Beauty Felled

Maple leaf - watercolor pencil on travertine tile.

Maple leaf – watercolor pencil on travertine tile.

photo 2 - Copy (2)

Watercolor pencil and ink on travertine tile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garnets, rubies, citrine,
Forest’s crown jewels,
Boasting brilliance.
Beauty dazzles.

Softly surrendering,
Silently drifting,
Smothering.
Beauty fades.

Withered, weathered,
Wind-whipped,
Tossed, tumbled.
Beauty weeps.

Scattered sacrifices,
Last proof of life,
Imprints on sidewalk.
Leaves lament.

Crisp, crunchy.
Rakes eradicate,
Mowers mutilate.
We weep.

Lynn McHale Nov. 16, 2013 Copyright All Rights Reserved

 

Stuck on the Weather Channel

Thunderstorm Watch

Thunderstorm Watch

Again, I am glued to the Weather Channel,
Like an annoying gnat stuck to fly paper,
Sucked in, inescapable,
Yellow glue so indestructible.

Clouds give rise,
Paper dries,
Both captives,
One dies, one lives.

Fate or curse?
Which death is worse?
A thousand deaths from weather worry,
Or a sticky kind in a hurry?

I doubt I will survive.
But, if I do survive,
I might walk away,
But I will not be alive!

Lynn McHale May 30, 2013 Copyright All Rights Reserved

Note: As you can tell, bad weather freaks me out!

 

 

 

The Storm Dreader

Midwest Storm Clouds

It’s late, it’s storming,
Thunder, lightning,
Intermittent wind gusts,
Please just end, just end, just…

I will always be afraid.
Skies blacken, dark clouds invade.
Raindrops become pellets,
Assaulting like jets.

Too terrified to sleep,
Look out window, take a peep.
Pace through the house, look north, then west,
Steal a few glances, cannot rest.

At attention, like a sentinel,
Waiting for “all clear” signal.
All my senses on high alert,
Although my body feels inert.

What time is it? Has it passed?
How much longer can it last?
Want to close my eyes, have to sleep,
If I do, from bed I might leap!

Did I just hear the siren?
Wish the AC wasn’t on.
Did I imagine hearing it?
Why isn’t that NOAA lit?

Loud sounds clashing,
Winds roar, rain slashing.
Sounds attack my equilibrium.
I listen, don’t breathe, lose momentum.

Thank God the AC stopped running,
Only hear raindrops falling.
What time is it? Has it passed?
I think it’s over, finally at last!

Thunder returns.
My stomach churns.
Fast forward through dark minutes and hours,
If I was Zeus, I’d summon my powers!

Lynn McHale May 20, 2013 Copyright All Rights Reserved

Note:  I am very afraid of the storms we get in the Midwest.  I actually wrote this poem as a bad storm was happening real time.

NOAA stands for National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration.  You can buy devices that NOAA will broadcast weather alerts for tornadoes, flash flooding,

and other weather conditions.  You program your area into the device so information is specific to your local area.  It’s a great thing to have during storms.

Mother Nature is a Terrorist

Must be on constant watch for her!
Disguises herself as man or woman,
Changes name to suit her temperament,
Never uses her “favorites” again.

She changed the course of history.
Permanently altered coastlines.
Made front page news.
Closed down Wall Street

Strategically positions cells on map.
Relentless, organized, elusive,
Ever erupting, weather vane, volatile.
Formidable, fueled with enduring fury.

Targets where ever and what ever pleases her,
Strikes without warning, although tracked on radar,
Rains down utter destruction.
There is no escape.

Relies on strong formations,
Masses along ridges,
Columns of storm clouds.
Wages lightning war.

She makes dust swirl,
Clouds rotate, winds shear,
Glaciers melt, oceans overflow,
Earth shake.

She spews, chokes, poisons,
Hails, freezes, floods,
Scorches, parches, burns,
Causes death and despair.

She lurks in the Alley,
Lays siege to the Heartland,
Obliterates towns and lives,
Scars the earth in her path.

Uses rotation as weapon of mass destruction,
Thunder and lightning as scare tactics,
Causes outbreak of fear and panic.
Stuns with shock and awe.

She is amused when they try to fight back,
Digging their firewalls and filling their sandbags,
Hiding in their basements, and “hunkering down”.
Those who chase and get too close, she exacts revenge!

Always plotting next strike.
Warnings issued,
Complacency settles in,
They let down their guard.

She waits.
She strikes.
There is no defense.
She takes no prisoners.

Lynn McHale 7/9/13 Copyright All Rights Reserved

White Weather

winter

I hate the way the wind blows,
Especially when driving snows
Scream sideways at bent-over trees
Bringing humanity to its knees.

I hate the way the wind howls,
Never phasing wide-eyed owls
As they perch high atop the chimneys
Watching so cautiously, you and me.

Beneath those wide watchful eyes,
We shovel under darkened skies.
One owl hoots, then the other,
Snowflakes swirl, softly smother.

They keep us company as we clear.
The pair at a distance, never near.
We are separate, but together,
Inhabitants sharing white weather.

Lynn McHale 4/15/13 Copyright All Rights Reserved