Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

tonight
lightning, thunder,
that child-scaring show of emotion.
I'm safe, dry, thinking, not feeling,
trying not to claw the air.
I write simple descriptive sentences.
Sentences? Prison terms for the
anguish that flashes its teeth in
the shallows. It is hard hiding
the hurt, the wound to my colossal
pride. Pride? Everyone is prejudiced
against pride. Even I stare in the
mirror, lament the ugliness of
my own thoughts, so unreasonable, the
flashes of light in the eyes and the
thunder of the words. The broken
trees, the splintered roots, the fallen
world disemboweled and littered with embitterment.

I like the echoes of the answers. Wish it were that easy.

68degrees

bitter tastes can linger on and on, it is hard to forgive and forget for many of us, but he grudge will literally kill you....healing from old wounds needs lots of time....in a dry place, out of the storm....

Good metaphor. On one hand, nature is nature, including storms. On the other hand, when "conscious thought and action" are wrapped into the complex equation, then storms become (ironically?) a bit more ambiguous, extraneous and indeterminate.

Or, maybe that's just nature too.

funny i was asked about pride in the middleof a rockin show last night....lisa said pride? i said huh? about 4 times till she got the point:)

like life's soundtracks, just listened to the Moloch section of Howl
and here you are walking that flash path of searing word

that's what i can say...
a marvel of sync

Ton, I'm thinking about your comments. I'm going to let this poem sit for a little while. Will get back to it.