Poetry-Thing Thursday: Thunder and Ash

Thunder and ash.
Bronze and brass.
Scenes of a decrepit fire,
burning beneath city spires.

They came first for the village,
the women and men,
leaving the children,
as if already dead.

They took to the forests,
to make amends,
’til once more it came,
’til once more it reigned.

It took the eldest first.
Then each one thereafter.

‘Til one-by-one,
blackness came.
Swallowed them whole.
Ne’er to be seen again,
save by billowing thunder,
and ash ’pon the mountain.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Just Be It Soon

Smoke curls around me,
drifts toward the window.
I take hits as I see,
it swirling in limbo.

An ember glows through darkness.
Shadows flare like caricatures on my face.
I exhale as all this,
is forced on a current from this place.

Like smoke I whirl and weave.
Through space and time.
Born to deceive.
Fight and die for the dime.

Still I sit,
at odds with fate,
ever ready for another hit,
and dinner, with death, for a date.

There is no compulsion,
greater than man’s lust.
No matter his revulsion,
at betraying those whom have his trust.

So wax philosophical, folk.
Or wane like a falling moon.
Or carry on the wind like smoke.
Whatever you be,
just be it soon.