A Weary Passenger
The moment he walks through the door, I know
arousal isn't always sexual,
more often it partners with animosity;
a cumulus cloud gathering force
with every perceived injustice.
Uninhibited alcohol fuels this jet,
instability hovers, careens into
violence, cumulonimbus like.
I dare not look toward his thunder,
knowing it will dissipate quickly,
beg forgiveness of me,
a weary passenger.
I try and soar above, ride out
another night, another flight.
Hope my eyes will witness
morning's slivered moon,
gentle light, proof I survived.
by Margaret Bednar, Art Happens 365, July 7, 2012
Check this out on Chirbit
This is for dVerse Poetics" Whatever the Weather - hosted by Stu Mcpherson. Many choices were given for us to use "weather" and I chose one that uses it metaphorically. I fear my attempt is a bit weak, but I know that if you follow the link, you will find many fine pieces of poetry that do this challenge justice!
I am experimenting with recording my poetry. In the middle of this, you can hear my children trying to be quiet. I glanced over after saying the word "sexual" and almost lost it as my 10 year old daughter mouthed "yuck". ha ha
AND!!! Most importantly, I must put a disclaimer here for my sweet husband's sake :) This is totally in response to the challenge and photo... not any personal experience on my part.