Silence the Storm

by ray phillips - Not entered

Silence the Storm
8 February 1999

I hear them talking, laughing, taunting,
haunting my head with thoughts, fears,
hypocrisy abounding, transforming
what once was peace but now is warring
inside; crying, screaming, kicking
fighting for a chance to silence the storm
whose gales wale like the ghost in my mind.

Once they were off in the distance;
in the background, off to the side, never
so near, up front, center stage.
Seeking adoration, demanding strict 
attention, thriving on stares.

When did they emerge champion
by punching below the belt
line has been drawn in the sand
of the shore in the bellows of my yellow
mind no more my own, yet don't test
for I may surprise you with love.

But not real love for real love means never
questioning, never judging, never giving 
up when all you want to do in this world is 
stop the race, call a time-out, take a mulligan. 
But I can't give you what you need 
you see, the storm is gaining power, getting 
stronger, momentum rising with the falling 
temperature inside my soul.  First I must
silence the storm.

Reason for writing:

    writer's block
    

Birth sign: Not entered
Date created: 1999-02-08 22:57:35
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:40:53
Poem ID: 51747

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