Audio · Poem · Poetry

New Audio: Spared

Spared a winter but not a spring.

Hail thrashes, splitting the wind

Into crystals lit by flashes,

Revealing shadows touching down

Like long fingers pointing curses.

My husband, the one-eyed lamp,

In our basement cave,

Checking the radar on his I-phone.

The cats subdued by the growling wind,

Finding refuge under a table by their litter.

And I, swathed in a blanket,

Sitting on the porta-potty seat,

Left over from a surgery,

To remain a throne in a storm.

My messages failed to send.

Roars diminishing to low growls,

Lightning flails like extinguishing flames,

Thunder stomps like a child wanting attention.

It passes over without forgiving.

New-born daffodils embracing the deluge now strain for morning.

Even storms are gifts.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Brusheezy (free download)

https://www.brusheezy.com/brushes/1464-lightning-brushes

lightning-brusheslightning-brushes

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Hades

Monstrous molten lightning and thunder

Twisting into Fujita’s cyclone of fire

From the realm of the dead.

The fist of Hades, the one

Fierce in battle,

Feared and loathed.

His scepter of burning bolts;

His chariot of ebony, narcissus and cypress;

His stallions’ breath of flames.

The rich one spewing forth

Precious rocks and metals

Sculpted as swords and daggers.

Settlements plundered.

Cerberus growls and guards the gates;

Those sacrificed

Avert their eyes.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://buzzhubb.net/incredible-pictures-of-volcanic-eruptions/  (The Chaiten, Chile volcano, which destroyed the town. The eruption lasted from May 2 to May 8, 2008.)

IMG_0515

 

 

Audio · Poem · Poetry

Spared

Spared a winter but not a spring.

Hail thrashes, splitting the wind

Into crystals lit by flashes,

Revealing shadows touching down

Like long fingers pointing curses.

 

My husband, the one-eyed lamp,

In our basement cave,

Checking the radar on his I-phone.

The cats subdued by the growling wind,

Finding refuge under a table by their litter.

 

And I, swathed in a blanket,

Sitting on the porta-potty seat,

Left over from a surgery,

To remain a throne in a storm.

My messages failed to send.

 

Roars diminishing to low growls,

Lightning flails like extinguishing flames,

Thunder stomps like a child wanting attention.

It passes over without forgiving.

New-born daffodils embracing the deluge now strain for morning.

Even storms are gifts.

 

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: Brusheezy (free download)

https://www.brusheezy.com/brushes/1464-lightning-brushes

lightning-brushes