Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

POEM: Tempest: or, Overstimulated

Posted on March 1, 2020 by B Gourley

A quiet kind of lightening storm
will fire in wild moments of mass,
when thought chunks rush to the center —
the very center — of my mind.

It’s a ten ton pile up of thought
first packed, then crammed, together fiercely.

Just like the thunderless lightening,
no sound escapes that brain tempest.

3 thoughts on “POEM: Tempest: or, Overstimulated”

grumpygorman on March 1, 2020 at 6:16 pm said:

Wow, may I share this on a poetry site of mine? (credit given fully, as always) 🙂

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- B Gourley on March 1, 2020 at 6:25 pm said:
  
  Sure, reblogging is enabled. Thanks.
  
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The Trainer RN Hood River on March 8, 2020 at 8:25 am said:

Nice

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