The look in his eyes forecast a storm of emotions about to hit
Everything to this point had been smooth sailing on calm seas
Mentioning her name, though, had brought a sudden change for the worse
Pushing himself up out of his chair, he leveled a finger
Everyone was quiet, waiting for the lightning bolt of his anger to strike
So when the finger went back down without a word, well everyone thought the worst had past
That’s when he took one step forward and a rain of fists poured down
Putting my toes in the ocean with the wind in my hair and the heavy scent of salt in the air
And if not then a crystal clear lake with cabins and joy all around
Rural roads with mile upon mile of fresh blacktop and not a car in sight
A strong wind during twilight bringing the fresh smell of a coming storm
Dark night under the stars, friends to either side sharing stories and jokes
Icy cold in contrast to a bright sun reflecting off a virgin snowfall
Surreally painted skies at the beach, good tunes on the radio, watching the sun sink slowly off stage west
Everyone should occasionally go to their special place to recharge their soul in their own …
He was sick of feeling empty inside
Only self-pity seemed to fill the void, and he knew that wasn’t healthy
Looking out over the storm-tossed ocean waves, he wondered what to do
Love felt so far away, somewhere out there past the emotional gray horizon
Of course, even if he got out there it might not help
Walking away from the water, he tried to convince himself that being full wouldn’t feel all that great
The storm crashed through the valley
Heaving tree branches and debris to-and-fro
Until there seemed to a charged pause
Negative particles madly dash from sky to ground
Determined to find a place to rest
Except that outbreak from the heavens causes heated air to flee the scene
Resulting in colder air to rush in and clap at the drama of it all
The lightning and thunder are at his command
His hand holding a spinning Mjolnir
Outside he looks like he is as calm as the eye of a hurricane
Reality was the true storm was raging inside
Stabbing light slashed down from stone-gray clouds
The weather perfectly fit Patty’s mood as fat raindrops ravaged the arid soil
Outside nature threw one of her best temper tantrums
Reminding Patty of her last relationship when she finally broke it off
Men could be such whiners
Be like the majestic wild stag
Understand that it is important to be proud
Contemplate where the hunters may be and avoid them
Keep strong in the midst of the storm
Image: pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/378800000857384396/La-jMhd_.jpeg
The storm was coming; she could feel it in her bones
Electrical shocks paused through her emotional system
Making her nerves sizzle, waiting for the other shoe to fall
Penelope didn’t want to be this apprehensive
Everyone has a bad day every once in a while
So she was due, and yet she knew this was different
Thunder rolled across her mental landscape. Then the downpour started
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The killing field surrounded her as if she was in the eye of the storm. Bodies strewn all over, stabbed, shot, burnt. Not another living soul was in sight. Fallen comrades in arms were strewn among the remains of their enemies. It was a miracle that she was alive considering how much of her own blood stained the ground beneath her feet.
Her unit had been sent out to stop the approaching horde. Their village had been decimated by the plague, so they could only send out farmers and those too old to serve anymore. She was amazed they had stopped the monsters from taking away what was left.
She was so tired, but there was still there was more to do. She lit her torch and began to burn those bodies closest to her. The stench of sizzling flesh stung her lungs and eyes, but she didn’t pause as she raced to set more of the fallen ablaze.
The battle had been fast, but not fast enough. She tried to cry, but the tears were too tired to come. As the moon rose, so did the fallen. She could only set herself on fire. One fewer for the enemy.
Image: i.pinimg.com/originals/d2/c0/61/d2c06151201d367589923c0bc0d96c22.jpg
As the party swirled around him
Liam felt like he was in the eye of the storm
Only those looking for a respite would stop to chat
Never staying long before being swept back up into the fray
Eventually, he faded away back home
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Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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Never Short On Words 