Poems About Storms by Top Critiquers

Coy he isn’t

He’s confident inside
His cloudscape
Where black and white
Collide into lightning

Lighting the landscape
Of his poetic mind along
With an occasional cigarette
Answering the call

Of being struck
On his back porch
In only a towel that’s
Still damp from his shower

Where lines of smoke
Are written in sync with
The pulse flashing inside
His electric blue eyes

When he’s focused
In rainwater soaked hair
Embracing the storm
Where grey turns to chrome
...

the clouds
were busy
shape
shifting,
forgetting
how to fly,
their sense
of direction
was over,
their
languages
disappeared,
they opened
their mouths
and only
rain formed,
taking time
to fall
to
the ground,
even with
no intentions,
they weighted
the earth
with their
lost voices.

Mountain Storm

Gentlemen oaks usher mountaineers
On Appalachian fern gold
Whose fronds are lush with dreams
That gather in the mossy cusp of nature’s beautician
Who makes a patchwork quilt of green
On rocky heads of ancient totems
We emerge onto a bald God’s summit
Below clouds grow restless
As troops with no war
Who throw electric javelins
While bloodletting water
Bled from the earth
Whose aerial arteries
Flow in mist and rain
My sight blurs in flood on glasses
That obscures all but light
“Oh my God!”...

Since there was nothing
else for us to do while
our cabin was inside the
storm, both Karen and
I made ourselves strip
down and look at each
other play with our
attached goodies.