A matter of perspective

Wind, it can be the voice of a harridan
Tone-deaf to the scorn and fury
Singing in virulent octaves, stinging
Each surface encountered
Encircling my home, my bastion
Like wolves testing boundaries
Exploring, searching for weakness
Surrounding with howls and whimpers
Yet it was a single entity, brutish
Fiercely composed, malevolent of spirit
Tearing forth enormous, imposing
A daunting malignant scourge
Tugging at buried nails, creaking
Pirate timbers. Warping the ribs
The hull of a house that might
Be lost at Sea for the complaints
Endured from deadwoods and joints
Heightening an anxious taut-wire
State, on top of which I shivered
Over an incessant nameless
Banging. More dreadful for its harsh
Anonymous beats that pounded
My anvil brain. Threatening
To drive me up or cave a wall
Expose the tender underside to these
Tyrant Hellements, the gravest
Greatest blows on Earth!
Proof there is always something vaster
Than ourselves. Targeting a solitary
Reticent soul, who simply wanted a haven
A span of tranquil existence away
Who refused to give up the ghost
Declined to submit by force
Having just attained this dream-abode
After years of saving up Pennies
Few of them lucky or stray
Death I feared had come for me
Far from any natural disaster
It was paranormal, the Weather
A little mad. Perhaps my chance to
Dream expired. The Tide ran out
My ship aground, stranded
Atmosphere-hammered. The gale
Thrashing, a colossal Kraken
Assailing from every corner
Yet the land held fast and firm
Windows shook their panes
Wobbled like loosened teeth and raised
From the dead a creepy clatter
Increasing conviction they would surely
Sunder at so tremendous a strain —
As hope clung to whichever beam
Could anchor it in this desolate
Tempest of wails, the violent
Tumult of air and ungodly might!
Inside nothing stirred, clenched
With dread or awe. No spider
Not a single insect in sight
Only me to hug myself and rock
A nervous habit, seated on
The floor of a dark closet, hiding
Till I could bear no longer…
"I need more years!" I railed
And wept at the bane. "Return
To your blustering bellowing lungs!
Foul dragon! Abomination!
I will not surrender. You are
The one who must subside —
Must lay down your whips!
Your lambasting lashing tentacles —
These rude shocks and shudders!"
It worked. Speaking out, denouncing
Folly and unfairness had pulled
Some sort of plug in the Universe
Or maybe a thread unraveled
That ill cantankerous wind
Reversed all thrust and gusted
Back to where the maelstrom's menace
Did not begin but burrowed. Escaped
To its own sturdy battened buttoned-up
Shelter: a battered harpy's harried
Whirling turbulent refuge against
The Cosmic Storm.

Lori R. Lopez is a peculiar author, poet, illustrator, and wearer of hats. Verse and stories have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies including The Sirens Call, Spectral Realms, Weirdbook, The Horror Zine, Space & Time, HWA Poetry Showcases, JOURN-E, Impspired, Aphelion, Altered Reality, Dead Harvest, and California Screamin (Foreword Poem). Books include The Dark Mister Snark, Leery Lane, An Ill Wind Blows, The Witchunt, The Fairy Fly, and Darkverse: The Shadow Hours (nominated for an Elgin Award). Some of Lori's poems have been nominated for Rhysling Awards. You can learn more about her at the website shared with two talented sons: https://www.fairyflyentertainment.com

Find more by Lori R. Lopez in the Author Index.