| This Edition's Poetry |
Falling Asleep During an Approaching Thunderstorm
Tonight I write by lamp and lighting light.
I wish it were candle and lighting,
but lamp and lightning is by what I write.
The thunder is tremendous and it rolls and rolls
far, never ending it seems…
And the lightning;
the lightning is so constant
flash after flash,
becoming sharper and brighter every second
This is special.
This I am blessed to fall asleep to.
The smell of fresh, yet stale and (historical in the memory way)-
the smell of cigarettes in the air.
Silence…
This room and rooms within are all kept hush,
as though hiding from the storm.
I think of a girl
How if things had gone different,
she would be here now but she is not.
And the memories bound by the lingering cigarette smell,
are far greater than those of her.
I was…
I was comfortable making cigarette memories then.
She was but a hope gone with the sin.
The thunder rolls on
The lightning dances, capturing all
silhouettes, shadows, feelings
within ;
as if to say in the thunder;
‘we are here in a greater sense,
take a look at yourselves
and know the bigger reality’
I do not know what I will find when I awake.
Waking seems too far away,
and I do not anticipate it.
But the dreams in between, I know tonight, will be unforgettable.
The thunder again
closer
now rattling the house,
I will sleep in the flashes
The memories in the thunder…
My memories are as real as the approaching storm,
as,
the approaching dreams.
the silence
the thunder
hush
flashes
a storm in the night is approaching
listen…hush…
yes…
the storm,
roll over me, and sleep me well,
or cover me as I slip out the door.
by Ryan Miller
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