Photo by Dan FelsteadWood and Pixels Narratives - http://www.woodandpixels.blogspot.com/
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Suggested Prompt...
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As he walked through the fields, he thought of all the things he had wanted to say to her. His anger boiled inside him still unable to get out, unable to let itself be heard. As he looked up to the sky a flashing light painted it the colour of his wounded heart. As the thunder sounded he let his feelings burst out and he screamed, his voice mingling with the roaring of the storm.
~ Sullivan McPig
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14 comments:
As he walked through the fields, he thought of all the things he had wanted to say to her. His anger boiled inside him still unable to get out, unable to let itself be heard. As he looked up to the sky a flashing light painted it the colour of his wounded heart. As the thunder sounded he let his feelings burst out and he screamed, his voice mingling with the roaring of the storm.
Sullivan...
I love the roar at the end of this.
Lightning strikes, usually not in the same place twice. Frightening it is, it makes me shiver and I close my eyes. Why the fear? I don't know why. As I child, I hid under the bed, full of dred. Wishing it would stop,that loud sound, going round and round. The flashing bolt of light. I was so happy when I made it through the night. I never was impressed with lightening's sight.
Is it the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline rush knowing that you're close to injury or death? I am enthralled by storms. I'm humbled by nature's fury. The power is unimaginable. Some want to climb mountains or race in the Baja....I want to photograph an F5 tornado at close range.
Dan
ave & Dan,
Both powerful post written from opposite sides emotionally of a storm. I like that. Both captured those feelings a storm offers wonderfully.
LJ
@ Sullivan - nice piece! ;)
@ Dan - love the photo!
I thought I'd share a bit from a post on my own blog (shameless plug..I know). Here's the site if you also want to see it context with photos.
http://cusmyle.blogspot.com/2008/10/storm-rolls-in.html
*** *** ***
There it is in the distance.
Moving towards my life.
Not wanting to give way to fear.
But unsure of how to do that at times.
Watching and waiting as another storm rolls in.
It's threatening even from miles away.
With intensity that stirs up such passionate emotions
in me.
Despite the forward swirling movement, there is beauty unfolding.
Right next to me.
Close.
Grabbing my attention.
And, then...seemingly out of nowhere
the storm makes its presence known.
Blinding.
Slinging hit after hit.
Blustering its way in me
over me
and even through me.
And I start surviving.
Blinking furiously to ward off the rain.
Purposely sitting taller in an effort to bully the storm away from me.
Pressing my shoulders back in defiance against the wind.
I will not give in.
I will not back down.
It is only a storm.
And
it
will
pass.
With the onslaught over,
I release my warrior stance
and look up.
There is a gift.
The kind of gift that only comes after storms pass.
No matter the size or strength of the storm
the gift is always there.
The rainbow pushing through the backdrop of darkness.
And, I see the beauty of change.
Gently making its way in me.
Over me.
And even through me.
Denise...
Just stopped by your post on your blog, lovely images that add beautifully to your writing.
LJ
Thanks everyone for the comments so far on the photo. It is interesting how everyone seems to have a different take on nature and her weather! Have a great "storm free" weekend!
Dan
God's finger touching the earth
bright light from heaven
uncontrolled energy
death bringing
scary
and yet
life giving
when channelled
useful electricity
embedded in a loving relationship.
The day after the carnival, purple lightning tapped the ground in the distance. Ruby shivered at her window but stayed. She wished Nick to her, and not out on the farm. It was in the other direction but there was more to come. This was just the warning flash, the inevitable rumble had already started. She looked back to her book, not knowing how long the light would last.
Anyone mind of I double up on my post? I wrote this poem a couple years ago, watching a summer storm.
Silent lightning
Like silent death
Just a flash in the sky
that you can't catch
I come in the rumble
Of my friend Thunder
And when the rain comes pouring down
And darken do the clouds
First you see me
Now you don't.
Catch me? You definetly won't.
Og take shiny stone from stream. Skygod ticked off, want shiny stone back. Skygod throw big noisy spears. Og, you take shiny stone back before tribe become flashbaked souffle.
I was reminded of a Japanese man I heard about, many years ago,
who had an embarrassing but fortunate encounter with lightning.
Lightning is quick, lightning shocks
Lightning can cash your heavenly stocks
A flash in Japan
Zapped an old man:
Fused his zipper and melted his socks.
We run for the door after hearing the rumble in the distance. I mean, to run outside, to watch!
There is a draw that is so beyond our everyday experience. It is beyond us, so much larger than we are.
We want to stand and gape at the bolt that lights up the sky with more electricity than we know what to do with.
When it hits, yards away, with an orange blast that hurts your ears, you run inside, realizing, that by the time you hear it, it is already too late!
I sit watching the lightning flash down. My husband urges me inside to safety, but I cannot move. I'm mesmerized by its beauty. Mesmerized by its power. A memory flashes to my mind. I remember sitting with my grandfather as a little girl watching the storms. He loved the lightning too.
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