Transitory

As clouds cannot one moment hold their form,
So life moves on through weariness and mirth,
And death is more significant than birth.

The Big Black Storm

Windstorms have battered my life for days, treble the rain,
tintinnabulation on the streets, a highway roaring like a sea of heaves
of grimness, mornings glamsy, murdered pink some dawns, strewn
with hoods and caps and umbrellas, and the grey swallows up
the goldfinches’ wings, the stellar jay sky, it’s hidden somewhere above.

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Storms

Storms have no vows to speak,
refineries of ejecta and longing,
streaked with insurmountable ugliness and beauty –
polarities is what I’m talking about.
The voyeur in love with chastity, the bones unhollow
and growing on skin as hair,
light as a panther walking on the promenade.
It’s all to me, quite riveting.

HAIKU: CLOUD RIDE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

it hits my window

Soldiers

And he blows his head open, because he is in the army; he does not
want to go back. He makes it clear.

I was his friend, when he was alive and in high school.
I am his friend again, now that he is gone and fading.

MOTHER NATURE IS ANGRY

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

I see the dark clouds gathering
ominously warning
the wise to flee
to find shelter
from the coming storm 

Rebuking the Storm

This mother’s heart has been pierced.
“A soft answer turns away wrath.”
The rebuke sits heavily on my ears.

We Shattered Our Faith in the Lightning

From this angle, you say, the Holy Ghost
looks like an ibex, sauntering its way down the slope,
folding paper, in its coal hooves,
slitting the white fish belly
of the mist.

NIGHTTIME’S MISCHIEF

By Charles Robert Lindholm

 

The dark side of the night
storms upon the scene
thrusting swords of light
into the earth 

An Unnatural Storm

A flash of lightning catches my eye.
From steel beams brightness springs
Bringing vibrant, ephemeral life
To the skeleton being constructed
Across the station parking lot.

Blurring Reality

Reflections hidden in the pane

Through the looking glass again

Awaken Me

She walked outside the air sacristy quiet

The sky as black as a devils soul

Bulging heavy and foreboding

Sooty clouds churned and rolled

Buckling with aqueous weight

She hugged herself tight

Memories Evoked

Copyright © 060415 by Karen Payze

 

I look out over the valley
To the mountains
And row
Upon row
Upon row
Upon row
Of prickly needled pines

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Steel overhead
Hiding the evil light,
Angelic tears
Stream down,
Washing the filth

Allowing

Windows open
Allowing
Permeation of odors, grey light,
Rumbles of morning thunder
Exhaled plight

Haiku: Essence

(‘House in Stanlytown Guyana’ by James Mingo, via Fine Arts America. Click to see more.)

Guyanese rainstorm –

Five o’ clock breeze

Skies

 

I often think of that time between May and June,

that time between me and you.

When you made me my very best

and I made myself my very worst.