The Temporal Tempest of the Mind

A soft breeze disrupts the calm contentment

Of a clear summer sky. The air thickens,

And old bones groan in painful memory,

Of past dark secrets, forgotten evils.

My time draws near

 

Shadow creeps silently from solemn rest,

Night unannounced, challenges the day

Its master's whips of rage scourging,

Each steadily watering the seed of

my invention

 

Silence now, as the chill of truth strikes 

The incipient, arid, indifference.

Its liquid hatred giving shape to a

Terrible, hovering mass, forming from

my doubt

 

A bass rumbling shakes the foundations of

Opposition. Slowly at first, and with

Mounting power, cleansing doom pours from the

Sky. And spears of electric judgment scorch

my fear.

 

As the fourth line comes to bear

The temporal tempest returns

And I've decided

Reviews

[Emily B]

the mystery and suspense . . . leading up to that last clipped line, quite effective

[sfsdfsdfsdf]

I would have to agree with the previous review and reviewer as well. this poem really resonates what the creative process is like. I can relate to it more closely than with other poems because it seems to be describing a wide process such as creavity. I like! Great job! Will look into more of your writings.

[Jobbs]

Excellent! You've captured the creative process in action. I can truly identify with the terrible awesomeness of imagination, and it only seems natural to relate it to as great a force as nature itself. For one is at least as much victim to the very elements as he is to the workings of him own mind. "Spears of electric judgment"...Kudos for the brilliant imagery. Good work, I hope to see many more poems of this caliber.