50 Word Stories: the storm


In the punishing storm that had claimed so many lives, death had come searching for him only to be brushed aside by his unrelenting determination to set eyes on another day.

With the boat intact and dawn moments away, relieved, joyful tears now gathered to cleanse his spirit of shadows.

The storm we bring


distant storm

Towards distant skies
eyes wander,
minds ponder,
at storms to come.
Heralded by
ominous clouds
and uncertainties,
unrecognisable seasons
arrive and linger,
to spread veiled threats
that stay to mar
known landscapes.

How I yearn
for the predictability
of years gone by,
when winter
meant blinding
whiteness that
cap mountains
and gentle snow
buffeting cities,
or when summer skies
were left free from
autumns tears

Alas, confusion
now reigns where
trees know not
when to shed
and flowers
when to bloom.
The storms that
come bring
to rewrite

Such storms
care not
for our suffering,
nor has time
for ignorance,
or for carelessness.
They come
to spite us,
to remind us
of the change we bring
and the storm
we are.





From far away it calls to me.
Clouds brewing across the sea.
With rage at each stage it rumbles and with that sound,
water from the sky will tumble.

It is the ultimate rage that you cannot cage.

Lightning will flash and day will turn to night.
Fierce winds will blow and waves will grow.
In its wake, devastation it will surely sow.

In time its force will dissipate.
Its anger subside.

But to those who bear its brunt.
Alas, time comes too late and their fate is sealed.
With damage done, they can only pray their wounds will heal.


— J M Lysun —

Copyright © 2014 J M Lysun. All Rights Reserved.