Sad:
A dozen
And more moons
Storm stranded
By jealous tides
“Do you know
Who I was?
Where I have been?
That I could summon,
So casual-easy, the
Thunders and mischiefs
You most desire?”
Tag Archives: thunder
Carried Away
High words, borders
And thunder’s claws
Could not keep me
From sleep last night.
And, this morning, I have skipped
Through enthusiasm’s classes
To reach this river-bank coffee pause.
Fur Kurt
Balanced between Beethoven and Thunder,
We are all Destiny’s children,
Walking – whether we know it or not –
With our Fates and our phantoms.
This day our honest money is unacceptable,
We cannot climb the tower.
We cool our jets instead;
No wind, no forward speed:
The patient river of friendship
Smoothes our broken edges.
The new-old voices of rock
Loud again in
The still air.
Window in a Storm
Like the drowning ghosts of
Altar candle flames, buds of rain
Seek, so desperate hard, to defy
Gravity,
Destiny.
Unseen cheeks and faces
Pressed against unforgiving,
Merciless pane;
Imagined mouths voicing
Silent screams as
Slip becomes recognition
Of ending:
The thunder that can never be heard,
The deeps that will not be denied
Are claiming their once-bright souls.
Eve …
Thor,
Dark witch of thunder,
Bleeds for our distraction;
Sometime champion
Far away from the Rainbow Bridge
And ill at ease
In the sparkling peace
That violence brings,
Desperate to hear again
Those candle-tales of a
Quiet star above a stable.
A safe and merry Christmas to one and all
By the Harvesters.
Of course, it’s got to be
Better not to dwell on it;
But we’re all going
To lose it one day.
He shouldn’t know it,
This head-down young charger,
Won’t know it until it ambushes him,
But his day is today.
Muster
Time …
Thunder quietly stirs in
The dark music distances
At the end of the silver day tracks:
The one armed smith and
The eight-legged stormbringer.
A different crew walks the morning desert
Between directions, must be
Getting closer to the time
To visit the city I fear,
To use the words we never said.
No Challenge.
So far away,
Yet close enough,
Those northern mountains
Of the young-spring moon
Hide us well –
My wolf brother and I .
Sixteen horses?
So few?
Five times that
Would be no challenge.
Hear our voices,
Between the
Wind and thunder,
In the bear-claw nighthours.
I was here:
Know my name
Daughter Mine.
Maybe –
She realised it so suddenly,
It actually caused physical pain –
She’d spent too damned-long
With her sleepless head
Inside a dark box of quiet,
Chocolate-bitter thunder
That echoed and repeated,
Stitching restless days together.
beeseeker 