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by
Charles B. Neff
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Heavy clouds clotted Puget Sound as the wind picked up. Whitecaps grew in size and number, racing each other across the surface. A perfect afternoon for reading. I opened my book, but the wind demanded attention as It grew in ferocity. The wood-frame house groaned in acknowledgment. Soon I couldn't concentrate on the words, yet, in a strange way, it wasn't the noise I heard. It was something else; and I tried to capture it in this poem.
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A wild wind
Makes the timbers its persussion
And the house dances in the din.
Thunderous sounds cancel thoughts
That clamored in me moments ago.
I sit and muse and dream
Leaf my book without absorbtion
Become the ear of the storm
Finally able to hear
Whisperings in my heart.
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| Reviewed by Lois Christensen |
6/16/2008 |
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| Storms show us what we can take and not take. Some are afraid of them, I am not. They bring refreshing renewal to me. I can hear the whisperings in my heart when I stop to enjoy a storm too. Glad you could take time out to just think like this while the storm was approaching. You are very much aware of nature and its tellings. |
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| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
6/16/2008 |
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| Excellent, Charles. The road to a whispering heart is through the storm. - gene. |
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| Reviewed by Gwen Dickerson |
7/4/2005 |
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| Ahhh, insightful attunement! Well done! |
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| Reviewed by jude forese |
7/4/2005 |
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| interesting perspective ... i like this ... |
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