storm – Wordsmith: At The Forge

Wailing Works

By brian francis

When the winds howl and rattle
Thunder peeling like a great gong
Penetrates, subsonic waves crashing
The thin streaks of light branching
Race across the sky crackling aloud
Creosote breathes its fragrant smell
Wafting on the wailing winds swirling
Shuddering and shaking the turmoil
Undulates into a mighty crescendo

The deafening sound of the storm
Intensifies as the clouds release
The gentle pitter patter so tentative
At first swells to become natures roar
As the winds drive the waves passing
Cleansing the very air with ozone
That wonderful scent of after storm
Like wafting incense drifting out of
This great temple of the gods

Copyright © 2022 brian francis

Thunder’s Roar

by Brian Francis

Somewhere in the distance
I can hear the thunder roar
Rain drops pitter-patter
At the door
Somehow all the storm clouds
Rise and then they fall
Bringing cool refreshment
Nature’s call

And while laying here
Feeling your warm touch
Shivers of excitement
Seem too much
The gentle supple friction
Of our love’s embrace
The rhythm intertwining
Face to face

Passion’s magic moments
That yearning from within
Rapture in that instant
Does begin
Somewhere deep inside me
I can hear the thunder roar
Touching lips to lips
Wanting more

Desert Storm

by brian francis

I sat alone in the rain,
lightening, casting strobe like shadows all around.
The clouds, reaching down and touching upon me,
sending joyous shivers across my being.

Worshiping the storm and receiving its blessings;
awed by the beauty, the strength, the wonder.
Swirling clouds, imitating forms in the sky.
Thunderheads, rising to their flat tops,
before falling, violently, back to earth
in the cold burst, of what are monsoon.

These, the storms of desert evenings,
rise in the afternoons, of summer’s days.
Giving life to all of the desert’s children, in turn.

The saguaro stands majestically, poised on eternity.
Its crown of color open,
worn proudly in the silhouette
of lightning’s flash.

Sonoran Monsoon

by brian francis

When rainbows cast across the sky
Like great and colorful, flying buttresses
For the storms of summer’s evenings

When Lightning flashes bold and bright
Alighting clouds and singing nature’s roar
Reaching to the ground; a screaming hiss

When the air you breathe seems alive
With the vitality of heroic clashes
As the clouds swirl and toss above

That is when the desert comes alive
The monsoon calls in ancient song
As life unfolds embracing the storm

The nurturing of the gods gives birth
As flowers reaching grasp at the sun
And all life in the desert lives brightly

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