Storm Release

Upon her violent visage

Scars of white froth emerge

Resembling rolling writhing worms

That decay and dissolve again

Into the brine and deepest depths

 

Charcoal clouds pregnant with

Pungent moisture

Release uncountable beads of pearls

To the howling winds; the mistress sea

Will not be subdued by this sacrifice

 

She swallows the downpour over

Swollen lips; it only empowers her

Frustration and fury

Neptune himself, if he pursued her

In an amorous embrace, would surely feel her wrath

 

Only time will be the salve to her wounds

Such as a woman when scorned

Must be given room to rage

Coming too close to energy like this before it has run its course

Will only prove disastrous,leading to any’s demise   

 

Reviews

[@zeewhykay]

wow, blown away !

The alliteration in the 1st paragraph is just simply fascinating. Scratch that, the alliteration in the whole piece is brilliant.

This really gave me hints of a women experiencing with giving birth. The intensity and fury is constant throughout.

"Coming too close to energy like this before it has run its course" and

"Charcoal clouds pregnant with

Pungent moisture

Release uncountable beads of pearls

To the howling winds; the mistress sea

Will not be subdued by this sacrifice "


Sincerely appreciated your poetic schemes !!

[Enigmatic Amor]

I can't add anything that hasn't already been said by other reviewers but I just had to say this is a powerful piece. Your talent is clear. Thank you for sharing.

[cartera]

The rhythm of the sea is kept up by the perfect woird choices that also fit the mood; this is not easy to do. Just wonderful piece of workwomanship. 'Swallowing the downpour over swollen lips' is an image thsat allows the reader to choose her/his own metaphor. Superbe.
Well done.
ATB
Alex.

[Erotic Goddess]

This was incredible. I loved it. I think that you are very talented and that you have created quite a storm of madness here in this piece. Wonderful read.

xxoxx

[Jason]

I believe I have said this before, but your metaphoric use in your art is only parallel to your brilliant vocabulary. Your work takes the most intriguing thoughts and mixes them with the intellegent sound of genius. enjoyable as always...thank you for sharing. this is brilliant.

[Saturn's Lover]

What a wonderful, beautifully eloquent metaphor.

[Titus McGuire]

A remarkable write from a talented writer...you never cease to amaze me with your words. Your ability to depict strong and powerful emotions using the fury of a storm was brilliant and well executed; the description superb. Bravissimi.

[Abd-afeez]

wow! so wonderfully written am so much taken by this. it so much shows emotions, i see much anger and i did felt fear. this is a piece i will give an A rating. this piece symbolise the power of a writers own mind and the strength of his voice. thanks for sharing this.

[Kyle]

And upon frothing waves of the raging sea your mastery of words strikes again. Bravo

[Pax Analog]

Powerful. Impressive is your grrrrapple w/language to corroborate "hell hath no fury."

The channeling, the surfing of such rage-roiled energy is of course an individual call re closeness. Surfing this rage-roil myself carries me to the shores of irony. First, I've often confessed to scorn being my own most consistently strong emotion. Second, Albert Camus, Scorpio existentialist, writing of Absurd Man in his essay on "Sisysphus," re this mythic figure's dealing w/his hapless stone-rolling situation: "There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn." Also: "Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth."

It would seem the roiling rage, the howling fury becomes tempered, hammered into the steel sword of discriminative intelligence. For scorn is no mere failure of good will or love. To love the truth of every living moment, come hell or high water, is to dismiss the superficial rise and fall of programmatic naivete.

And another Scorpio comes to mind, Dylan Thomas: "Do not go gentle into that good night/rage rage against the dying of the light."

What is beautiful is INTENSITY itself. Even scorn amped to rage flips to fierce joy on the razor edge of insight.