Chasing the Storm

A cloak made of cumulonimbus
Comprised of total darkness
Spreads its grasp across the sky
Blanketing out any appearance of light
Until electricity reveals itself
Flashing and dancing with gangling fingers
Reaching for a hasty contact
Charring most of what it touches
Even if only for a moment
The blink of mortal eyes
Still, the atmosphere cries
Sheds its tears upon those down below
Denied because of its lethal tangency
Grief becomes rage rather swiftly
Single drops merge into a flood
Gusts of breath ripping apart what once was
Whirlwinds decimating all in its path
Rumbling anguish shaking bones
Fulminations searching for new victims
The atmosphere no longer distinguishing
Potential friend from foe
Unable to decipher within its emotion
Tumbling from one destination to the next
With ever-growing potency
Dragging itself from corner to corner
Until the land has ended
And it drowns itself
In a body larger than its own
Content at last
For the ocean cannot be burned
Even provides companions for the gales
Rises to greet the tempest
The embrace of forces that cannot be tamed

Advertisements

Drip, Drip, Drip

Drip
Drip
Drip
Water falling from up above
Keeping the time with seconds
Drip
Drip
Drip
A sound I typically love
Except this time I’m hesitant

The rain is constantly reminding me
Of the previous days when I was free
When I could stand with arms wide
Taking everything in patient stride
Of when I tilted my face high
Feeling drops with a contented sigh
Allowing the cold, purifying rain
To wash my cares far away
As it fills me with blissful peace
Those previous days when I was free

All I hear now is
Drip
Drip
Drip
Water falling from up above
Keeping time with dreadful seconds
Drip
Drip
Drip
A sound I’ve come to loathe
Torturing me with ill constants

Volcanic Islands

9b55bba8a9b8a67e24e4a1018a8df
Fire meets water
In a spectacular way
Adding to an isle
Most every day
Hot red and cool blue
Collide in a burst of steam
Creating a vicious landscape
Often only seen in dreams
An island appearing dull
Cloaked in garb gray
Until it begins glistening
Drowning in salty spray
Giving the concrete lava
A particular type of gleam
Heightened in the peak
Of the sun’s beating beams

* Author’s Note: This Poetry Thursday was inspired by none other than the nature documentaries on Netflix from the BBC. If I don’t have music on in the background while I’m writing, I’m watching (and re-watching) documentaries. Even as a child, I was fascinated by documentaries. A dream of mine is to travel the world, photographing plants, animals, weather, and everything in between. I’ve always loved nature, and I have a feeling I always will.

I Am the Storm

She stood with the quiet defiance of a self-assured queen. While the tempest around her raged on. The wind howled with a ferocity not seen in decades. Rain battered everything like an array of rapidly fired bullets. Still, she remained firm. Slowly stepping forward. One bare foot placed in front of the other.

All she had to do was make it across the natural stone bridge. Everyone deemed it impossible, that she would never make it to safety. But she would show them that she was the master of impossible. Her slender arms rose on either side of her.

Lightning struck the turbulent sea below her, sending salty spray to mix with the rain. The wind whipped her ebony hair about her face. Unfurled her crimson gown across the stone. Her pale skin contrasting the ash-colored skies. Still, she pursued onward.

Her striking eyes trained on the villagers that waited on solid ground. She was soaked to the bone, but she never felt the cold. Thunder rumbled the earth. Piece of rock plummeted into the crashing waves. More lightning streaked through the clouds. Yet, she crossed the natural stone bridge without hesitation. Startling the villagers as she strode by them. One called out, desperately trying to hang on for dear life, “How can you withstand this storm?”

She looked over her shoulder. A confident smile on her lips before she faded into the squall. “Darling, I am the storm.”

 

 

 

The Fall

The water thundered over the side of the cliff, tumbling down below. The mist roiled skyward. But such was the ways of waterfalls. A peaceful yet violent force of nature.

She stood atop the falls, surveying the land below. It had taken her three hours to climb to the precipice, and it had been worth every second. The serene atmosphere gave her plenty of time to reflect. And nothing in her mind had changed.

Recently, it had occurred to her what life really meant. How futile human existence was. Their purpose was to make the world a better place. And how miserable they failed. That’s why their lives were less than a hundred years. Why would they live longer lives? They were only selfish beings who honestly deserved less.

It was why she climbed to the falls. Her life had been nothing but a selfish disaster. A selfish disappointment. She would make the world a better place by returning her body to fertilize the earth. It had been something that filled her with fear, but no more. It was something she came to terms with. Something she wanted.

Her eyes closed as the waterfall breeze mingled the spray with hair. It was time. Holding out her arms, she leaned forward. Felt the rush of the wind against her face. Tingling every nerve.

Ten.

She had no regrets.

Nine.

No fear.

Eight.

No more reason to live.

Seven.

This was her wish.

Six.

Her peace.

Five.

Her freedom.

Four.

She smiled.

Three.

No one would ever see her again.

Two.

Her body hit the water.

One….