broken branches fall
power lines a tangled mess
squirrels and birds hide
In this windstorm
trees become mangled
uprooted from pristine gardens
nature becomes aloof
watching
waiting
for everything to settle
It's not gone with the wind
it's swept up by the wind
there goes my lawn chair
twirling across backyard
like many cyclone
windstorm
another day in paradise
damage
Ceasing vision as a kiss viewing blurred;
I'm blinking fluttering beliefs sentiments;
So a precured glimpse visual perceptions;
~
Grays whites viewed bombarded glimpse of dim mist;
In the drought bronze misted blinded heated dulls;
Now seeing dawns slanted luminosity blanket lulls;
~
Crying blinded drawn breath respired uncoiled;
Blinking sighted hot burnt ambers hazed lonely summer days;
a droughting dust storm hot breath atmosphere kissed at bay;
~
Face is hot not as warm;
Vision block not blurred;
I'm panting caught up in, This dried summer's windstorm;
~
8/2/21~ 2021©
For Imagism Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
wind
w h i s p e r s
warnings
07.14.2021
when the symbol outweighs the citizen ~ meaning waves in the wind
***
skyscraper swaying
eye to eye with gulls at play~
put on my sea legs
12/28/2020
snatching of branches
side to side bending a-swoosh ~
passerines hold fast
5/7/2020
Tania Kitchin’s A Haiku with Movement
The crimson sky darkens
flames of anguish hurls
across the whole world ignores
our hero digs his lot
Killing himself slowly... peacefully
as if the rain clouds
are tranquil and loving
our hero lives a dream
only deep within a asylum
where sorrow paces back
and forth with anxiety on
his shoulder spreading gossip
about our hero except
he's dug the lot
took out a razor blade
writing songs on his wrist
resembling decade long scars
with eyes resembling a windstorm
an pond of tears pours
deep into his lot
drowning his life away
cutting away useful minutes
All images cease to exist
now darkness hurls the horizon
I saw you in my room last night
and you always used to grow cold
when you felt the ceiling fan cool your skin
I remembered when we used to talk
and share our memories
You of morocco
and mine of a morocco that never was
I had a wedding dress on and I was standing
somewhere in a hallway in Marrakesh
You had that life and you lost it
I never got that life and lost it as well.
I can smell the smoke of flames gone past
and songs never sung
And I loved you that December
Even though you were never mine
Cruel but innocent man with a face so soft
I never lost you my Moroccan cause I never
possessed you
But that's what made you so pretty
lying but honest heart thief
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