deepundergroundpoetry.com

Reaping the Whirlwind

CYCLE IV: AIR      
 
With flaming arc on ozone choking breathe,      
The torren’ skies of lifely hurricanes’      
Erode of Earth and seas’ firm underneath.      
So form’ed structures’ fall toss boats insane.      
As drowning shards would scuttle all mind’s hope      
On desert island strand in madness owned,      
Beyond the guardsman’s call and rescue's rope.      
With only silent voice, wind’s howl for home.      
Yet on the gale, from desolation’s wall,      
Came versely words that calmed my broken mind.      
A tiger’s cry drove past depression’s squall,      
In senryu’s Zen laughter, self unwinds.      
Without the mind-storm’s wreak I’d never found      
Her poet’s voice, my island’s sacred ground.      
     
April 28 - NaPoWriMo 2017      
     
also entered in the "There Will be Storms" competition
Written by Hepcat61 (geoff cat)
Published
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