...On Poetry and Fiction – Just “One Word” Away (Wind)

http://spillwords.com/author/phyllispcolucci/      

https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-P.-Colucci/e/B00VMU8B44

 

 

                       

            One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”. Today my one word is “Wind”.

 

                                                              WIND

           That notorious force will hit upon you with such strength that you may think someone is after you. It will push you, pull you, tear at your clothes, and send your hair flying in knots. You will hold your coat down, pull your hair back, wipe the tears from your eyes, and run home as quickly as you can. It will whistle, it will howl, and swirl you about, as you struggle to remain on your feet. Just keep running, get out of its way and head straight for your front door. Leave it behind as you enter your house – and just know it was simply the “Wind”.

        

      

                         WIND

Whistling, howling, swirling through

His meandering fingers violating you

He blows into your ear and taps upon your nose

Then harshly whispers of life’s pleasures and woes

 

He messes your hair with both love and lust

He shoves you fiercely with an almighty thrust

You aim to outrun his prowling charm

As he kisses you with his chilling calm

 

He captures you ‘neath the sun’s soft glow

While your footsteps ease, upon the fallen snow

You lose your step and fall to your knees

He toys with you wildly, under watchful trees

 

He possesses you with his clever embrace

You fight to see this predator’s face

But your eyes are blind to this obscured force

Who straddles you mightily, with no remorse

 

You rise to your feet, disheveled and cold

He tears at your clothes; pulls at every fold

Your hood is dangling in disarray

You run in fright, but can’t get away

 

Cars are passing, throngs of people laughing

You wonder why no one offers a hand

You keep on running, for he is quite cunning

He is Huge, he is Dominant and enticingly Grand

 

You turn ‘round to see him, with every step

But he is surely nowhere, e’er to be found

Yet he tugs at your arm, and pulls at your hair

And, once again, forces you to the solid, hard ground

 

Your shoes fall off, but you care not

For your home can be seen down the path

You make a “marathon run” for your lovely front door

As he is now caught up in YOUR vengeful wrath

 

So barefoot are you, as you reach your abode

The home fires burning inside

The ice on the ground stings your bare feet

But you are safe while he runs off to hide

 

You slip your key in your “home-sweet-home” door

Your poor knees - they are painfully skinned

Embarrassed – you smile, hiding your shame

For “HE” was simply the notorious Wind…