Stuff I Wrote While I Was Gone

Here's two poems I wrote while I was away for a week.

Hello Lightning 

Hello, who's there?

It's been long sense I've taken time to care.

Hold on life,

Stop a minute,

Give me time to comprehend it.

A blue light flashed in the sky,

Like a glitching computer, 

Ready to Die.

The flashes flare the clouds silhouette,

"Hello," I say, like to one I just met.

My voice is small,

The words aren't right,

For the breathe taking beauty that lights up the night.

But the lightning is quite, 

It says nothing at all,

Just flashes in silence,

With a silent sort of call.

The wind is saying, "Ssshhh,"

It feels so soft and calm.

I open up my fist, 

Cooling the sweat upon my palm.

Hello, who is there?

It's been long sense I've taken time to care.

I wrote this one on the air plane, on my way home.  I started it when we were in the air, and I finished it just as we hit the ground.

From Stepping Back and Looking Down 

Smaller, smaller,

Yet bigger then ever.

Higher, higher,

The checkered board stretches forever.

Scattered squares of brown and green,

Disappears in white where the edge is unseen.

The cars on the road like little black ants,

Don't know that I'm up here making poetry rants.

The streets look like one had nothing to do,

so with a stick in the dirt, lines he drew.

The dark is the trees,

Jagged patterns in the planes,

Shaped like a claw,

Or the branching of blood veins.

Clouds.

They've been described a hundred times before,

But they're too magnificent for me to ignore.

So soft, but with towering galore.

What keeps you clouds,

Just sitting there?

Moving slow motion,

In the land of thin air?

Looking back down,

What my eyes meet,

The checkered board is gone,

And replaced with a wrinkled sheet.

Could those be the hills,

The mountains I ignore?

From stepping back and looking down,

The world will show you more.

Things appear like monopoly peaces,

Upon the jagged creases.

The shapes appear,

And all the street lines,

Some of the circles are shaped like peace signs,

And some like the scope of a gun.

I don't think they did that on purpose,

But I still think it's kinda fun.

The tires hit ground and we're rolling along,

So I guess that means my poems done.