The Storm ebook

The Storm

A Book of Poetry

The Storm

The Storm  

A Book of Poetry

Joseph P Hradisky Jr

Dedication

 I dedicate this book to my wonderful wife, Terri, my two sons, Alec and Ian. And to all the poets who need to put their work out there and to forget about all the critics who would say no.

Disclaimer

Anyone depicted in this book bears no resemblance to persons living or dead.

This is the property of Joseph P Hradisky Jr, all rights reserved.

Thank you for reading my book.

TOO LONG, TOO FAR

HOW FAR ALONG THIS ROAD HAVE I TRAVELED?

MY SHOES SHOW THE RAVAGES OF TIME AND DISTANCE

ONLY THREADS KEEP THE HOT PAVEMENT AWAY FROM BARE SKIN 

COWARDS TOO BOLD

I STAND ON A CROSSROAD

FILLED WITH RACING TOADS

IN FINE AUTO CARS

RESEMBLING PICKLING JARS

THEIR MAGNIFICANTLY LOUD ENGINES ROAR

WHILE LITTLE HORNS BEEP FOR

ROOM TO DASH IN AND OUT OF

THE SLOW MOVERS IN THEIR WAY

JUST LIKE THE WHITE RABBIT

LATE FOR A DATE SO THEY RUSH IT

CARELESS WHEN THE WAY IS CLEAR

OR SMASHING AT YOU WITH RISING FEAR

FOR DEEP DOWN INSIDE THEY TRULY KNOW

AND IN THEIR DEEP BLACK EYES IT SHOWS

THAT IN ALL THEIR RUSHING SO BOLD

THEY’RE HEADED FOR AN EARLY GRAVE SO COLD

SO HONEST, AND CAREFUL, DRIVERS BEWARE

FOR IN THIS AGE YOU HAD BETTER TAKE CARE

NOT TO LOOSE YOUR SENSES ON THE BROKEN ROAD

YOU MAY DIE BECAUSE OF COWARDS TOO BOLD.

I SEE THE RAIN

I SEE THE RAIN IN THE AIR

WITH NO CLOUDS IN THE SKY

ON A WARM HAZY DAY

STIRRED BY A GENTLE BREEZE

I SEE AN OLD WOMAN WALKING

DOWN A SIDEWALK WORN WITH AGE

I SEE THE GROUP OF BEAUTIFUL

WOMEN SHE WALKS WITH

EACH ONE A VISION OF HER

WITH THE WEAR OF AGE ERASED

LIKE THE LAYERS OF AN ONION

TILL THE CORE YOUTH CAN BE SEEN

I SEE THE RAIN IN THE AIR

AS THE WIND SHIFTS SUBTLY

BUT THE WOMAN HAS CONFUSED ME

I AM UNCERTAIN IF IT’S HAS BEEN OR WILL BE

I SEE THE CRACKED WOOD OF AN OLD DRESSER

THE PAINT FADED AND PEELING

REVEALING THE OTHER LAYERS BELOW

EACH ONE A STEP BEFORE

BRAND NEW AND FULLY PAINTED

A FRAME AWAITING THE FINISING PIECES

A LOG WAITING TO BE CUT

AND A TALL PINE TREE WAITING TO BE CUT DOWN

I SEE THE RAIN IN THE AIR

FORMING LINES ACROSS THE SKY

LIKE AN OLD TELEVISION

IN NEED OF REPAIR

I SEE THE RAIN IN THE AIR

FALLING ONTO THE DRY GROUND

SENDING SPURTS OF DUST INTO THE AIR

AS RAINBOWS FORM FROM OILS ON THE ROAD

THE RAIN I HAVE SEEN WAS COMING

THE WOMAN I SAW WILL ALWAYS BE BEAUTIFUL

THE DRESSER WILL FALL APART BUT NOT

THE MEMORY OF WHAT IT WAS

LIKE THE TELEVISION CAN BE REPLACED

BY A NEW ONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN

LIKE THE FALLING RAIN AND THE GRAY SKY

NOT KNOWING IF IT’S REAL OR A VISION OF WHAT CAN BE

THE LONG HOT ROAD

THE HEAT RISES UP THROUGH MY

WORN SHOES AS THE SUN BEATS

DOWN FROM A CLOUDLESS SKY

SEARING THROUGH MY TATTERED CLOTHES

WIPING THE SWEAT FROM MY EYES

I GAZE DOWN THE BURNING BLACK

RIBBONS OF HIGHWAY, LIKE THE MARKS OF SKIS