Raindrops spatter spring leaves and dampen the forest floor,
Lightning flashes precede the echo of a thunderous boom,
Raging storms unleash the piquant aroma of petrichor,
Stirring memories of eternal love of one adored,
Swirling clouds shroud visage of vibrant groom,
Swept far away to sea from ocean shore,
Etched deeply into the wizened face of local lore,
Romance consigned to the depths of yon watery tomb,
Written in lines penned by twist of fate lost in yore,
An epic tale of tragedy and triumph lies in store,
Woven into a life tapestry by time's merciless loom,
Captured beautifully in dance to nature's musical score,
Whispering breezes softly heard through open door,
Shadows sway and bounce throughout the room,
In light of moon beams blocked by clouds no more,
Lover's once tight embrace by fate too soon tore,
Soaring spirit condemned to lonely gloom,
By oaths and spells bitter rivals once swore,
Raging storm unleashed by piquant aroma of petrichor.
Thomas Durbin
copyright Durbin 2023
About the Creator
Thomas Durbin
Raised in rural east-central Illinois, I appreciate nature and the environment. I'm a professional engineer-scientist, poet, stoic, minimalist, conservationist, inventor, costumer, historian, traveler, volunteer, and author.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Keep reading
More stories from Thomas Durbin and writers in Poets and other communities.
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (2)
This was sooooo beautifully written! Loved your poem!
Lured in by your title I stayed and thoroughly enjoyed this piece!