Storm damage gogyohka

 

The gale brought the dead tree down

where the woodpecker lived

and the dark has come

without the beat of wings

and the cry of someone coming home

Storm coming

 

Cloud piled on cloud

towering

compressing the breathless air below

pressing the sun

below the horizon

waiting for the moon

in gaudy pinks.

White cattle on a green plain

I came across this painting on Wikimedia , Storm on the Great Hortobágy, and found it fascinating. The white long horn cattle, the shaggy Hungarian sheep dog, the great river plain, and…. the sailing ship.

The plain

white speckled with cattle

and the river rolls.

Long horns watch the painter

herd dogs bark

through their corkscrew curls.

Blue sky.

Broad plain speckled with white

and the sky thronged with grey

cloud

storm coming.

Herd dogs bark

long horns raise their heads.

Listen.

Placid plain,

blue sky in the river,

white horns listening and in the distance

thunder.

Herdsmen shatter the placid plain silence

with barked orders

corkscrew curls bounce

dogs weave in and out of white legs

nipping.

River

sky

plain

and white specks of cattle

roll into one single movement

blue

blue

and white light ricocheting

across the placid river plain.

Storm

cattle

the river

and the plain sails on forever.

Sea, turquoise and fuchsia

Sea,

wine-dark,

rolls on drunken waves

from sky to sky

and calls down boiling storm clouds

to drown my tears

in rivers of rain.

*

Voices in the fog,

ghosts of you and me.

I can almost remember

what we used to say,

but not how it felt.

*

It was the last time that we spoke,

and the words bounced back and forth

never taking hold.

I wish I could take those words

and twist them into the shape

of a bird or a rose

and give them to you again.

*

Take a song and sing it soft

to calm a stormy sea,

spread your crow black wings and let

the wind blow you safe back to me.

*

Beyond the humdrum

and the dismal damp

of November light,

sinking into obscurity,

the turquoise and fuchsia

and the flame red

of summer evenings

still sing to conjure up the moon,

and we will walk there

hand in hand beneath the stars.

Tanka Tuesday: Withheld breath

A tanka for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday. The theme words are Calm & Wild.

Night cloud flies, storm-winged,

branches thrash in the wild wind,

waiting for the rain.

Every listening thing is hushed,

I hold my breath as stars fall.

 

Sea bird and storm

Early Saturday morning we were woken by a storm that was obviously making a bee line for our house. After a monumental crack of thunder and simultaneous flash of lightning, we lost power. When it was restored, we found that the internet connection was burnt out. We’re still waiting to be reconnected but in the interim have been loaned a gadget that hooks us up via wifi.  No internet meant lots of writing, so here’s a haibun just to say, I’m back!

Sea bird, with worlds of ocean in yellow eyes, hangs in the stormy air between grey cloud and grey waves. Is it tomorrow it sees beyond the darkness, a limpid blue, sculpted sea mists and foam? Is that water titan, those twisted muscles of alien element, a maternal cradle to one whose eyes are filled with sunlight and the glint of silver fish scales caught in the moving depths? I hold out my hand to the wind and catch a breath of salt. The titan whispers, there is peace in this tumult. Listen to the laughter of the gull.

 

Rain in torrents pours—

the sharp snap of thunder-thread

breaking blinds my eyes.

Storm’s coming

For the dverse quadrille prompt. The theme is ‘storm’.

Sky is hushed, still,

filled with heat haze,

days when no winds blow,

no breath of breeze,

trees hang limp-leafed, birdless,

wordless songs from the river

shiver in the restless light.

Bright sun sinks in the west—

best close the door,

for storm’s coming.