June 22

This poem came out of a great night. From about one to two in the morning, there was a huge thunderstorm over my place. It was amazing. Haven’t done it justice, but this is as close as I could get. Nobody on the road, nobody out walking, just me communing with nature even in the city. Awesome.

June 22

Tonight,
The leaves are talking in their sleep
While raindrops soothe their slumber
And lightning promises vengeance
On the wind that disturbed them.

Now,
The storm begins in earnest
Thunder speaks in tongues over rooftops
Torrents of water drench the cracking pavement.

And I,
The weary traveller, crouch
In narrow doorways to watch
The many-textured sky split
By light, by sound, in solitude.

Life-
This is feeling alive!
In the midst of summer’s first downpour
I breathe raindrops, wet earth and thunder
My heartbeat the only reminder
That I am not cloud, or water, or earth
Or the tumultuous sky above.

Once more,
My page is lit by blue flashes
As I shield my notebook from the rain
And wonder at the fierce beauty around me.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Sorry I haven’t been around much. Stuff going on. Life happens.

Gasp! Another two-fer!

This poem was brought to you by the letter I. And inspired by Writer’s Island.

Incomparable

Indomitably idealistic,
I idolized her intellect.
Incomparable to the idiots
Ignoring ideas for industry,
I sat irritably idle while my
Iconoclastic ingenue
Irrigated iron minds,
Impelling them to interchange
Instinct for inductive reasoning.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

But wait! There’s more. This is kind of a response to this poem.

don’t know if this is senryu or haiku or just fun

relief comes pouring
in cool torrents from the sky
breaking the heat’s back

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Thank goodness for today’s thunderstorm. I love watching them, hearing them, smelling them- the whole experience.

Both short and sweet. Let me know what you think! And if you know what I should be calling that haiku-senryu-thingy, help a sister out 🙂

Storm

Not much to say on this one.

Storm

The wind is fierce tonight, she says.
Yes, the wind howls like a banshee
Tears dying leaves from the trees
Bends their branches like fingers
Grasping the edge of a cliff before slipping
Down into a vortex of river rapids-

Do you think we should close the curtains?
No, it makes no difference open or closed
The wind will prowl outside the house
Closing our eyes to it won’t make it disappear
It will just catch us off-guard when it strikes
Bites hard at the throat like a hungry wolf-

I’m going to bed dear it’s late, she says.
Fine, I’ll get little sleep tonight either way
The tick-tock of a sleepy clock marks time
While a fire crackles blithely on the hearth
I’ll find a mark on the wall to occupy my mind
So I won’t dwell on the storm that rages outside.

© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2011.

August 20

August 20

the atmosphere is oppressive
weighing the world down
with clouds of words
synonyms for pity

tornado warning for the area
but the sky is
a perfect shade of purple
just enough green-grey
to make things
that much more interesting

a cloud wraps around my arm
dragging down my sleeve
while beer cries
drink me drink deep
and whiskey
sings a drunken lullaby

that oppressive atmosphere
lifts a sodden arm
jubilation jubilation
take comfort in a friend
of a friend or a stranger
not as though the world is empty

as I fall asleep on a couch
the rain tap-dances
on my consciousness and
a closed window
the storm will pass so
light may come again

hailstorms hurricanes blizzards
a whirligig of creatures in the night
hold onto your umbrellas friends
it’s a rough night for the wicked.

© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2011.

Wrote this a while back, as you may have noticed from the year listed. Headache is kicking my ass. I took some crap for it, which worked for a little while. Not even a dark quiet cool place has helped. If an ice pack and more ibuprofen doesn’t help, I’m out of ideas.