thunderstorm poems

Hi everyone! First of all, I hope this post finds you well on this holiday weekend. Secondly, you guys, THANK YOU. Thank you so much for reading this blog. Your views, comments, and shares mean so much to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This is a small collection of poems about thunderstorms. I hope you enjoy them.

With so much gratitude,

Georgie

thunderstorn in telluride

i could smell it coming.

it was summertime and I was alone.

those mountains hold sweetness and scent

much differently than the sierra.

they hold the smell of wildflower and mud like a mother

would hold a child,

an embrace.

the sierra doesn’t do that.

her arms are open and wide, fingers

splayed like the sun rays you drew with crayon

in the corner of the paper you were given

by your babysitter

saying, go,

you must go,

there is too much to see for you to stay here in my arms,

too much love and too much pain,

and once you find all the ways in which your heart

can break

nothing will

ever feel so yours.

thunderstorm at clark mountain

we could smell it coming.

it inked the clouds, dark and heavy

against

a metallic sky.

it turned the landscape silver,

stilled the air and suspended our breath

as we waited

for the inevitable.

the whole thing made me itch.

the sky churned

and twisted

and telescoped

just like his belly,

because

he could smell it coming,

and the tightness of his throat told him

that it was inevitable.

thunderstorm in tuolumne

she could smell it coming.

she said, we should get out of here

but i wanted to stay.

just a little further,

so we walked into the meadow between the Echoes

and

Cathedral Peak.

she said, okay let’s turn back now

but i needed something from the high country

and I didn’t care

if the clouds shattered

on my shoulders.

thunderstorm at lime kiln canyon

we could smell it coming.

and my thighs were stained with heavy drops already.

i tied into the rope anyway,

the air was electric, I had to.

the subtle bumps in the limestone were wet

and slick but

thunder cracked above my head,

and as I looked up a drop of rain fell into my eye

like Visine

and my vision got clear, I could see colors

that weren’t there before, indigo,

it was all indigo,

and I moved without thinking,

moved with the same force that beats my heart and

grows my hair, I swear

something else

was lifting me up the soaked face

I was a puppet

and finally free.

thunderstorm in savannah

the kittens could smell it coming.

i think.

huddled under my bed, four glowing eyes

so still as round after round

of thunder and bright lightening shook the frame

of our old house.

they were so young,

and i wanted so badly to tell

them that they were going to be okay

but there was no way,

i was too human

so on the floor is where i stayed,

belly down

i fell asleep

as the gutters filled with water

and wind threw rain against the window–

i was dreaming, and

woke with two kittens pressed

and breathing

contoured to the curve

of my side.

thunderstorm in appalachia  

i could smell it coming.

i had been in a bad mood for a few years and

the sky was sick of it.

give it up girl,

she said.

quit yer fussin’ already,

she said.

your fear bores me to tears,

she said.

she rained on my forehead and

i knew it was time.

my mask ran down my cheeks, dripped off my chin

and splattered into my open palms

and for the first time

maybe ever

i let it run through my fingers

and as it seeped into the red mud

she said,

oh thank God.

thunderstorm in wyoming 

we could smell it coming.

god, could we smell it coming.

the sky had been holding on for days, threatening

to pour out its insides but it was patient.

it was when the clouds were bursting at their seams that

i met him for the first time.

i didn’t know him, and then i did.

after just one word

a strand of lightening spindled between my chest

and his

so strong that it scared me

so magnetic that i had no choice

and i enjoyed the pull.

the rain flooded the grassy hillside into a vast ocean,

and we both ducked under the surface,

we were swimming,

breathing underwater as we marveled in

the way the other moved.

Advertisements

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Cynthia Abel
    May 25, 2015 @ 17:14:00

    I want it to rain after reading these-but feel like I was there…such good writing ! love you

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: