[Official] Share and discuss your amateur poetry and stories.
I recently wanted to challenge myself, so I decided to try my hand at poetry. Since I’ve written a few poems, I’ve really wanted to get some kind of feedback, I’m not sure if they suck or not. So I’m creating this discussion in the hopes people will share their amateur poetry and stories. Only constructive criticisms guys, not everyone is literary genius. I’ll share a poem, if you want to here another of mine, just ask.
An Explorers Ode to Earth
As I see her from afar,
I obtain an inkling of who we are,
Here I sit in this frigid waste,
As if running from her warm embrace,
Just as children must move from home,
Here we travel deep into the unknown.
@imhotep, I find myself on a white carpet floor in what appears to be a hotel bedroom. Naked….Sore….Knuckles shredded to the bone and vomit smeared all over. As my body attempts to stand my knee caps quickly buckle and I collapse to the ground. There is no energy in my body, no recollection or any clues as to what had happened or for that matter even as to who I am myself. But what I do seem to know is survival. That primal instinct inside telling me to get the fuck out of here and fast. Deep breaths and accelerated throbbing pain in the forehead trying to remember any single puzzle piece detail that can paint this excuse of a canvased story . Thump thump. My vision clicks like an antique camera shutter each time my heart contracts and relaxes. From the apex to the aorta and superior vena cava I can feel it ; the one true feeling that this muscle that I have lived with for nearly twenty-one years is expanding and filling my entire body attempting to break out and sprint towards freedom. I manage to grab onto the bed sheets and help my body up onto the king sized bed. Crawling towards the headboard I lay my head down on a pillow and sink into its synthetic feathers. But it feels so cool and nourishing that I really truly want them to be real. Simple concepts improving man kind one comfort at a time. Luxury leading to greed and lack of self respect.
Reality quickly rails back together as I snap out of it and continue my mission. Who am I!? I’m panicking now, feeling a cold sweat and feverish chill invade my already not so comfortable comfort-like knot driven body. To the side of me on an African Blackwood table sits a broken mini grandfather clock reading 3:47 What the hell does this mean? Opening the drawer I find a bible, a quarter, a watch, wallet, knife, phone, and a leaflet. Sifting through the wallet now digging into each flap feeling around and throwing out everything on the bed. Finally some faces. An I.D. and what appears to be family photographs. The same face on that I.D. appearing in one of them….I quickly grab the mini grand and pull it towards my face praying for a reflection, exhaling and thanking god I have found one. This must be me. Which means this wallet must be mine. Which also means the accompanying contents must indeed belong to me as well. My teeth tremble as I decide that it would be wise to throw some garments on. Proceeding, I notch on my watch and throw the phone into my left pocket and wallet to the right. The knife making a click as it clips into the 5th pocket nearly disappearing out of sight. Exhale. Smile.
The motion seemed so second nature that I was at ease looking at the room as if it was all one funny dream. Trying to keep those little lightning bolts in the back bottom of my head where they belong to keep a clear conscious mind. I observe the room some more in awe but all too soon the bolts have found a passage way cracking the dam. Damn! Now maybe I can explain to you the feeling…. You know those 2nd generation ipods? Yeah you know right, when everything in the world wasn’t so light speed fast food ground breaking stratosphere flying ass kicking american made yes sir right away sir like. Well when you worked that puppy to its full load it would sometimes lag, followed by an ever so light vibration and ticking sound in your hand. For those of you that don’t know what lag means it is like a fat kid trying his absolute hardest to finish a race. He gets that ego boosting encouragement from the crowd and suddenly feels a second wind. This “lag” is caused by an error in the overdrive of the software and hardware components telling the master clock in the device to go fuck itself or vice versa. Still with me? Excellent! Now, that magnetic hardware disc inside your pod is spinning at buzzing skill saw razor blade fast speeds somewhere between 1.2 – 3.6 K rpm’s using its seek time power for the all seeing eye to find this Frodo blip of binary information thus transforming those 1’s and 0’s into sound waves.
Standing here in this hotel room, bending over to support my body and to stop the shaking, an overload of information and sensory perception fiending to break this puzzle down fast….a receipt perhaps or maybe an article of clothing left behind from the opposite sex. Going to the same spots multiple times in an attempt that something will magically appear and give me that golden lightbulb ding. Everything happened but. Closets now! Bathrobes and complementary this and thats give me nothing. These things are all supposed to be here. To the washroom now. A body oh so snug without a blanket laying on a tiger stripe rug, right next to the jacuzie tub. Dr. Sues would be so proud right now. But I don’t think even he had a big enough imagination for this. There is a broken bottle of red wine next to rajah’s rug, the liquids flooding over to the crevices on the polished tile blocks. Some splashes of it on the body next to the cuts on the face and chest of this piece of shit bloke. Holding my breath I creep over hoping that this guy had just used his party tools just a little to much. Going to his neck now with two fingers, exactly as they do in the flicks. No pulse. Not sorrow but adrenaline and anger rising I backhand him on the right side of his cheek with all my passion; two of my fantasies being fulfilled now….checkmark, thank you. No reaction so I say fuck it and leave him there. Nothing else to see in here so I walk out and slam the door shut.
I need a breather, so where are the windows? Ah, they must be here behind the drapes. But before I push the button to open them I remember that there is an unconscious, potentially deceased body resting in the washroom floor. Slam! The mahogany drapes begin to part as the cheap ass Chinese made component snaps off making its destiny to destruction complete. The windows are visible now. Wonderful. It is dark out so that must mean its late or very early in the morning. There are far too many lights so Its likely that I am not in Martinez anymore. But the windows are not windows. Tis a sliding glass door pull that fucker hard. The resistance lets me know that at least there is still some quality craftsmanship around. The breeze cools my face and sends pleasant goosebumps almost all over my body. Conveniently there is a bottle of Grey Goose on the wet-bar countertop and down goes the remainder of the fluids into my stomach being absorbed accordingly. So, I am high up. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I am legitimately up there forty flights or more according to my depth perception. Little cars and littler people occupying the streets. There is bart, I am here on Market and there are the peers past all the skyscrapers. I’m not too far from home.
Merry go round merry go round, so lovely is that sound. Children rotating in circles driven by motor and chain. In suspenseful laughter as they see their loved ones once more again. The bright lights and valiant horses take you far, far away. to never never land. Where the rivers flow and the puppies play.
I dabble in short story writing and poetry quite the bit, so Ill post some of my personal favorite. The following story is called jokingly Between a Rick and a Hard Place, but I feel a different name is needed. Hope you enjoy:
“The only time you’ll have anything interesting happen, is when you’re a fucking kid. I mean, think about it. Everything to a kid is a new and exciting adventure. Now, you sit in this goddamn cubicle every day, just waiting for five o’clock, so you can go home, and drink beer and watch the newest episode of whatever garbage sitcom might be on.” Mitch stood over my desk, droning on about how boring my life must be.
“What’s your point, Mitch?” I asked.
“Don’t you see? It’s time for all of us to go out and do something new. Change shit up for once, goddamn it.”
“Like what? I can’t just take the week off to go zip-lining.” I gave him a tired look.
“Why the hell not?” he continued “You’ve been working for Brooker for how long now?”
“Seven fucking years, and you can’t take a couple days off to join me on a once in a lifetime opportunity?”
“Have you ever even been to Brazil?” I asked skeptically, “Or, anywhere outside North America for that matter?”
He looked stunned that I would even ask him the question. “That’s the whole point, Rick. I need to get out of here man. I feel caved in.”
“So take a normal vacation, what even gave you this idea?”
“I don’t want to be normal. You don’t understand. Just think about it man. Livin’ like a kid again. Maybe you’ll find yourself down there, you never know.”
“Well, Mitch, the way I see it, I spent my whole childhood wishing I was grown up, why would I spend my grown up years wishing I could go back?”
He smirked. “You’d be lying if you said you don’t. Would you rather be carefree with parents who loved you unconditionally, or be stuck in a dead end job and no one in your life?”
“I’d rather not be arguing about this.”
“See! You agree with me!” he smiled, “You’re just too stubborn to admit it now, since your in this deep!”
“I didn’t say that, Mitch.”
“But you felt it!”
“You don’t know what I felt.”
“I don’t think you know how to feel.”
“Seriously, this is getting old – ”
“And so are you! You aren’t gonna be able to do shit like this forever, that’s why you don’t see seniors signing up for these trips.” He was enjoying this all too much.
“Just the same way you don’t see me signing up.”
He sighed. “Be that way, but at least come get a coffee with me, I’m feeling drowsy.”
I agreed. “I guess I could make time for a coffee.”
“I knew you were an adventurer at heart!” he said, laughing heartily.
We made our way to the cafeteria. The serving woman greeted us, “The usual Mr. Andrews?”
“Actually,” Mitch responded “Give me…hmmmm… a mocha latte, why the hell not? Change it up for once.”
“Very well, and for you?”
“The usual.” I replied. She rushed off to make the drinks.
“Guess it still isn’t catching, hey?” Mitch noted.
We drank together, in the sunlit cafeteria, and waited for our break to be over. When it was, I went back to my desk, and he went to his.
There is something a out you
That i cannot seem to grasp
Is like no other
Your kind heart
Makes me want to love
In its most beautiful form
I see the greatness in you
Do you see you?
Can you realize?
You are perfection
Into this dark night
We’ll make something wonderful
Something we’ve never felt before
What we never imagined
Can you see?
I can see
What do you see?
Tell me what you see
I’ll show you everything
But will you tell me?
What do you see?
Why does a butterfly fly towards the sun?
Why does the grass spread towards the fly?
In every eye, compacted with millions of lens
diamonds flash and crinkle like fireworks
like gems of soft pink and purple
they spread through the liquid of sky and fill the fragrant flowers with the softness of lightness and love
unable to contain, the blooms burst open and euphoria dances through the air
on the wings of butterflies and moths that spread through the night
as clear as day
as light as water
as free as the air which we breathe
euphoria dances and the hearts of everyone leap together
in joyous celebration of the fires that spring from the earth
and the moths stop feeding the light and stop to listen
and the squirrels stop cracking the nuts on the bark
all the universe stop to smile at the dance of the king and the queen
who live in all we own
in the vast unknown
Its finally happened, I am now a college graduate
Eyes on the prize, in my minds eyes a portrait of wealth and it seems accurate
And yet there’s a standstill
Uncertainty, unaware of whats ahead or of what my next move is
It would seem logical to get a marketing job and fuel the beast
I can pay my bills, maybe move out, perhaps turn it into a career
But still, I sit, hesitant in my haste
It seems as though I’ve been working for a goal, but now that its here I can’t grasp it
The credits and diploma, the sound of a career, is this what I imagined
I’ve always looked down on the sheeple people, but to be one of them is fuckin fantastic
I refuse to be another worker bee
Another nine to five, pay your taxes and go to sleep
I stop, take a minute and think
What is my definition of success and what does wealth really mean to me
Fuck cold calls and marketing plans and suits and ties
I wanna be able to sleep easy at night knowing I changed lives
I wanna make an impact, Influence youth, and spur spiritual evolution
I guess its true when they say follow your passion
At least now I know and I can make plans to put into action
My success is joy and bliss for those around me
I like to make people laugh and I want to learn to move acrobatically
So much for the 3 year of college degree handed to me
I’ll take it as a lesson in life for what the system had to offer me
But alas, I’m awakened from my bullshit of a slumber
And every step I take from here and in shall be a tribute to my jazz
Follow my passion, follow my bliss, I’ve graduated at last
Sometimes these rhymes are blindin’
Im findin it hard to believe when I begin windin up my sleeves that these scars
Indeed laid the seed to what eventually would make my heart bleed.
I am in need of some deed that will fill my psyche with redemption .
I have swam in the subjection of my rejection and in lies and deceptions of ego conceptions .
I’ve had enough swimming in the rough I’ve released the shackles and cuffs
And called all it’s bluffs .
Ive made the choice to voice the truth of our existence .
Needing no assistance I’ve witnessed our eminent demise written in the skies if we don’t stop these lies.
We need a shift in our mind and an Attempt to find that which would bind us all together.
We need to change the weather for this blizzard is never going to stop on its own.
We must reclaim the thrown cast out hidden bones
Decipher the unknown so we can be flown
To the greatest of hights beyond starlights on beautiful nights .
Skating through the half pipes of our potential is essential
If we are to persist
Through this we will kiss the lips of our creator whose behavior is hard to miss .
I hope this for each and all of us as we take part in the cusp of great change .
May we rearrange our lives parting the skies so that the universe’s eyes can shine down on our minds .
May we float past fear taking care of those we are near for many will be afraid to carry their own spear .
This is a homage to all the Buddhas of the Digital Age.
He presides under a tree. You could say that the tree is his throne. A throne beckoned to a pauper. A pauper who slaves to the people. The people revolt themselves to this prince. They pray for him, they cry for him and yearn for his grace and presence. The conflict arises when the truth is turbulent. Deterrent of time, space, pressure and logic. Yes, the logical indifference of similar and same. It is the tree that perseveres to be a tree. Its lushful bounty of vegetation and shade surrounds the enveloping light with cool invitation.Roots embark on their worldly quests ,burrowing into the earth awaiting no time nor tide. Because it lives thus it must die.
I know what it is! Anger. Masked with fear, collected through all of these years, not knowing why ..knowing why.
Deep inside a big question mark stand still, breaking years into doubles, the experience particle, particle and than dust, forgotten in the past. Words that gather, pile of sentences, overused, daily routine and overall futile!
Anger. From thoughts that are embedded in our head from the society that doesnt want to know about unique, thoughts that slain like little needles of a body drawing and leave stains forever. Imposed thoughts, superficial far from ductile and overall futile!
Morals with a criterion fixed from majority for majority, a rule that i dont want to obey. Pseudo Freedom, a bird with tired, broken wings, excessive caution, excessive attention, overrated things, false, futile!
Anger. From the unknown, from the fear it gives, from the ignorance that doesnt awakens curiosity to know more for the sake of knowledge, from questions without answers, from the infinite emptiness at the end of the day, deep inside, extended void preparing the place for the next futility of life.
No battle between noise
And silence has been won.
And so it is that
Our days have come,
As if each one the same.
Enchanting roses painted
On a haggard wall.
Then the thorn and bramble
Surrounds them all,
As if each one to blame.
There will be no solace
In the briars.
Where brashness burns
An obnoxious fire.
Is each one the same?
And what would they say,
If young J. Alfred, or old,
Stood in front of them?
He too would be cast aside?
A rag prop in the grand comedy?
He too would see it each way?
He too would observe?
What love or scorn or pity
Would draw us to the bramble?
We are of the walls, not
The ceiling, floors or scramble.
And perhaps it is not the same?
And as it bellows we shall shrink.
And as it screams we shall think.
Chasing happiness as if it was as real as you and me
An endless pursuit for satisfaction, in the end maybe we’ll see
That what we find may not be as great as the journey there
Constant adventures to postpone the questions why
We haven’t explored the grey areas in our hearts
Maybe after we find ourselves we’ll start
To see the writing on the wall
Sit beside me and make me smile without a word
Beauty defined, in front of my eyes
An image replayed in a memory, a scene for a dream
Perhaps just wishful thinking or a realistic fantasy
Slip back into this painful ride called life
Find something only wished for, a feeling never truly felt before
Only the illusion of emotions gave you the impression it was real
Open your eyes and turn your head to discover something in between the fog and the steam
Snap out of the fantasy to see beyond the haze of the dream
The delusion and the memory
Whether it’s real or not may not make a difference at all
The moments spent in beloved company are enough to fall
Into happiness if even for only a short while
And we will still be lovers in disguise
Two souls entwined to do nothing but remain
In my fantasy where life is mine to control
Chasing happiness as if it was as real as you and me
An endless pursuit for satisfaction, in the end maybe we’ll see
That what we find may not be as great as the journey there
The following poem I slapped together for my mother for mothers day. As it reads our relationship is quite rocky, I’m on to her drinking and acknowledge her destructive personality. Although despite the issues, she has been there from the start, and I’ll just have to suck it up =P
(I think it’s a little better if read slowly while taking the appropriate pauses >.<)
Every time I see my mom, I’m consumed with grief,
The only thing I wish, is for this encounter to stay brief.
It’s an argument or a fight, or maybe the whole lot,
We do it so often, I could feel my blood clot.
But through the hurt and misery, I think of the good times we’ve had.
So many memories we’ve shared, things I couldn’t have with dad.
The early days in little league, where smiles were the norm,
When mom was proud to say, “That’s my son, my firstborn.”
Memories were made, all the way through junior high,
Where girlfriends would come and go, but mom was there for the ride.
Then came high school, where we began to split,
Mom got a divorce, so I found my own cliques.
Those four years were great, but came to a rapid end,
Mother thought her guidance was right, but she was lost to her boyfriend.
So college and life I began, and some nights I really missed home…
Our conversations started great, but our fights were even worse on the phone.
Although we always bickered, and smiles were lost in fights,
We have each other, something to cherish through the nights.
I’m thankful for my mother, on this very special day,
For the good and bad times, it was an adventure either way.
So to her I show my love, because she means so much,
She’ll probably disagree, but our relationship is such.
indoctrinate it, side-step in time-it ,expand your mind it’s,
such a fine fit, in our world of time slit’s. we must find our mind it’s~
subconscious induction. internal function. weapons of mass mind reconstruction~
succession, recession, overly obsessing.
confession of our repression, digression, guessing
progression in condescending, conscious possession. professin ,love, for educated guessing, collection, to possess the ability of expression.
distress in this time of congression, acquiescing, we must confess this, or get a death wish, on these streets of suppression, coalescing, source of our blessing’s, we must reassess this or be oppressed..shit..
rise above, never quit~ indoctrinate it.
side-step in time-it,expand your mind it’s,
such a fine fit, poetic rhyme rift’s, in our world of time slit’s.
our mind we must find it.
purple kush a-blazing, mindstate raising
think~ clearly, dank got me leer’ing
i sear, thee,
gleam is key, cloak my fiend,
retreat to dream.
sub-conscious induction. internal function. weapons of mass mind reconstruction.
succession, recession, overly obsessing.
confession of our depression, digression, guessing
,in condescending. conscious possession professing .love.
educated guessing, collection, possess the ability of expression.
dis-tress in this time of con-gress. acquiesce, we,
must confess, or face time in-contempt. within consciousness suppressant,
coalescence is the source of our blessing’s,
re-assess this or be oppressed, kin.
infiltrate this emirate,defibrillate our conscious state
finesse this celeste, quest for the best in this test
or get a vest. don’t get your chest compressed
by the confessed depressed in excess for tenths.
universal intentions, my mind isn’t fenced in,
karma stacking, negative lacking, brilliance inhabiting
omniscient casting on this land of asking.
see through fraudulent backing, captain.
gasping for traction, mystical caption, no infraction.
stay in tact sure, subliminal rapture, caricature.
counter-culture vulture, galaxy voyeur.
Until time tells time and I tell you,
too much will happen that can’t be true.
For this is real as nothing is something,
something is everything, and
everything is nothing.
Too much, too much, two finger touch
to take my pulse is to take away…
farther and farther until you come back to me
and circles close and matter blends;
then what matters will finally mend.
So I’m working on a novel and I already got 10 chapters so I’m pretty sure those would be a bit too long to post here. I do however want to share the plot with you:
It’s about a young woman (Kayla) who’s life is rescued by an Angel (Max) when she falls off a building one night. The next day she wakes up in her own bed and has trouble remembering what happened the night before, but when here brother assures her that he would most definitely remember her falling off a building and being caught by a stranger, she decides to write it off to the influence of too much alcohol until Max shows up at her door and demands to take her with him.
It is then revealed that he is an angel and that by rescuing her he has broken one of the most important rules of heaven: Never to interfere with fate unless you’re told to do so by one o your superiors. Since Max decides he doesn’t want to face a trial and put himself at risk of fall and becoming a demon he takes Kayla (since he’s not sure what would happen to her if he left her) and they begin their journey.
As the story progresses they start to question if maybe someone was behind Kayla’a “accident” and when they are attacked by a group of demons it soon becomes clear that there are bigger forces at work, that exceed even their imagination.
The story is in parts about their relationship with each other, about how they fall in love, but it is even more about the process they go through as especially Max realizes that the world is not black and white. There are demons who want nothing but to do the right things, and angels with an agenda of their own. Over the years heaven has become corrupt and they can trust no one.
Another very important part are the characters, which all have a story of their own: Max is haunted by his human past, while Kayla finds herself caught up in things bigger than herself, a demon who wants to start a revolution and a long lost sister with great power that she needs to learn to use for good.
I really don’t want to reveal too much of what happens, but I hope this gives you a good impression. Feel free to tell me what you think, I appreciate any feedback.
(Btw, my protagonists are fairly young (in their early twenties) but it was really important to me that this wouldn’t be another twilight sort of book. Romance does have its place in it, but it’s about a lot more than that)
Is it considered a drought, if I’m thirsty for you?
Cascading angel who freely falls soft to rocks
Being that you are the only possible remedy for my parched lips…
Mother of all waters,
I keep praying for you, safety through the devils mountain.
purest and clairsentiant like crystals one scrys into for answers.
playing and bending light several which ways to entertain me.
Famine and debris am I,
to savor your dew would bring me rapture
Cascading goddess who falls with little to no fear
Not even a stream was I,
but I drew in your mist, hoarding it till I became prosperous
Oasis that you are,
much like a water sage to the mirage of my soul
You erode me and shape me like mud and clay.
you’re limitless as a moist well, peaking on infinity.
oh, my tongue swells for your never ending glory.
Cast out of Heaven, you are all for me.
(this is a poem i wrote about numerous subjects) Take what you will from it. It was a delight for you to read it!
I had to write a poem about myself for English, so I’ll share that :) (Sorry it’s long…)
A lover of music;
I am the dancer, who bends his soul to the sound,
The singer who speaks the truth of his heart,
The future DJ,
A masterful music magician…
Some might say I’m many wonderful things.
They call me amusing, like a circus clown
Or say I’m kind, a valuable trait
They say I’m friendly, but I’m not without doubt
I’m good, yet have an evil balance
I’m selfless, yet also selfish
Fun, but sometimes annoying
I can be lighthearted, or have dark humor
I can be smart, but I’m young and naive
Or be kind, but sometimes a jerk
For every good there is a bad,
A Yin and Yang
But predominantly the Good,
I’m proud of who I am
So WHO am I?
What do I stand for?
I’m a guy who will go
To see people be happy
I am not one to tolerate intolerance,
For hatred is the enemy of all good men
I am a kid with the power to go anywhere in life
I’m someone who can’t stay down, with a frown, for long
And that’s my foundation, the pyramid of ME
I smile innocently
And dance uncontrollably!
I am all these things and can be more,
But I’m not one thing,
Cannot be one thing,
And NEVER WILL be one thing…
I Am Not You…
I AM ME
All the garden gates are locked
This land is not communal
The ground is dirty, wet, and soft
I’ll never rest my feet
And so I hush still by the fence
Afraid of a tribunal
The freedom rang and then commenced
They shoed me to the street
The birds are chirping only ‘cause
They have wings to escape them
Beware a warm and cheerful buzz
They only want to eat you
Swing sweet low and never run
They know all of your secrets
Beware a warm and cheerful buzz
They think they should reveal you
Ok, i see that people here really know what there doing here, and im starting to be intimidated, but i got one that might make some cry, laugh, gasp, or just something like that and if you see a vulgarity… sorry… ok… here goes…
Sometimes life shows me things,
Things that make men cry.
But some of these, let me just say,
They made me want to die.
Like when parents abuse there kids,
Treating them like shit
Then they get to school
And get even more of it
Or when someone is all alone
And no one cares
All they really want
Is someone to be there…
But still they hold on
Thinking the worst pasted by
They don’t just give up
They just don’t cry
Cause whats the point in tears
When no ones around to see
They just get up off there feet
And push, like Moses with the sea…
Well, hope that did not suck so bad…
@juggalo, Don’t be so hard on yourself, I enjoyed the substance of your writing. It may be simple, no flashy writing, but would mean something to a lot of people in the world. People that can identify with it.
Here’s my twin poem, thoughts about the creative and destructive aspects of nature.
At dawn fire filled the sky,
and cast out radiant warmth.
Bathed in the light of the Eye,
A sprouting seedling took form.
As it stretched its arms higher and higher,
leaves bloomed and burned in the morning-sky fire,
gold-crested flowers drank life from the moisture
that filled the air as it rose from the mire.
There’s life in this being, just as in other trees;
branches dance and sway in time with the breeze,
Rain drops are drunk by the roots and the leaves,
and a rustling speaks words of leisure and ease.
An honor to be held in the presence of beauty,
more than would be with a DaVinci before me.
This awesome portrait, so vast yet so welcoming,
washes away as the sun’s reign is ending.
With dusk the embers fade,
gone out in a blaze of glory,
and shadows invade
the canvas before me.
The warmth remains and always will linger,
like the life in the trees, the life in the nature.
Alone among demons, stumbling through brush,
the noblest of beasts in a fearful rush.
A doe dancing lightly across puddles of mud
that grasp at its heels, thirsty for blood.
Thunder claps its warning loud and fast
‘Seek shelter or face the elements’ wrath.’
Explosions in the sky shine forth a light,
That blinds the doe, blankets it with fright.
The darkness is full now, holds all that exists,
And creeps ever inward seeking what’s left.
The wind screams and laughs and never does let,
Like the incessant rain that leaves the earth drenched.
The weakened dirt breaks free from the roots
of the tree on the hill that always bore fruit.
The sliding mass swept clean a path,
scrubbed out all beauty in a devastating bath.
A lull falls fast in the eye of the storm,
as the doe emerges and begins to mourn.
A barren landscape, dead, the rest dying,
The air, stale and wet, ceases its sighing.