I'm the girl who gets lost
Does she ever come back?
only in pieces I think
This cloud chaser that I am
Dissappears bit by bit
A life of incomplete sentences, unfinished poems
I've become a collection of random notes left amongst the stars
I must search the sky at night to gather those thoughts
A vague reflection, this stranger that peers back at me through the mirror
With all that I've loved, I've left some part of me behind
Now I can see what's missing
I want something to fill the space between, me and me
Let me draw you a map to these constellations I've created
Can I be your favorite story?
He's a cyclone chaser, cloaked in neon tracer
that mirrors stars dying, heartless witches flying
Clouds move like thunder
raging across dark streaked sky
rain pelts onto ground
the asleep count sheep
the woke mind the wake
our decisions make
***
storm chaser
cotton clouds billow
feisty winds in frisky moods ~
thunder approaches
lightning bolts run wild
leaves flash in silver storm hues ~
driving rain thrashes
sunbeams chase the storm
summer stretches 'cross calm skies ~
storm makes quick get away
7/20/21
Pea green and sea green stuck at a bar ~
they washed down the sand with water
Time sada chukay bilu Mori
Gal vich eday kali dori
Time sada chukay bilu Mori
Shayer babu ay munda lahori
Time sada chukay bilu Mori
Baanh vich kara chapal peshori
Time sada chukay bilu Mori
Ay laga phiray chori chori
Time sada chukay bilu Mori
Khuda janda recce de story
Time sada chukay bilu Mori.
Note. Ham kis marz ki dava hain.
The sun is out
In full gear
What fun
What a day
Tooting its own horn
Blaring and glaring
How absolutely divine
Delightful and delirious
Playfully parading
Elated and excited
Gorgeously giddy
Joyous and jolly
The sun’s come out to play
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Posted on January 20, 2020
I want the earth in my hand,
I need a house in aso.
For the great sea serpents and land
They all shall come to bow,
I wish i could ride in night,
And build a house in cloud.
My wealth shall reach the sky in height
Holier than thou in crowd
Bow the gods in dark,
Stab your soul with sharp
Cunning soul and mine touch and spark
An incessant cry i heard
In the fort night bright i see
The unmercy angel with smile and frank
I wail and beg forgive
But no mercy cry incessant he sang
My opulent, my inheritance has gone
Me avarus ignorance of knowledge chase the wind from west to south.
Indulged in cherished fantasy in awaken state,
to risk illusion or suffer unrealistic ambition.
Fanciful actions to turn into reality,
in vain hope, we climb,
we climb to the top of our dream
And in that moment we transit from a Dream Chaser to a Dream Achiever.
Their wind doesn't make your climate
That's just how storms roll
Turning over mole hills and mountains
Looking for change
7/17/2019
Excerpt from Brainstormy Weather
Adapted for Arbitrium Divisa 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gregory R Barden
Chaser in flat world
Ends up the chased in round world
Time controls the run.
Dreams
I chase,
frustration!
Obscurities.
Disappointment looms,
your presence has no room,
it’s cluttered, hoarded regrets.
Reverie, like you, escapes grasp,
like trying to hold sand in my hands.
My dreams slipping through can never come true.
Susan Ashley
July 18, 2017
(June 26, 2017)
STORM CHASER
Living on the edge driving into town as others evacuate,
into harm’s way to the edge,
Mother Nature kickin’ ass. Yours?
From Taiwan and a typhoon to Florida
to a hurricane, this is your rush,
your heart beat of life. See piers smashed,
roads washed away, houses disappear,
people die in a second. All men are equal
in this fury as energy is expended.
Watch from space, see circle of fluffy
white clouds, yet on the surface it’s mayhem
central. Storm chaser’s work is always dangerous
and never boring. Travel 30,000 miles in two weeks,
get some great photos and capture history.
Nearly washed away, under collapsed buildings,
horizontal rain and thunderous clouds.
Only drama here, never boring, storm chaser’s work.
chasing a dream in a tunnel of steam and smoke
running really fast gasping for air as i choke
clinching my fist swinging at shadows as they pop in and out of the mist
catching my dream at the end of the tunnel is something i dearly wish
but all i can see is the hour of sorrow that holds stedfast at the end of the line
and even good morrow is bitter and sour like the taste of a twisted lime
but my dreams keep running and the faster my stride the faster she tends to run
like a bullet inside a six chambered barrel shot from a loaded gun
but this is the pursuit of a happy endeavor
no matter what the outcome maybe
and although life throws you whatever
just keep on chasing your dreams
Related Poems