The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

ISSN 2249 2178

 

Volume-3                                                      DECEMBER -2013                                           Number-2

 

Thunderstorms

 by Alyssa Cooper

You

are a thunderstorm,

static building in all

my limbs,

a crackling crash of power

pumping

through my veins.

 

Blinding rain

and deafening wind,

you are pure instinct,

pure sound -

the cool touch of moisture

in a barren

landscape.

 

A child of the wild,

born

of the clouds.

I turn my face

to the sky,

and I wait for the fall

of your clear,

soothing

waters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sun Dogs

 by Alyssa Cooper

 

She takes so much joy

in the simplest

of things.

In sun dogs,

and lightning bugs,

and the gradual shift

of trees

    into flames.

 

She splits her face with

a smile,

with the opalescent sheen

    of teeth,

gathering flower petals like

confetti,

and threading her hair

with willow whips.

 

She cries out

    in glory,

as she clutches the hearts

of tiny

living

things

to her chest.