Mighty winds blow
Approaching storm
Sudden and accurate
An Old Man lived with Arthritis for a long time
A morning rise would be a pain experience
Went to Doctors and still no relief
On this specific morning, a Thunderstorm took place
Strong and true
The Old Man went to his kitchen to get a cup of coffee
One flash of lightning he went outside to get his newspaper
Immediately came a powerful jolt of a lightning bolt
It knocked him off his feet
He was able to get up
The Old Man felt the Arthritis was gone and he was now enabled
A miracle being a blessing took place
Heaven had been watching observing from above
Unexpected and the Old Man had no idea the miracle was coming
The Old Man to the Doctor to be examined, and the Doctor noticed that the Old Man’s Arthritis was gone
The Doctor questioned the Old Man in how did he do it?
The Old Man quickly responded that it was a spiritually bout
Now Lightning bolts do kill
But on this morning, it was a jolt of enriched and rise, and spread the miracle being a testimony apathy
Show the world in what can happen if one believes
The breeze that prepared for the miracle
Heaven’s action in deliverance.
Out of the blue, a bolt struck from the sky,
as angels stood round in a ring of fire.
I clutched the glowing arc, and did not die:
but I bathed in its holy baptism of fire!
Together, we called down that lightning: I
reached forth, as infinity and time seemed still.
The shaft of power before our dazzled eyes,
felt dreadful, eerie, and beyond unreal.
But star-crossed child of lightning and the Muse!
What cosmic purpose has the Lord thy God
reserved for thee?—which only life can choose.
O destiny, so shape it men may laud!
The circled band of angels God has chosen,
on him their mark may be forever frozen.
The jig was up
and the seller got the shaft
as the fletcher (all a-quiver)
pricing feathers (more arrows for to craft)
saw the target total cost (legal tender)
as sky-high (yet altho' not immoral)
let fly and shot his bolt (at the vender)
which started quite the quirky quarrel
Thomas Hobson (1544 –1631)
in 19th century late
a Cambridge ostler and postal carrier
set his priorities straight
he owned a livery stable
of 40 Hackney horses or more
plus boots bridles and whips
and put the horse the cart before
after the animal left the barn
by bolting fast the door
and as precautionary balm
the nag nearest the stable gate
the worn-out equine storm to calm
was the firm rule he did make
this one or none in the stall
was that which customers had to take
or do with no ride at all
but for the paying equestrians
either way they win or lose
as there was no choice but accept or reject
for any of them to choose
Harshly treated at 'so called' court.. whose only scales
Are visual.' In pure truth' such ruling is naught..No precedent of goodlaw given .' The judge surely needs to
Be forgiven.' Such blatent an affront the health and life, in
A country with indiginous; aging entrenched; its truly most rife'
This is un-fair, un-balanced and conspiricy in act, i see it was
All pre-meditated, in the whole proceedure; observing only the facts.'
A spark cast by a careless deed,
it catches fire and sparks twigs weed.
A hushed town that is dull at last,
a Careless deed, by a spark cast.
East winds howl to display their might,
and spout flames to a sturdy height.
Blaze any grace in that house foul,
to display their might, east winds howl.
Oh, fiery Fire, the town explodes!
with no farewell, let's hit the road.
One sleeps on tack others on dire,
the town explodes! Oh, fiery fire.
None shall remain where the wind passed,
this life, I think, can't be surpassed.
The town wept and the nation pain,
where the wind passed, none shall remain.
Written: October 05, 2022
Swap Quatrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
https://www.rhymezone.com/ and
https://www.howmanysyllables.com: with 8 syllables in each line.
Feeling like a lightening bolt
Ready to strike
At any moment
Day or night.
It’s now or never
To set off my flashes
Of light in the sky.
I am tired
Of holding on to that spark
And keeping ot to myself.
I am ready to let brightness shine
And be that lightening bolt
That nobody knows is inside of me
Waiting to come out and show itself.
Usain Bolt is a phenomenon.
It used to be: "Stockily Built,"
"Shooting like the ball from a canon"
And seriousness up to the hilt!
Along came Usain like a bolt!
Not with the tight and stringent run
But with the elegance of a colt
Directly from the sound of the gun.
He executes the knees-up style,
His chest's at maximum capacity.
And is held out all the while
While the legs speak agility.
He monopolizes not this style of running
But engages all departments to their limits.
He sees that all engines are firing
And ultimately deserves all plaudits!
Something minute had been carefully tucked away, it was a nut
Got loose, rolled helplessly away, had no direction afraid, she shut
Her eyes, and slowly rolled towards a destined force,
An eager bolt nearby bolt gave her the eye, she thought to pause,
She looked at him said hi, but continued to roll and to strut,
The bolt flirted outrageously with this shiny nut, that felt
Maybe he should be bolted onto her, but quick action was now due
The feeling in his gut sent urgent message, he whispered to
the nut, that next door, there was an empty little hut, she thought a bit
But excited so surprised, she rolled her eyes, was not about to quit,
They tumbled and bumped and arrived at the hut together, at ease
but excited, she coyly asked, may we use a washer please.
This love once upon a time tasted so sweet,
Now it's tainted with betrayal and deceit
.
Shot in the back by friendly fire,
Trying to get thru to you is like preaching to the choir.
If you think about it, it's kind of funny like a joke,
It's a gamble let it ride go for broke.
Lying, cheating, hurting that’s all you know,
What you going to do come time to eat crow.
You never mentioned this is just a ride,
You destroyed my world when you turned the tide.
I did not until recently meet the inner beast,
Was not prepared for the energy it released.
You can't think on your feet you don't roll like that,
Want you to know you are not where it's at.
You turn it up and you turn it on when it benefits you
You’re a sexual energy a bolt from the blue.
TURBO1904 2021
A man was too drunk to give his son a ride.
Lightning struck his only son and he died.
He drank too much and his son had to walk to his friend's house.
When he had to bury the son who he lost, he also lost his spouse.
His wife was working at the time and she packed her bags and walked out the door.
She blamed her husband for their son's death and she didn't want to be married to him anymore.
After his wife left him, he was so heart broken that he committed suicide.
He was heart broken because he lost his wife and because his son died.
If he hadn't drank himself into a stupor, his son would still be alive.
After losing his family, he decided that he didn't deserve to survive.
This unfortunate man ended his own life with his gun.
He lost everything when a lightning bolt killed his son.
The Shape of Mourning
by Michael R. Burch
The shape of mourning
is an oiled creel
shining with unuse,
the bolt of cold steel
on a locker
shielding memory,
the monthly penance
of flowers,
the annual wake,
the face in the photograph
no longer dissolving under scrutiny,
becoming a keepsake,
the useless mower
lying forgotten
in weeds,
rings and crosses and
all the paraphernalia
the soul no longer needs.
Keywords/Tags: life, death, death of a friend, grave, memory, memories, memorial, mourning, funeral, shape, mourning, eulogy, bolt, steel, locker, penance, wake, keepsake, keepsakes, memento, mementos, rings, crosses, paraphernalia
once the dolt's brain bolts, chaotic codes find no way to fade
once the dolt's tongue bolts, the Pentagon owes him a parade
what sort actually matches his review? toads croaking in the shower shade
and only those shape the true imagery of how he and his henchmen wade
under Mueller's investigation, against which they've tried every shabby charade
charade, charade, the botching of which is the dolt's lifetime trade
rolled up the sleeves
of my sky-blue shirt
as the birds retreated,
and the winds herded
the gray clouds —
a fluffy vainglorious sight,
the darkening like night.
electricity pulses the flesh.
eyes flash, awaiting my ride.
the quickening of my dream,
to catch a lightning bolt.
i’d climb its ladder,
the serrated edges of
its knife, like an empress
being carried to war,
but with child-like venture.
can you hear the classic
music trumpeting, the violin’s
bow — sharp against its strings?
stars, like hail, twinkle and sing
in my imagining. the bolt
releases me into the curio-clouds.
on my back, i float in compacted drops
of rain. the electric extravaganza
continues, and i await the cloudburst.
my boat of smoky-gray rocks me
gently, places me under a great oak,
where i see my name etched in a heart.
excelsior at the foot of the fine Spring Oak,
alongside a swiss army knife. i gather the curls,
placing them inside my pocket — a memory,
smiling as sun rays release, scent of cinnamon hair.
1/23/2018
Creative writing is such fun
Just picture something, it could be a scary gun
Let your imagination conjure up a scene
It may be violent or serene
Jot your thoughts down wherever you may be
That’s the secret to remember what your imagination can see
It could be instantaneous or you may want to place it in a file
But putting it together makes it all worthwhile!
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