Mystery Breeze

Freeverse

Sometimes a breeze can be

a pleasurable presence.

It makes the curtains shimmy as

it creeps into my room.

 

They ripple with a twitch and flutter now,

pleasant with a warmish ruffle.

But that breeze becomes a wind,

the curtains wobble, riffle, ripple.

 

Warmth has become wintry:

a wobble and a ruffle bestow

violence now with a blow.

 

Close that window and tell

that gust to go, quit, take leave.

Yes, it does have a name I try not to utter.

(30 Nov 2024)

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Hello Andrew. Your poem made me think of my childhood and the nightmares I suffered. Rattling window panes. I was always scared of the dark, but maybe a grown up would be more scared of illness or even if death. Those are the things that scare me most these days. And then of course there is the rumble of world conflict to contend with. Your poem could also represent the changes in season. Rich in imagery and multifaceted. A finely written poem. Hope you are well.

Chris

[Andrew John]

Many thanks, Chris. It's quite some lime since I posted anything.

[Chris Shaw]

I have been struggling too recently. My muse is being mean. Finding it difficult to write.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

This reminds me of why I wrote "Belonging"---and the chill that burns through the heat of memory.
This hit home...hit that certain place....with a riffle, for sure.
j.