Thursday, 18 February 2016

Before The Coming Storm (February 18, 2016)

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Like tumbleweeds
Blowing across
The semi-arid landscape
Of the southwestern
United States.

My mind is devoid
Of any rational thought
As the mental winds
Brush away
Any possible idea.

Leaving behind
A barren soulscape.

Awaiting
The gentle
And nurturing touch
Of a poetic shower.

Never have
Experiencing it
By my soul
Or body.

The type
One sees
In the distant
Mountainous horizon.

As a moving curtain
Darkening
The nearby sky.

Renewing life
Once more
With a tender kiss
On the cracked lips
Of one's soul.

Bringing life
To the once wasteland
As words blossom
All around me
Once more.


Therisa © 2016


Author's note: For the past 48 hours, I have been struggling with writer's block, am hoping this poem has lifted this burden, from my shoulders.


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26 comments:

  1. Therisa, it really is wonderful when words blossom on what had been a wasteland, isn't it? I like your comparison between the semi-arid part of the United States, which is OFTEN barren, but when it blooms it is absolutely stunning. Same with poetry, don't you think. Sometimes out of the barren landscape of our mind arises beautiful poetry!

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  2. Thank you, very much, Mary. It felt just right, as I writing this out, which is very important to me, as intuitive writer.

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    Replies
    1. You sure DID shake your writer's block. Smiles.

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    2. For now. Like everything, it comes and goes, in cycles.

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  3. I agree, such a beautiful close on this poem :)

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  4. Thank you, Sanaa, for your generous comment. Had thought, of using the concrete canyons of Toronto, as a metaphor, but it didn't feel right, to me.

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  5. I so remember the year I spent in the desert landscape.. and I also remember the spring rains and how the desert bloomed... How wonderful if words can do the same :-)

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  6. Indeed, Brudburg, given most of us, have experienced the negative side that people have used words, as weapons of pain and hurt. The person, who makes this discovery, should be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature and Medicine.

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  7. This looks like my backyard. In fact, I know I have been to this very same spot. Good to see your words flowing again!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Timoteo, for your kind words. I do hope your backyard is, in better shape.

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  8. This is such a wonderful metaphor for inspiration...all the more so as I look out my window over the California desert and see the Santa Rosa mountains. I love this part of the world. Google isn't letting me publish unless I use my defunct blog. I am at http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Victoria. Almost deleted this poem, as I was struggling with writing a final stanza, which would tie up, the poem.

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  9. I particular like this part:

    Awaiting
    The gentle
    And nurturing touch
    Of a poetic shower.

    Such a vivid contrast to the barren land ~

    Grace

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Scarlet. One of my intuitive stanzas that felt just right, as I wrote it out.

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  10. I really like this stanza:
    "Awaiting
    The gentle
    And nurturing touch
    Of a poetic shower."

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  11. words blossom - yes, but those arid days perhaps are for observing, gathering information, experiences. ;)

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    Replies
    1. That's one way of looking at things, Margaret. Myself, I never know, when my Muse is going to speak to me.

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  12. I know this feeling, so well:
    Awaiting
    "The gentle
    And nurturing touch
    Of a poetic shower."

    Well done.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, De. Some days, I can't keep up, with the words, as they flow, like the mighty river, and other days, it's like this.

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  13. Love the analogy here.
    Even on the driest days, the southwest always finds a way to inspire.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Mishunderstood. Would you believe it, but the closest, I have come to the southwest, is the badlands of southern Alberta and northern North Dakota.

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  14. Free dance
    soUl
    alWays open..:)

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  15. I really hate when my muse takes off and leaves me wanting for words...and it happens.

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