SHE
IS
THE
WIND
She is the wind,
a warm gentle breeze on a cold day,
She is the wind
caressing your skin with a kiss
and the morning sun rips
through the weekend blinds
like an eclipse.
She is the wind
the forceful Jetstream across my heart
She is the wind
giving locomotion to the clouds
charging from the horizon
like marauding pirate ships
and she whips.
She is the wind
gustily moving through my body
She is the wind
a cold steel blade, how it rips
and love’s empty hands reach out
clutching but through my fingertips
she slips.
Categories:
jetstream, analogy, lonely, solitude,
Form: Rhyme
Pieces of me course through your veins.
I fog your thoughts.
I cause your pains.
I block the drains.
I pool within you, stagnant.
You break my surface and then,
only then do you see how toxic you are,
we are.
We travel so far,
plagues in the jetstream,
bugs in the mainframe,
a glitch,
a worldwide *****,
an unscratchable itch.
We are caught,
like an insect,
trapped beneath a glass,
on a window,
nowhere to hide,
all for the best,
all for scrutiny,
to be examined,
under the microscope,
under the hammer,
under the glare,
and for a minute there...
...I lost myself.
Categories:
jetstream, self,
Form: I do not know?
Scattered Ash
by Odin Roark
The urn is tipped
Scattered ash enjoins
Jetstream
Jetsam
Flotsam
Atop the winds and currents
Nature's gathering
Knowing not yet
The next evolution of life's decay
Possibility awakens
This consciousness beyond our own
This departure from one actuality
Into the reformation of another
Molecular iteration begun decades earlier
Now roaming carefree among other airborne particles
Innocent stowaways enfolded in winged flights
Or ocean saturated driftings
Bobbing patiently
Awaiting new beginnings
As the journey continues
Feathers
Seaweed
Plastic cups and bottles
Provide passage
Shoreward
Skyward
Forward
A measureless journey this
Where matter exists forever
Where ash continues as yesterday's index
Referring to tomorrow's pages
Scattered ashes
Once of flesh and blood
Now returning to the vortex of cosmic chance
Where fresh finger-paints of infancy
Become infinity's next masterpiece
To mourn or not to mourn
Omniscience winks
Categories:
jetstream, death,
Form: Free verse
Virga
Your impression beckons me
as you slumber coyly
through the day.
I, too, can play
chords up in the jetstream
during your unfathomed dream
I can find a secret and
lock it in my pulse
until the storm.
And when the gale, vespertine,
roars and carries mountains
forth
Humbly, I deliver you
my caring vision
from the shore.
Categories:
jetstream, nature
Form: Lyric