He breezed in after a whirlwind tour of the local pubs.
Feeling muggy, he drifted up the stairs like a silent mist,
but was greeted with an isobar across the back of the head.
An icy stare froze him to the spot, followed by a maelstrom of words
that bounced off the walls, pounding him like giant hailstones.
Then fighting against a hurricane he slipped in a pool of hate
He glanced up to see her chest swelling, then with an avalanche
Of abuse she predicted a cold front coming in…
It is cold this April morning
But I will not turn on the heat
got double socks on my feet
ate a bowl of warming cream of wheat
Still cold this April morning
Coffee hot to heat soul
wear sweater inside to fight the cold
furnace stays off to many bills I owe
Cold April morning
Just the other day it was hot enough to sway
turning on the AC on just a little would be okay
but than a cold front blew in for a few days
April Morning
The rain is cool the wind is strong the flowers droop with dread
spring had sprung a warm sunny one but it seems the seasons kid
but enjoy it now for the summer swelter beacons, I like it now instead.
lightsabers slash skies
cold front goads humidity —
the black night bleeds rain
Through warm and cold front sensations,
We've weathered many storms.
But the cessation of the sole connection
Left us bleak, laden with human forms.
The reverberating of chimes is so loud,
Reminds us of what we once had.
But now that we're lost in a sea of doubt,
I wondered if it was all just a fad.
We used to share everything.
Our thoughts, our dreams, and our fears
But now that we're too busy even text-messaging.
Our relationship was reduced to mere cheers.
But still, there's hope in our heart's wand.
One day we'll reunite.
And once again, we'll forge a bond.
That will shine brighter than any light.
Nothing can break the bond we share.
It's too strong to ever fade.
And though we may drift apart to be aware,
Our love for each other will never be betrayed.
Written: June 08, 2023
familiar bonding
warm and cold front sensation
cessation of sole
ding-donging of bells so wed
coming together again
I learned to let your inhibitions teach me.
That when we push everyone away-
We slowly become statues of ourselves.
As we become encrusted in the anger that stills our being.
Certainly, we have reached milestones together.
As kindness captured us.
But I am passing this cold front that is taking you-
I can still feel the chill…
And I sometimes pretend you are not gone.
Just inhibited.
Grey Sky
wind picked up
cold front
Nebraska has turned herself gray early this year
A desolate cornfield stands torn and disheveled
A cold front comes in from the north
She whips a few strands from the stalks
An anticipatory shiver goes through the field
An empty feeling of winter saturates the ground
Deer have decimated the last few corn kernels
Nebraska winters rival those in Michigan
Some days, psychosis can be a fun secret.
Even during those times where the pain was direct.
Sometimes, those memories track me down.
My reality shifts, and so does the sound.
But what I could make out from the static-
Turns me starlit and erratic.
Is that cold front a new clue?
Is the weatherman’s voice trying to imbue?
Nonsense translates into the hope I seek.
I wonder if this is a wakeful peak.
I wish to share the magic from the void.
But they say this psychosis I should avoid!
The trill under the
morning star
rings out a gusto
and vivacious song.
Oh! Sweet merle your irrepressible melody
defies all that is logic, the chill piercing morning
still only an infant, barely the time
to receive the accolades of sunrise.
Yet here lays the deepest frost
a cold front that sleeps not
driven upon a tempest,
from the ice continent
across the Southern Ocean,
does not discourage
you, your performance
bequeath daily, a spirit
of freedom, played out
to an enkindle audience.
Your act of unique tenderness,
drifts along to all that would listen,
a gift-wrapped sonata, in this,
a night shift world.
Each morning
gently you
succour nature
from her temporal
sleep, akin to the lone
Bugler at his post
your reveille to
each brand-new day.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
cold front moving through
heavy snowstorm approaching
darkening shadows
grocery with empty shelves
setting up zig-saw puzzle
written January 14, 2022
ATHENA IN THE AFTERNOON
We drove the high edge of the valley,
late summer lush green, the cobalt sky
a passing cold front with lightning and
rain threatening our day
“It’s beautiful!” I said
“Yes!” she replied like a lazy idea in red
thong sandals, dark blue jeans, a man’s
oversize shirt, her curly black hair an
elegant chaos from an ancient Greek vase
I mentioned the sky, she reached for her
purse, applied color to her face
“Yes, Honey” she said as she painted her
lips red with a narrow black brush
I said “You don’t even know…….
“Not now” she said, her black-rimmed
glasses reflecting the valley, the deepening
sky, the depth in her eyes
“Honey”, she said, “we’ll crash for sure
if you don’t watch the road and I’m really
not pretty, I just am what I am until you
look at me, then…I am….your love”
The lightning flashed twice, caught the
red ribbon in her hair
She drew a sudden breath….and leaned
closer to me
Sometimes the summertime is just not a friend.
Oh, you wish autumn would now begin.
Oh, for relief now and then
a cold front please send
snow somehow.
END
oh, please now
hot summertime’s trend
even if we must pretend
locked tight in an air-conditioned den.
Sometimes the summertime is just not a friend.
7/14/2020
Andaree - 11 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Today winds at 20 miles per hour
The temperature is 90
no electricity no power
Santa Cruz Halloween costumes will be about
the Joker and surfing
Wild fires red and orange, windy and smoky
San Francisco schools are closing
Muir Woods blackened as wood is disappearing
San Diego in the hills have evacuations
Tornado Warnings for Mobile, AL
the basement shutters in a storm rotation
New Orleans severe rains and flash floods
where jazz music and instruments are floating
An Arctic cold front sweeps through the north
friends fighting breathing in Dakota
aware of the potential for pneumonia
And the snow storms from the skies
We are back to the times when mankind and wildlife
fought for food and shelter as even technology fails
White sharks are roaming at Rio Del Mar
at 90 in October the living bay waters are hot
I share my peanuts and water in the heat of the 90s
but I notice that the squirrels and crows do not
Flowers wilt, there is no breeze
Leaves droop, they're not pleased
Grass turns a sickly brown
There's a heat wave in town
Faces are taut
Greetings, coerced
Skin's pasty white
Every movement, coerced
Dogs pant on the pavement
Tongues hanging out
Your arthritis is worse
And so is your gout
Feel like ending it all?
~ Here comes a cold front
A Taste of Fall!
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