he is the sound
of a summer storm,
thundering and heavy and thick,
always a warning sign
because god knows,
he's too close for comfort
he is the sound of
a summer storm,
and you are his lightning,
just two steps behind,
coloring his skies
in so many shades of white ---
and he tells you,
love,
we are traveling
through unease and distress
and we are on the edge of a hurricane,
we are on the edge of
losing ourselves in war and love and
darkness and rain and maybe,
baby,
we can make it
baby,
soon, we will know the eye --
and as you are lifted into the humid raging winds
you can do nothing
but hold onto his hand
and believe --
Author notes
mostly
"and we are vagabonds
we travel without seatbelts on
we live this close to death"
with a little bit of love and trust
A contest entry
- here I dreamt I was an architect. by etoile.
2825 points, ended August 20, 13 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
please?
Comments
-
I love this. it's truly brilliant. I thought that the second time you said 'baby' it didn't fit as well. just my opinion.
I love the imagery / metaphor in this and your take on the prompt is just lovely.
brilliant poem.
goodluck and thanks for entering
-
this was gorgeous darling...
"and he tells you,
love,
we are traveling
through unease and distress
and we are on the edge of a hurricane,
we are on the edge of
losing ourselves in war and love and
darkness and rain and maybe,
baby,
we can make it"
-
This song I love. This poem is about twenty times better. I love this. I will read it often I think.
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