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Weekly Poetry Stuffage > Week 273 (August 10-17). Poems. Topic: Before the Storm Hits.

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message 1: by Joci (last edited Aug 10, 2015 02:41PM) (new)

Joci (kdemiweall) | 434 comments Gods' storm

At Neptune’s feast
Like two young lost souls, we drank
From the goblet of that ever perpetual cosmic love
That continuously fills our desires
And makes us run along the forest

And as the trees swayed to the commands of Venilia
We rushed down to our lair

A moment takes our breath away
And in that same moment, Salacia whispers her wishes
And then in comes, that storm
As waves crashing violently along the shore

To loses us...

In a time where calendars flow
As endless days - Like instants,
Succeeding one another, and

Silently commanding
The I meeting you

In a space called


J.L. 14/06/2015

message 2: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Title : Calm...
Poet : Edward Davies

Barely blowing is the wind
Gentle are the autumn breezes
Hints of raindrops yet to come
Coax an end of summer sneezes

The sounds that whistle through the reeds
The nights grow warm as thunder rolls
A circle envelops the moon
A sign to chill our very souls

We wait with baited breath and watch
As birds migrate and insects swarm
The air grows still as it suggests
The calm before the coming storm

message 3: by Neal (new)

Neal Syrette | 80 comments Perseids Storm

Oh great celestial Perseus...
Hero of the skillful Gustave Doré,
Into the oils you valiantly foray.
Of Princess and the Dragon flight;
Rage, rage among the night.
Race with streaks of ice and fire,
Adorn the sky with lights so dire.
Like a beacon to the sailor's call,
And an arrow to the Dragon's fall.
Andromeda asleep, awake, always worthy.
Calmly awaiting your meteors' journey...

message 4: by Angel (new)

Angel Muse

This mistress she won’t leave me alone
I’ve been blown away by her for so long
I can’t recognize who I am because of her ripple effect on me
It’s like an out of body experience
She leaves me writhing with passion
Sometimes with a mock obsession
One lesson after another she penetrates through me
I bleed when she cuts me
I laugh when she makes me cry
Although, I never die completely
She tortures me but, does it so sweetly
I don’t realize a part of me has taken its last breath
Just when I think I have nothing left

She lifts my head up and fills it to the top until it runs over
I feel too much when she’s around
I hide under the covers
It’s like a high
I just can’t come down
Somehow she’s stuck in my blood
Even when she makes me feel nothing it’s still like a flood
She confuses me, infuses me, imbues me with her anger, her lust, her trust
I burst into flames

Too many games she plays with my thoughts
Until I’m overwrought
Then suddenly she leaves me without a word
Abandoning me with my empty disposition
I’m often left wondering why she’d leave me in this compromising position
Sometimes she’ll return in bits and pieces
Other times she haunts me in short releases
Drives me insane
I’m left with the pain, the disdain
But, I always want her back again.

message 5: by Alex (new)

Alex Morritt (alexmorritt) | 287 comments 'A SCAPE' by Alex Morritt

A brush stirs
Flexing its long thin neck
Bristles stroke the air in readiness
Indeterminate outlines of composition

Inky blue dots dart across the canvas
Marks of punctuation boldly announcing
A speedy flotilla of dinghies

Billowing sails rippling red
Respond to invisible breezes
Carving tracks of phosphorescence
Through crested white horses
Flecked with hints of turquoise

Shards of vibrant yellow
Beam happily from above
A dapple gold sea shimmers

Filigree shadows dance
Beneath dense foliage emerald green
Tinged with deep orange
Ripened fruit weighing heavy on branches

Smudges of ochre and muddy brown
Denoting rocky outcrops
Peek out from a verdant canopy

A gaggle of gangly seabirds
Blotches black as a crow
Amid neutral spaces white as snow
Duck and dive into azure waters
Mottled with patches of purple
Rebounding skyward
Keen flashes of silver between their beaks

Anonymous shades of grey
Attempt to subvert clear blue skies
Driven away hastily
To dump hazy pessimism elsewhere
A blot on another landscape
Out of frame
A different easel

Copyright 2015 Alex Morritt

message 6: by Julie (new)

Julie Grenness | 137 comments From Julie:


Abusive men and the chicks who loved them.
Belong in a 'Once were young' museum,
As the song says, "How do they cool their lips?"
Then it's like living through the blitz,
Waiting before the storm hits,
Women need to be detoxed,
More to life than washing men's socks!
Stop blaming the little women victims,
DV is not in their job description,
"Boots were made for walking!"
Chicks, do not grow up to be victims!
Abusive men and the chicks who loved them
Now in "once were young' museum.

message 7: by Arun (last edited Aug 14, 2015 08:48AM) (new)

Arun Iyer (aruniyer) | 369 comments Before the storm hits

The quiet of the night gathers
in the dark,
the thoughts of life, past and present;
forming a caravan, organized and
yet impetuous,
along a circular path, worn out and
yet sumptuous.

The path resides,
between a cliff, offering
quick salvation,
and a mountain, with
no information,
about remuneration
or compensation.

I look at the abyss down at the cliff's end,
so alluring, charismatic. Can an answer ever
be so simple? And that was the will I penned,
portend, tightened, upend and then descend.

And I transcend,
before the storm hits.

message 8: by Guy (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11106 comments A Good Cleaning is All That is Required
       by Guy Duperreault (Feedback and comments welcomed)

I can smell it, the updraft or down draft
or whatever it is going to be
before it gets to me sitting in my cramped room
with earphones,
the big noise-reducing ones that keep me safe
and sound from it.
That it which moils outside my little windows,
barricaded windows,
buzzing with the pandemonium of people and pollution
filling it up everywhere
with everything that misconstructs and misconstrues being alive
plaintively calling me to it.
I turn up the music and redouble my concentration,
gulp down the truth
of the cleansing power of Holy water sent from the brutal God
washing His truth out of us all.

message 9: by Raven (new)

Raven A Storm of Expectations

Feet shuffle down the hallway
a bit too fast
we prepared for the worst storm
we ran too fast
the echoes on the forgotten doors
we let the rats come in
abandoned houses and window panes
we let the rain come in
the storm we imagined never came
but it changed us all the same
or did we change before the storm?

message 10: by Guy (last edited Aug 18, 2015 11:07PM) (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11106 comments Avast, yea pirates, it’s time to go and vote!


message 11: by Guy (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11106 comments Hello fellow poets!
For a rare change I was all geared up, tonight, with some time to comment, but no one okayed commentary. So, I will say that I enjoyed everyone’s entries this week. And, as always, I find it delightful and enriching to see how differently everyone was inspired by the prompt.

I will comment on Joci’s because I know from our previous conversations she appreciates commentary and English language help. So…

Gods’ Storm by Joci
Joci, this is beautiful! I loved it.

One small English language correction (although it may be just a typo).

To loses us …
needs to be singular because it is in the infinitive form. That is, if your meaning is to be lost. However, if you are saying that the waves set them free, metaphorically dead, then you need another ‘o’ for ‘To loose us … ‘. Either way, the tension between these two different meanings on a word that sounds almost the same creates a great tension and ambivalence.

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Alex Morritt (other topics)