Mest leste ▸
Sara Teasdale
Careless forever, beautiful proud sea,
You laugh in happy thunder all alone,
You fold upon yourself, you dance your dance
Impartially on drift-weed, sand or stone.
You make us believe that we can outlive death,
You make us for an instant, for your sake,
Burn, like stretched silver of a wave,
Not breaking, but about to break.
a couple of green geese we are
alone with the evening light
thunder and lightning it seems
everywhere else
rain on the temple trees
like words in the book of a blind beggar
the outhouse
which made me almost sick
shivered from top to bottom
with the outside thunder
To a hen finch I give an account of the accounts of desire.
Night rain, thunder and lightning. I hear a man in pain.
I write to all places that have no heart.
A sleepless night with a dire noises
A booming sounds came across the window
Light flickering
Quivering beneath the sheet
Heart racing
Mind hallucinating worst
Not able to catch my thoughts
Enormous noises again
Clung to my pillow not able to let go
Thought death was at my door.
Thunder, beautiful thunder
I can see the lightning
I can feel the thunder
Feel the thunder rushing through my veins
Thunder, beautiful thunder
You're the most wonderful catastrophe
Thunder, when will you be coming back to me?
Darkness; night has fallen.
In the distance, thunder rolls.
It is louder now; light flashes in the sky.
Rain pours.
I cannot hear anything but
The scream of the wind
And the screeching of the
Lashing rains.
The thunder is louder now.
I am afraid.
Lights have gone
In my master’s home.
I am alone in my cage.
I cannot hear anything
But the thunder; I am afraid.
I have to get out of my cage
Dance beneath the stars
as you drink in the night.
Let the thunder over take you
as the lightening fills the sky.
Feel the force of nature
penetrate your skin,
spin with world
as the magic sinks in
she was once asked
why she liked thunderstorms
She answered
" it drowns out my thoughts"
And all hours long, the town
Roars like a beast in a cave
That is wounded there
And like to drown;
While days rush, wave after wave
On its lair.
An invisible woe unseals
The flood, so it passes beyond
All bounds: the great old city
Recumbent roars as it feels
The foamy paw of the pond
Reach from immensity.
But all that it can do
Now, as the tide rises,
Is to listen and hear the grim
Waves crash like thunder through
A LADDER sticking up at the open window,
The top of an old ladder ;
And all of Summer is there.
Great waves and tufts of wistaria surge across the window,
And a thin, belated blossom
Jerks up and down in the sunlight ;
Purple translucence against the blue sky.
"Tie back this branch," I say,
But my hands are sticky with leaves.
And my nostrils widen to the smell of crushed green.
The ladder moves uneasily at the open window.
And I call to the man beneath,
"Tie back that branch."
There is a ladder leaning against the window-sill.
And a mutter of thunder in the air.