7. Thunderstorms

I don't like this one. :( I just have nothing better. I wrote this at the end of July, but nothing has better has come. So here is number 7. 

Thunderstorm

8/29/11

When the storm is coming

I can feel it in the air.

The breath in my lungs turns sour

With the heat drumming into the day.

The sunlight secretes humidity,

So I require gills to breathe.

It grasps at my hair and pulls it around,

And sticks to my furrowed brow.

And it takes me around the throat,

And forces me to lie still on the earth,

As the anger of Nature fills up the sky

And builds its potential rage.

And then it all falls,

First the pressure, then the rain.

And the wind makes its way

As the thunderstorm breaks.

6. Cold Mountain, North Carolina

Hello again!

This poem is not really about Cold Mountain, North Carolina because I have never been there. However, I did a lot of research about the place and determined that it was a lot like the mountains that I am currently residing in, which would be the Blue Ridge mountains around Goshen, Virginia. So this poem was truly inspired by Goshen, though I did throw in a mention to Cold Mountain. (See if you catch it. :) )

I'm not sure how I feel about this poem, but I don't know how to make it better. So please enjoy it and leave a good critique.

Cold Mountain

8/2/2011

The trees here echo

With the cacophony

Of ten thousand cicadas

And locusts.

The world is lush and green,

And scorching hot in the summer,

Despite the ironic name.

And I drip from moments

Like dew dousing the leaves,

Settling in the heat of the day.

I pull the stars over me at night

To keep myself warm from darkness,

And fall asleep to the Whip-poor-wills.

And my sigh will rustle leaves,

As I breathe deep the musty decay

That accompanies rotting foliage.

And I will piece myself together

In the reflection of rain-stained pools,

As I contemplate my mountain,

And what it is I hide.