Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Thunder


I hear the thunder
a rumble in the distance
attended by flashes of light,
and rain.

Moving at its own speed
neither slow nor hurried
cleaning and healing and washing,
like rain.

An integral and intimate component
of what lives, and is, and will
following its path and swath, wet
with rain.

Washing my face, smoothing lines
of worry and doubt, and fear,
falling on my hair, washing
with sound and sense and light,
like rain.

Time is not chronology
or a clock
Time is sometimes soft.
often hard, and driving
always cleansing,
 like rain.

This poem is submitted for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.

Photograph: Before the storm by Larisa Larisa via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

13 comments:

  1. No wonder I am so fascinated when a storm rolls in. It taps me like a second hand on the shoulder and says..."this too shall pass, take notice."
    Excellent comparison Glynn.

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  2. Ooo...I love this one, Glynn! Excellent!

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  3. Thunder gives way to lovely reflection on time. I especially like the concept of time being "sometimes soft, / often hard".

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  4. This is stunning Glynn. I love a "gentle" thunder storm. It is all those things you've said so eloquently.

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  5. thunder
    i feel
    the vibrations
    moving through me
    me
    moving through time
    time
    taking me through
    to the other side

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  6. Time is not chronology
    or a clock
    Time is sometimes soft.
    often hard, and driving
    always cleansing,
    like rain.

    excellent close man...it comes in its own time...and when it does..love it...we often look at storms in a negative connotation too...guess we do that with our circumstances at times too eh?

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  7. Time... always cleansing like rain.

    Beautiful!

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  8. I think your words perfectly capture that cleansing...when you can still smell the electricity in the air and the pavement steams before you...just a wonderful share!

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  9. There's nothing quite like the first thunderstorm of spring.

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  10. Rain is a good thing... and we're supposed to have our first season thunderstorm tonight. My heavens... so soon! Nice poem, thinking.

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  11. I love the unusual meter of this poem and also the repetition 'like rain.' Having grown up in England I am aware of what it's like to have one's life grounded in rain; you have done a wonderful job here of describing it's bliss.

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  12. For some people, thunder represents a negative... but here you've presented it in a whole new light... beautiful.

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