The Storm

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    • Sonnet
    • To be set free, but locked away in my own cell of fear

    The Storm

    My hand hovers frozen with disbelief
    Over a clear sea of hidden emotion in which I’m unable to verbalize
    Stuck in a time where i cannot move nor see
    For i know not how to express otherwise what I’m feeling

    A black hole with no hope of light
    On how i can push play to fix my eyes to blink
    And once again mate lightning and thunder
    From the clouds that thicken what I cannot speak

    Taking a walk past what I used to know so well
    As I circle my mentality of all I can’t seem to grasp
    Losing control in the storm that took over
    Disabled and a temporary plea of insanity

    Holding my head up high but smoke fogging my senses
    Trying to understand what went wrong in the process
    Of all that was once a flow in my fingertips
    But now somehow interference has surfaced

    Keeping me from the air that I breathe when all is lost
    Shaking in the midst of the night where no one can hear me
    Wishing I can go back and thaw out the numb
    To reveal the emotion that I’m unable to verbalize

    A radiance seeps through as the storm slowly vanishes
    Enabling me to continue what once slipped away
    An empowering way to speak without saying a word
    The storm is never permanent

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    gregster commented on The Storm

    03-30-2010

    whoa......i like this .its deep and simple at the same time....cool read some of mine if you may GOD BLESS IN JESUS CHRIST NAME AND STAY BREEZY

    jesusfreake commented on The Storm

    03-30-2010

    i love this...i had to think about everything u said in here...ur words are powerful because of the effortless way u used them, they command to be heard and to be adored....and they are, simply because u use them that way...

    Sonnet

    03/31/2010

    it means a lot. thanks!

    Rhymer commented on The Storm

    03-18-2010

    The storm is never permanent well said. 10 from me.

    Sonnet

    03/18/2010

    thank you. greatly appreciated.

    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    Sonnet’s Poems (103)

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