riding storms

We rode storms, under stars

In mountain meadows bubble wrapped

On top self bunk bed quaking the room

But it was the tropical palapa bed

Riding a flashing memorable storm

We rode and hour or more, we harvested

At the last lightening bolt 

We rode storms

Your high inside fast ball

The vase my mother gifted

My books at me and an open window

You had beautiful arms

I got your message

But you took me back

I couldn’t give up that strange pleasure

Me in my shell rocking and rolling…  your body

Your body blows penetrating my ribs and heart

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

Ah such memories of the past, when nothing, not even storms, bothers you because you're in a bubble of love; but then something happens and you are sad; though a sudden breakthrough of passion ( in your mind)
remembering family and the happenings of storms. Some upbeat, some low beat here, but so well constructed to be on extreme interest.
Best, B.

[albee]

The bubble, yes, it is the nature of life to be bubble wrapped in our construct of our lives…🙏

[Marina]

This one makes me think of all the times i was disciplined in my childhood; I had many an encounter with a shiny black belt and there was sure nothing pleasurable about that! I did learn my lessons, though! Quite an interesting premise here, albee. The image of rocking and rolling like a protective armadillo came to my mind. 💛

[albee]

I feel therefore I Am…
sensation is our circumference
Ouroboros continuum of pleasure pain and all those around...In libido’s subterranean realm, the universe is a circle.

I raise my cup of libation to you, your words, your resonance, your poem that took me to that night, singing our eulogies around a piano, a wonderful drunken wake. There are the places I found in your poem…”places had their moments with lovers and friends,…some are dead, and some are living…i love then alll…”

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

Pleasure and pain felt so synonymous here. Love can be such a killer sometimes.

[albee]

like the ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail...pleasure and pain are on a continuum...in some places in the domain of love they become fused...thank you for witnessing my raw personal poetry

[Dhara_Ditzy Kat]

It was a great read for me. I thrive on such outstanding thoughts

[barleygirl]

This poem is all those things you mention in your first review (by you) . . . "lanced a lesion . . . rich in effluvia" . . . the trick is to continue writing your poem until you get it all out, so you don't have to add some of the richest stuff to an afterthought buried in the reviews where people might not even read it! I love this poem, don't get me wrong . . . it feels complete just the way it is, powerful & expressive & relatable. It's just that you're showing us so much more that so well-expressed, it should also be part of your poem. Just my opinion! The poem feels like it's breathless & spontaneous & a little bit scrambly, not an always-flowing read, whereas your note in the reviews is solid, complete, & powerfully-expressed (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[albee]

I see…what you reflect. I see you say here that I splatter my palette all over the floor and walls of this cafe. I’ve sensed it all my life, this splatter approach to my linguistic sapien, some where on that continuum-syndromes’ brain. I am beginning to see my life in a new light, at this time of shelter in place…my poetry is raw…always has been. I just started writing again after a couple of decades or more hiatus. The epidemic pushes me over the cliff of retirement. With too much free time, the loss of stimulating face to face communication, memories have become compelling and imperative to explore with words…I have always been tickled, fascinated, exhilarated and embarrassed with some of my improvisational word flow in speech, to others. It has always been the honing and finishing, the framing and nailing to the wall that has always stymied me and my walled in poetry…my poetry is process…I am poor at product…

Thank you Barley G. for your earthly insight into my poem…your light helps me shine my light on this path…

[barleygirl]

You say: "I have always been tickled, fascinated, exhilarated and embarrassed with some of my improvisational word flow in speech, to others."

All my life, I was also hyper-aware of how what I was saying would come across to others. Then I got old & stopped caring. That's when my writing took off.

[albee]

one of the points of wisdom, when one reaches a certain age, I have come to believe, is shedding the body wraps of self image we carry onto the stage of life, to show up to our peers...to cast those trappings to the winds with ease...is wisdom I believe...I raise a cup of libation to thee...barley.g

[albee]

this lanced a lesion...memories rich in its effluvia...
love, ecstasy, lust, sorrow, shame ...and ubiquitous chunks of pain...in my youth I was a fool for love and lust...

there is a biblical quote I had hear...found it once in a classical King James...

as a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool to his folly

[Chris Shaw]

My heart dropped. I felt those body blows. Powerful write.

Chris