Often it seems that the clouds are in a war to compete for the sky.
WAR OF THE CLOUDS/ by Margaret A. Gatchel /
Clouds, Rolling lazily/
Across a bright sapphire sky/
Changing/
Into nostalgic shapes,/
Frolicking playfully,/
They touch each other/
As in a slow dance/
Then, shyly reach for another partner/
Clouds/
Dark and brooding/
Spiteful kin to their playful cousins/
They display Their strength/
In heavy-laden mastery/
They wait—timing is essential—/
As they perfect the darkness/
Beneath their bulk/
All is quiet…./
Suddenly/
They release their torrents of/
Cold, piercing wind and water/
In needle sharp pelts,/
Slapping and pitting/
Into the parched /
Earth/
Determined to leave the audience/
Awestruck,/
They empty their burdens /
With the fiercest of might/
Flooding the lakes, and streams/
Mercilessly/
they beat down /
the planted fields/
Forcing the leaves to /
surrender and bow /
Pounding in full tantrum/
Upon nature/
Clouds,/
Rudely pushed aside/
by their joyful, dancing cousins/
Like a heavy velvet curtain /
On a stage/
Resentful,/
Reluctant to be quieted/
They reveal just a sliver/
Of fluttering light /
From behind their darkness/
The light appears like fireflies/
Upon the new swell/
Of running waters/
Along the roadways, lawns,/
Wheat fields and barns/
Shafts of light cut through branches /
To rest upon the clearings/
Wildlife emerge/
from protective frond and fern/
Light increases/
Into an angelic glow/
Wildflowers stretch their necks/
To bathe/
Their open faces /
Full to the sun/
Clouds; angry cousins/
Brooding ominously backstage/
Patient /
In their stubbornness/
Jealous witness/
To their cousins delight/
Contemplating/
On their next stage call/
The director’s hand /
Has not yet beckoned them/
Their resolve deepens, to frenzy /
The next act will be their most powerful/
Their strength/
Is almost uncontainable,/
They will wait—/
In silent anticipation /
For their /
Final encore/
The sun smirks as he chuckles softly /
He watches the war of wills--Unshaken; /
He has been set in the heavens/
as a lasting entity/
He/
will forever /
Be the ultimate/
victor/
I am much impressed by the images that spring from your poem. Each day I go out for a little sun and it seems like the clouds win some days. As I watch them, they mostly pass by very slowly and gradually change shape. But when they become agitated and start to consume one another, and they become quite fascinating to watch. You're right about the sun. It is certainly a steady customer and can banish clouds. But yesterday we had a front come through and it got very dark, almost night like, canceling the sun. And then, after a brief violent rain, finger lightning lit up the sky for the next two hours. A light show I had not seen in a long time.
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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