Friday, October 16, 2009

Anvil Turbulence

Today the clouds are distant palaces
with alabaster domes and marble walls
of swirled grey. No floors. The chalices
of rain are carried down the sloping halls
by angels poised to some true vertical
on arbitrary levels. Under vaults
of moisture dangerous with electrical
discharge, they polish steel lightning bolts
and glassy drops of hail. They ballroom-waltz
through three dimensions, rise-and-fall gavotte
around the floating thunder-catapaults.
These storm-attending Terpsichores are not
confined to pinheads. Anvil turbulence
is where you go to find if angels dance.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

4 comments:

Michelle Johnson said...

great poem. have a wonderful weekend.

Dan Gambiera said...

Ah, winter in Portland

PS : De-abbreviate as you like ;) said...

Nice .. i never could write a sonnet !! loved reading this ..


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I came back to blogging after a break of 4 months to find TOP closed. not to mention how disappointed i was. Talked to Linda if I can carry on with the prompts, though i have no prior experience of it .. So if you want, i can help you with TOP.

Thanks,
Prats
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Princess Haiku said...

I love the vitality and movement in this poem.