Summer Storm

Thought I would share one of my poems today. I was remembering the kind of storms from when I was a kid back in East Texas and decided to pen this little poem.

A confession, I tried to add a link for this poem but since I’m technologically challenged I was unsuccessful. I will have to have some of my young friends show me how.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my word play.

Summer Storm

Sky’s gettin’ dark like a bad attitude;

“Clouds rumblin’ and grumblin’

Getting in the mood.

Lightnin’ flashes getting mighty close;

Wind whippin’ and twistin’

Getting’ ready for the show.

Raindrops play a staccato tune;

“Maybe she’ll blow by,”

But I spoke too soon.

Rain starts gentle but it doesn’t last;

Hail comes callin’

With a mighty blast.

Wind keeps tearin’ at my tired old shack;

Barely past noon,

But the sky’s sure black.

Wind gets stronger — I hear a tree go;

Mean old storm

Takes out my window.

Floor’s gettin’ wet where the window broke;

If the rain keeps comin’

I’m gonna need me a boat.

Darn tin roof — can’t hear a thing;

Hail finally stops,

What relief that brings.

Storm lets up in an hour or so;

Dirt floor’s muddy,

But what a light show.

I’ll check out the damage when I get my breath;

Don’t mind admittin’

I was scared to death.

Big old storm, little bitty me;

And darn it all,

Lost my favorite tree.

Now storms is fine — we need the rain;

But a little less storm

Would be a nice thing.

Deane E. Carter

May 21, 2008

Categories: Writing | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “Summer Storm

  1. Maurice Newport

    Yes, Smoke! Storms in Phoenix always seem to be such a surprise. Raja and something else were fighting during the middle of the storm. There was a sheet of water between Raja and whatever he was screaming at. As soon as I opened the back door, he turned around and ran inside. I never saw the antagonist. Anyway, you motivated me…

    The wind howls while the rain fights her with tiny fingers,
    My mind chasing those desperate shadows so badly cast
    By Moonlight’s coldly hollow gaze
    Through frantic trees and dancing ribbons of black, prismic rain.

    Cats do their work as night time plays its Game of Chance,
    Invoking Laws of Death and Life in silent screams-
    If I should sleep, will I see dawn come morning’s gleam,
    Or am I just to be the stuff of other’s dreams?

  2. Renee

    Have to share with you my memories of storms in MN while I was growing up. We lived on a farm and our house was a big two story, as where most farm houses in those days. The house was nice, but we had a dirt basement that looked like it had been dug out after the house was built. To make matters worse, when you reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a large hole in the wall that enabled you to see the black nothingness going under another portion of the house. My brother and I were both scared to death to go down to the basement, as who knew what was lurking in the “black hole.” My mother, being a good farm wife, canned a lot of garden produce and meat, and would send either Jeff or I to fetch these things from the basement. Living in MN, storms seem to come out of the southwest, so my mom would always keep an eye on those clouds, and if she or my dad deemed it necessary, we would have to go down to the basement and wait it out. Lots of times the electricity would be out, so a flashlight would be all we had to ward off any “terrors” lurking in the corners or from that dreaded black hole. I never knew what I feared more, the storm or the “hole.”

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