With Blazing, Electric Blue Thunder Poem by Gert Strydom

(after Pablo Neruda)

With blazing, electric blue thunder
the morning is alive in this summer.

The wind tosses the threatening clouds like washing
torn from the line, waving goodbye without hands.

The mouthless harsh voice of the wind
howls right through our blissful silence.

Thunder bolts rock exploding in bright white light
while the wind rips leaves, branches and trees

as if in remembrance of long gone battles and wars
while it tosses squalls of pattering buckets of rain

sounding like the roar of a havoc orchestra
from the very gates of destruction, right from hell

while big oak trees sway as if only twigs,
some topple torn right out from their roots

and against me storm tossed in passion you are laying,
coming weightless full of fiery blazing desire,

with tender sweet lips that are kissing bringing bliss
and outside the wind roars as if its power is endless.

[Reference: “Es La Mañana Llena” “The Morning Is Full” by Pablo Neruda.]