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Erin E Kelly-Moen

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Member Since: Oct, 2002

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From The Convent to the Rawhide: The Saga of Sadie Cade and
by Sage Sweetwater

Sweetwater's Mormon-based LDS faith Western film adapted from her book to screen filming October 2015...  
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The hushness was full of faded, rumbling echos
ears are attuned to the faintest whisper of advance.
Stillness spreads to the trees, the birds, the insects,
waiting uneasily for gentle rain or shocking savage drowning.
With drums varying measures, vibrations and tones
the far thunder comes in low sound waves that tickle the skin.
A fly-by of scented errant breeze thrills the sense center,
vision is captured by the coarsness of dark, sheep's-coat clouds
ponderous and plentiful, throwing their sun-flared jagged bolts
into my heart and soul.

The quiver starts in a small wave, gathering it's skirts of heavy chaos
immutabley moving the thick dry air to it's triangular fore.
Lightness of wind-touch turns into sudden push of tottering unbalance.
A burgeoning weight starts the frantic movement of branches and hair
that begin striving to flee the rage that is coming from the gravid air.
Standing so small in front of this vast earth-eater, fire-starter, life-taker
are my body and soul.

Cracks of greater clarity deafen, and strobe-eyed from horrible energy
the pressure builds, twisting thoughts of security into despair.
Manuvering to encircle, the height of weight is about to collapse
onto the cringing earth, maleable and ripe for uncaring rearrangement
shivering in fear and howling in primal anguished hysteria as
the world becomes nothing but violence and agitation, swift-blowed and hammering
to the core of my soul.

The orgasmic sensations of earthly, angry fury and whipping water bullets,
tornadic gusts from right angles and squashing down thrusts, stream
through pourous fiber of skin, energizing to pulsating estacy
the frailness of life's gift, the yearning to be noticed by such a power
to actually be alive-aware, vast and dangerous,
reaching to fulfill my fantastic climatic path,
to fully know the life-force and feelings of
the thunderstorm soul.

Erin Moen

Or, the short, acrostic version of Thunderstorms:

Thunderstorms bring
Hammering winds blowing fiercely
Under boiling billowing clouds with
Nowhere to hide from slanting rain,
Destruction is flung wide while
Energy is savagely dispersed in
Rampaging reaving fury, leaving me
Strobe-eyed from lightning as
Thunder claps deafen my mind and
Ominous darkness of sky
Reveals much longed for
Monsoon's ferocious
Start to dry desert death.

Erin Moen
Photo by Erin Moen


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Reviewed by SilverCeltic Moon
Great vivid portral of a storm! Outstanding. ;) Silver
Reviewed by Steve Reichard (Reader)
Awesome poem with such fantastic imagery:) such a joy to read and I also would like to thank you for the kind comments you left me on my new Fish food poem and I like your idea for a follow up to it too:)
Reviewed by The Voice (Reader)
Very well done.

The Voice
Reviewed by jude forese
very unique imagery describing the intensity of a thinderstorm... well done!
Reviewed by Dale Clark
I miss summer already. We heard thunder in a snow storm the other night, quite rare!
Reviewed by E T Waldron
An ambitious undertaking successfully accomplished...superp writing!
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
outstanding write, erin! love, your friend, karen lynn. (((HUGS))) :)
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
excellent writes, erin! living in texas, i've seen plenty of storms...this describes them perfectly. (((HUGS))) and love, karla. :)
Reviewed by shannon Smith (Reader)
great job
Reviewed by David Leigh (Reader)
"sheep's-coat clouds" I like this line. Erin I love the crescendo from the gentle utterings to the full fury. Beautiful.
Reviewed by Ted Sheridan (Reader)
Desert death and the renewal of life, nice
Reviewed by Roger Ochs
A wonderful twofer.
Reviewed by Lisa Hilbers
Erin, Both forms of this is breathtaking! A poet with an insight to storms in life, a need to be a great writer! Great job,,Lisa
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The Ghost Of Kaiser Rock by Hank LeGrand

Living in the country was wonderful for Little Henry. He loved riding his bicycle on the dirt roads, but he should never have ridden it in the dark.....  
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