The
Nights
Fury
Lacerates
Into tortured flesh
Fiery hailstones slowly embed
Underneath wailing dermis, sorrowfully bruising
A misplaced poet, madness gradually invading like rabies cultivating
Within tainted bloodstreams, forgotten faces liquify into frothing depraved moonbeams, psychedelic hallucinations corrupting
Underworld’s wolves broke their gate, snarling with labored breath, piercing of dawn welcomes a funeral of fireflies, eclipsed by a broken brain being delicately dissected by elongated canines feasting ravenously
To drift amongst the clouds above,
To meet the travelers passing by in love,
Speaking of choices, paths to pursue,
And all the wonders waiting to be true.
Rushing back to earth they'll fly,
Many friends will go rushing by,
Leaving their mark so profound,
Hailstones come crashing all around.
Drifting down, so slowly goes,
Calmly as the current flows,
To rest upon a child’s upturned nose,
So light it slips, then softly goes.
Renewing rivers rushing through,
Dipping into oceans oh so blue,
Creating music upon arid land,
Flooding waters taking command.
All rushing turning the day to night,
Thunder calling all to join the fight,
Lightning piercing right down to the ground,
Storms gather with so much sound.
I drifted on, imagining the fall—
A single raindrop, dreaming through it all.
The wind whistles over the mountains
Across the valley below
Just to let you know it’s there
And to say hello
The chill it brings makes the air go cold
You shiver and shake just to keep warm
It can also bring inclement weather
Hailstones, Rain or Snow
As it howls out its fearful call
Animals run for cover
To find a nice sheltered place
To huddle against one another
Darkened clouds form overhead
You know a storm is brewing soon
As darkness descends you tend to forget
Its only early afternoon
The Trees and Flowers will welcome
The storm that is about to commence
But an Owl contemplates his next move
As he sits upon a fence
The nearby wood seems to be
His refuge throughout the coming storm
So off he flies to sit and wait
Till all returns to norm
The Deer are all running wildly
Frightened at what is about to occur
As other creatures run and hide
Suddenly everything’s a blur
As the Wind and Rain starts to pour down
With Hailstones, Snow and Rain
The Valley becomes a desolate place
Until better weather returns again
Shortly all is quiet
As the storms desist and leave
But leaving behind such devastation
Such a sight is hard to believe.
Draped trees, etched in crimson fire,
Sun’s last kiss, as day retires.
Scattered clouds, in dazzling dress,
Raindrops hang, a jeweled caress.
Rainbow’s Bridge, across the blue,
Violet-green, and reds anew,
Sahara’s winds, a whispered sigh,
Hot sand dances underneath a fiery sky.
Snowy peaks, in crystal light,
Flakes like stars, taking flight,
Frozen frost, upon the pane
Winter breathes, a chilling reign.
Warm mist rises, soft and slow,
Kissing earth, a whispered flow,
Fog ascends, a silent shroud,
Nature’s secrets whispered loudly.
Hailstones ping, like needles fine,
Tiny tines, a silver wine.
Thunder cracks, a lightning’s tear,
Gray skies weep, the winds hold fear.
Hurricanes, with winds that moan,
Ocean’s wrath, upon the stone.
Trees uprooted, in twisting dance,
Twister’s fury, given a chance.
This silhouette is a stage so grand,
Nature’s drama is close at hand.
From fiery dawn to frozen night
Her beauty is vast, her power, bright.
So let us stand in awe, and humbly see,
The silhouette of nature, wild and free
for the children of the Holocaust, Ukraine and Gaza
Where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails
when thunder howls
when hailstones scream
when winter scowls
when nights compound dark frosts with snow
where does the butterfly go?
Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,
where does the butterfly go?
And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?
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…
They love her eyes
She, too, loves them
Those sunglasses
Soft grasses
Lofting moments
High in the air
Buying time
On the windows
Large and small
On the beach
In the dancing hall
On waves
Dwarf and tall
No brawl
No gall
In sunglasses
Just alone
In a safe zone
No cellphone
No hailstones
No woes
Only shows
Glowing in the sun
Big guns and zeros
The scholar and
The vagabond
Small ponds and
Ocean
Viewing cloistered
And oystered
What a bliss
Once captured
Painful to miss
Cloud nine and
Abyss
______
July 3, 2025
Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind.
She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.
The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.
Through a plasma screen
the attractive lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb
and transfix.
I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that the weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.
It has no conscious and does not care!
To know it's coming brings much despair!
A Great Big Bully, lands on this earth.
This spinning funnel is heading North!
Dark clouds You see, hailstones and Rain!
Destruction follows, Strong Winds to blame!
The Weather channel on high Alert!
Warns increase wind gust, are getting worse!
Nowhere to run to, nowhere to go!
You're at its mercy, loosing all hope!
A cursed word screamed at the howling wind!
As windows break, and the storm roars in!
You Brace yourself as it makes impact!
Your home lifts up, drops, as you react!
Your at its Mercy, as debris flies!
In a state of shock, but still alive!
Your soul is shaken, as winds die down!
Destruction and damage, all around!
You catch your breath, there's nothing left!
Broken and crying, from this Attack!
The storm is over, calmness returns.
Oh No, Near Cuba, another Storm!!!!!
Michael Tor
Michael Tor
I wrote this for all those
souls including my brother
Gus and his family that are
waiting for Miltons's wrath.
Please pray for these souls.
Thank you.
And then sun proves
its mettle. Its warm rays hit
neighborhoods, forests and all
at enlarged angle of impingement.
Brightness and heat return
to maximize uplift of moods.
Energy is injected into lives
that had been lethargic.
They expose their busts and limps
and walk, skip, run and
swim in celebration of life.
Jamborees on grass and floors!
Backpackers arrive at toes
of cliffs, and some are crazy
enough to trust springy ropes
to swing in bungy jumps.
Inhibition decay in the summer
as heat warms and over burns at times.
some runners overstretch
and collapse in a heap with
exhaustion promoted by heat.
The sun darkens some folks
to decrease color differences
on display on the beaches.
Nature chimes in with winds
and grumbling as thunder.
occasionally, it relieves the
heat with showers and rain
that falls in torrents.
It sends hailstones to curb excesses.
it is summer time above
the equation, and migratory
birds and folks with cash
from the other half will also
come to join the regionals
here to shout and jerk in play.
Unseasonal summer rains at once burst
Everywhere litter and garbage dispersed
Making men run here and there for shelter
In no time, life becomes helter-skelter
Unexpected like facing an old friend
Heat waves turn into zephyrs in the end
Enraptured by a great relief to hearts
Pleasant weather diffused in many parts
Unlucky for farmers who toiled year long
Grains stay afloat; a heart rendering song
In the wink of an eye, things go tumbled
Happy dreams about their kindred crumbled
Unkind like a bad master who reviles
Vicious arrows of words for making trials
With tongue lashing, makes the servants feel hurt
As huge hailstones thudding down with a spurt
Unfurls an eye feasting vibrant rainbow
Cleans air and makes leaves look fresh and aglow
Koel starts singing as if spring gets back
A curtain raiser to ‘Fall’ next on track
Place: 2nd
Although it's a well worn cliche,
there is something soothing
in the thought of lying in bed
listening to rain. Last night
I was front row in a symphony.
An adagio of soft fall, murmurings
on a metal roof and whispers
running along gutters.
Calm in the tempo
of raindrops, muted gargles
and gulps echoed inside
the throats of downpipes.
Then everything changed.
A quickening pace heralded
heavy rain and hailstones
falling in a roar of wind.
Lightning flashed
behind curtains, thunder
drew nearer, giant, swollen
bags of noise burst
to come crashing down,
rattling windows and sending
the spill rushing through
doorways into tense rooms.
Heaven unleashed its might,
as if trying to tear itself away
from this world,
as it still does, weighted
with words and held here
on a page, longing to lift
into song with drum rolls
and tremble in a crescendo
fit for a thousand voices,
straining to break free
and fly somewhere else,
finding itself stuck
in a poem, slowly drifting
towards sleep
and oblivion.
Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind
She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.
The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.
Through a plasma screen
the buxom lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
meanwhile elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb
while they transfix.
I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.
It started with dry leaves
pirouetting around
the yard on the back
of a skittish breeze,
the magnolia rubbing
against the fence
as if scratching an itch,
a few raindrops teasing
a thirst. Then,
distant thunder.
The sound seemed to cue
a tightening in the core,
an instinctive brace against
what was to come. Soon,
a sudden flash…
followed by a loud crack
and a shudder sent rolling
through the guts of every
living thing.
Wind clawed at seams,
unpicking the afternoon
to fling leaf, branch
and limb into tumbling air,
cartwheeling chairs across
the lawn. Hailstones tore
the fragile into bite size bits,
beheading blooms before
suddenly stopping
and crusting the ground
in a white shroud
of innocence.
It was over. An unusual quiet
let soft sounds soothe
the air - trickling water,
the tap of weighted leaves
shedding raindrops,
murmurings of ice melt.
I felt an easing
as if an anger within me
had been released
leaving only a sigh.
I'm
the
white fog
layered on
gold-jasmine face of
the orange moon, shimmering with
shy starships and laced along hailstones of honesty;
When the sapphires of earth are etched with orchestral milky beams, smeared with ominous balms,
I want you to weave a cherry-crescent with periwinkle dreams and let aqua-pink amulets swing with gossamer threads of lotus-life,
which shall pull my sempiternal heartstrings, as frost of the last snow kisses the lunar orchards, twirling upon maroon ruins of moonwalking memories. I'll forever be that silver haze, lingering in your soul's seascapes.
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