Posts Tagged ‘ Weather ’

What Do We Do? – Poem

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually laugh. Usually play.
I fight against it. Fight for control.
The phone drops, the control clatters to the floor with it
A storm begins and flood defences fail
Sandbags wash away, barriers collapse
The tide comes in, the rain pelts down
Flash of light. One. Two. Growl low within me
As the darkness dawns, floods flow higher.

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually play. Usually laugh.
The storm sets in on my heart and I sink lower
Rain is rising, carpet comforts me, prevents my heart drowning
And then his arms, I grab on for my life
He’s my swimming aid, my rubber ring wrapped ‘round
The thoughts set in as selfish sobs escape
I think of them, yet I fear for me
I mumble and stumble, he cooks and cares
What will I do without you?

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually talk. Always laugh.
Mind is vacant, needed that way
Need to be empty: No thoughts, no feelings, no tears
I walk the streets of youth, eyes filling, near spilling
With each step, I pound the concrete hard
My memories of me. Of us. Of her. Banished.
Repeat the words, they’re all that exist:
What do we do? Usually drink. Usually dance, usually… Bubble.
Keep on and on, nearly there now.
What do we do?
Block everything else, nothing exists.
Only the words.
Usually dance. Usually drink.
Autopilot, these streets are mine.
What do we do?
Keep going. Nearly there.
What do we do?
Few more steps, keys in hand.
Usually – home.
© May 2008. The italics are “taken” from a single titled Wearing my Rolex by Wiley, which was released on 5th May 2008. It is used without Wiley or his record company’s permission, for the purpose of this poem and the original line of the song is: What would we do/Usually drink, usually dance, usually babble. It was the song I was listening to on a journey and the only thing that stopped me completely breaking down, alone in the middle of the street. The babble/bubble thing is just me being unable to hear the words clearly enough, but I like the bubble part!


Weathering Stormy Friends – Poem

Fair weather friends pop up, pop down, pop away again,
Taking what they want, leaching a soul away
Giving nothing in return, but a constant knowledge.
There is no falsehood. There is no pretence.

Tornado friends whirl in, swirl out and whirl in again,
Tossing up the fragile ecosystem, destruction left in its wake
Caring nothing for the path it takes, what it leaves.
There is no malice. There is no forethought.
Tornado friends simply breeze in unaware of their strength.

Every weather friends could be here three-six-five, or just now and then,
Acting simply as nature intended – a ray of sun in December
A drop of rain in August. There’s no matter.
It’s life. It’s unpredictable. But there is no leaching,
It’s a normal, day to day being, but there is no destruction.

© 6th November 2014

The Perfect Storm – Poem

You, you are my storm
My sudden downpour
My flash of blinding light.
You are my constant upheaval
My constant source of confusion
My disorientating blind panic.
The thunder deafens
The rain water drowns
The spray blinds and the wind chills.

You, you can storm at anytime
My Spring day suddenly showered
My Summer day suddenly darkened.
You always flash in the blue
My Autumnal day now slippy
My Winter day now slushy.
And you pass on to fresh ground,
Unknowing and unwavering
As you leave behind destruction.

You, you are my constant
Your inflicting pain will return
Your contradictions always resume.

© 6th November 2014

Dawn Breaks – Poem

Dawn breaks and people rise,
Wiping sleep from their eyes,
Opening curtains, they gaze,
Outward from their world,
Revealing more and more,
As the opposites collide,
There is a whole world,
And more underneath,
Hiding from the harsh,
Truth of autumn days,
Receding just bit by,
Overly small bit,
Slowly, slowly,
Peeling back,
Rolling over,
And away,
To reveal,


© November 2011


One Stormy Day – Poem

The grey heavens rumble,
A fight occurring deep within them,
Seeking an eternal escape now.
And forever with the lightening sword,
Stabbing over and over, exploring excitedly,
The world without.
And below the ground looks up,
Eagerly awaiting the obvious.
From what stares all around.
And the damned drown from pores,
That splinter from the force,
Flooding all that swells beneath.
And the heavens find relief,
Through the rumbles, the swords,
The ongoing effort of nature’s everlasting cycle.
And the constant play park of fun,
Except at the end of the longest stormy day,
When the grey heavens stab and splinter open.
And so too do the grey, peaceful eyes.

© 27th March 2013

The Gods Are Drowning – Poem

And so the chariot tumbles, crashing hard on to the Earth,
Failing in his daily task and beaten by the snake.
And so one God laughs and hisses as the other struggles hard,
Fighting to reclaim what’s his and bringing light into the day.
And then the eastern fire builds, raging hot from the Earth,
Flames licking upward, outward and as far as the eye can see.

And as the smoke thickens and plumes, covering the pale blue sky,
Storm clouds darken the whole world and everything becomes obscured.
And the world receives a tint of grey, for the eyes can be deceived,
Struggling to see through and battling to breathe.
And there’s a sudden illumination, forking across the world,
Splintering the sky for a moment, and numbing the ground below.

And the Sun God flashes and roars, fighting to succeed,
Revealing his desire to lighten and free the world.
And so the eternal battle goes, perhaps the wrong one will win,
Reality is much harsher and the Gods don’t understand.
And as the roars increase, the tears simply start to fall,
Raining down from the heavens and blanketing the sky.

And they splash onto the ground, soaking into the Earth,
Merging with the earth and raising tidal levels.
And his salt starts to wash away, impurities dissolving fast,
More and more it falls, floods, mixes and the faster it flows away.
And down and down it seeps, corroding the inner core,
Metal dissolves away and the mud merely thickens.

And the girl throws herself down, into the cool mud,
Her shoes are soaked through and all of her is wrinkling.
And as she stares upwards, she begs and pleads to him,
He will ease her pain and grant her heart’s desire.
And he will raise her up, he will not let her down,
Here and now she needs him, and his ears are deafened.

And the storm rages on, his anger and frustration,
And the pleading whispers dull, her voice irrelevant,
And he worries for his fate, the girl fears for them both.
And so the dance continues on, for another day,
Where he will fight and she will beg,
Until both or just one gives in to another way.

© 26th October 2011

Poem: Summer

The leaves barely move as the gentle summer breeze whispers over them,
Still and quiet, non-existent.
Commuters bustle in, buzzing around, droning on, staring into space,
Barging past, knocking and jostling, pollen transfers and stems break,
Fallen to the floor in a disregarded heap, waiting for the next whisper to move them on.
Even as new flowers bud, new leaves sprout, every day simply passes by as the summer thunders do.
A life giving sun beats down, burns down upon the withered,
As bathers simply lie back, enjoying another’s Hell on Earth.
Routine as clockwork, bullets whoosh past in reality, normality,
A horrendous, inescapable normality.

Go on your day. Notice these things. Just once.

Notice me.

(C) Persephone M 12th July 2014

Please note that this poem was originally posted on my other blog: Persephone: Parent