Wind

The sun hid behind a shroud
of dust blowing in from the
West. Lubbock inhaled into
the lungs, as easy as smoke,

sustained on winds in excess
of thirty five miles an hour,
driven deeper by gusts of
nearly hurricane force. Fires

broke out, fire departments stretched
to the end of their hoses
and patience as one got knocked
down and another began.

Walls vibrated, cracked under
the shouldering of the blast
determined to enter. Flights
canceled before the crash; live

wires fractured beneath the strain;
nerves were frayed by the banshee
howling outside their door - more
of this expected this week ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

No Ordinary Storm

This is no ordinary storm,
no garden variety of ...
normal ... dumping buckets on our
heads; we're beyond cats and dogs. It's
lyons and tygers and beyahs (o
my), this efficient producer
of wet and several thousand
bolts of lightning per hour. Weather
for ducks and for ducking (hiding
like ostrich, keeping butt down to
avoid being struck). Supposed to
clear up, heat up: believe it when
it happens. Who knows when that will ...
been an ... unusual ... summer.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Hurricane, Go Away!

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
Your friends
are not welcome,
especially since the last ones
left quite a mess
for me to clean up.

I just got it picked up,
and I'm not doing this again.

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
What do
I have to do?
Spell it out for you in black and white?
What part of 'No'
don't you understand?

My house is not your home.
Do you see a 'Welcome' mat here??

Go away.
You are not welcome here.
Do not
even THINK of
dropping in for a little visit.
We won't be home.
PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE!

You are not welcome here.
Now: Go away. Don't slam the -- door!

(c) 2004, Karla Dorman

Miracle in the Storm

... Survivors wander the ruined landscape;
in shock, they look at the remainders
of familiar comforts, now scattered and
broken; they pick through the pieces,
heartsick at their loss, grateful they're alive.
... A sudden cry pierces the rain filled night;
flashlights answer the summons; it is
a mother, holding her daughter's doll; mud
covered, it survived; al little girl
will be reunited with her best friend.
... In another part of town, parents look
in wonder at the tree resting on
the bed where their boy had been sleeping; their
son had been awakened by the wind;
he went into Mommy and Daddy's room.
... Under a fallen house, a tiny mew
shivers through the air; a Mama cat
and her six kittens took refuge in the
basement; they are wet and scared, but are
safe; seven more miracles in the storm.
... And Gramma will have her loving Poppy
to share the rest of her days with; he
slept through the worst of the storm; his hearing
aids still on the nightstand; Gramma said
Pop's snores were louder than the tornado!

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

GreenScreen

Meteorologist's eyes trained
to decipher greens, yellows, reds
on radar, spinning trouble we
see as blobs on our TV sets.

(All we know: red is bad. Heavy
weather is fixing to move in.)

The calm voice of reason slices
through each level of the storm, tells
which way it's headed, hoping to
save lives along the damage path.

(Don't know how much science goes
into bringing us the forecast.)

Would like to thank David Finfrock,
the NBC Channel Five Storm
Team for keeping us informed, for
inviting me into your world.

(And as far as the GreenScreen went:
don't worry. Think your jobs are safe.)

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Stalked

... embers announce a newborn as
fire beget fire:
on white-hot sheets of flame, a beast
with yellow eyes
twists on its umbilical cord
in strengthening winds.

It learns to graze.
The field, ablaze.

The monster's breath sears the sun
which turns blood-red.
Smoke chugs from its nostrils; I taste
its presence
bitter on my tongue, sharp like glass
deep in my lungs.

Igniting fear
as it draws near.

This is MY disaster, the
ongoing drought,
because I prayed the rain away.
It's my fault,
the devil parting burning grass
searching for me

as its next snack ...
must watch my back.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

Katrina: Everything's Broken

Daddy, is everything broken on
the Gulf Coast? Just hearts, Baby, shards
of a mirror lyin' on the
sidewalks reflectin' leaden skies

above, our soul shattered in a
billion pieces. Daddy ... will it
return? Hope so, Baby, don' need
another seven years bad luck .....

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

1 Dead in Attic

Did I know ya? Did ya serve
me beignets and chicory
coffee down on th' banks
of th' mighty Mississip?

Or were ya that homeless
Veteran that asked me for a
dolla so ya could get
yoreself sumpin t' eat?

Or were ya th' little kid
with th' great big eyes
peekin shyly from behind
th' safety of yore Mama?

Or were ya th' guy with
th' Cajun accordion playin
such sweet music that
set my feet t' dancin?

Name sounds famililar ...

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Crime In Progress

The wind, determined to get in
despite doors and windows barring

entrance. It howls. It screams, pushing
shoulders against the walls of my

suddenly flimsy apartment,
shoving them until they crack. How

long will they hold it back? How long
will the lights stay on? Time will tell ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Concussive Blow

One twelve: January falls in its
tracks, right overhead: it needs to
rest a while. Its mouth hangs
open; frigid breath exhales in an
icy blast; trees bend in sympathy
to its weight. Frozen digits gnarl
around the clouds ... winter hath
returned with a fury, knocking out
any recollection of Spring.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

God Hates Texas

God Hates Texas

... I think, mean really, really hate
it. Why else would we flood in
heat or roast in wet? Why else
would summer freeze and winter,
burn? Why else would we get blown
away by stilled conditions
or go outside to play in
tornadoes and hurricanes?
Never a dull moment, here ...
God must hate Texas. He must -

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Liquid Sunshine

It's raining little girls.
They laugh their way down from the clouds,
losing their footing on my face
because of tears, already there -

they titter their way past my cheeks,
giggling their way down my nose,
tickling their way to my ears,
enticing a smile from my lips -

they whisper memories I had,
memories I had forgotten
until this one moment in time.
They want me to jump in puddles?!??

I'm not as young as I once was!
And won't I look ridiculous?
I am supposed to act my age!
They will say I have lost my mind -

But who cares. Get out of the way!
It's about time I have some fun.
And so, I take a running leap
and splash into the biggest one -

the wettest, the soggiest one!
I am sure that I look a sight!
I can't recall why I was sad.
Thank God for little girls.

(c) 2005, Revised, 2008, Karla Dorman

July's Fireworks

Not storm! these rounded
vowels of heavy
thunder echoing
through the darkness on
clouds of smoke. Not guns!
these mortared thuds of
sonance lingering
in vibrating souls
and shaking the ground,
underfoot. Nay, it's
the announcement of
night flowers blooming
overhead on stalks
of light imprinted
on the eyes: the joy
of watching July's
fireworks exploding -
incredible voice,
the wonderful songs,
ones we see - and feel.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

Word Storm

following an invisible current,
coursing in on a celestial jet stream
from Heaven's vault of locution -

following the path of the wind,
one gets snagged on a lightning bolt
which gets deposited in the brain -

it ignites a spark of creativity
which results in a chain reaction:
there is a veritable shower of verse -

one
then another
and then another -

and another and another,
thundering from my pen
sofasticanhardlykeepup -

since that stormy september day,
there have been many floods.
i type as fast as they arrive -

sometimes more than one event occurs
pouring from the mind to the fingers
and rising before you on the screen -

i hope you
and i
don't drown -

(c) 2004, Revised 2008, Karla Dorman

Tangerine Deliciousness

The sky, tangerine
deliciousness as
the sun tingles the
nose. Yesterday's rain
forgotten, distant
memory. No clouds
to mar the perfect
stretch, overhead: it's
going to be a
beautiful day. Who's
to say what it will
be like, tomorrow ...
today is what counts!

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Thunder

Confined
in a celestial prison,
restrained
by fulminating ligatures
of light,

the accused voices displeasure,
demanding
in a reverberating roar
instant
and immediate liberation.

(c) 2003, Karla Dorman

Tanka: Unwilling Participant

Pulled this way and that
way by the wind's indecision
of which way to blow -
Nature playing tug - of - war,
adopting me as the rope ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

100 % Chance We'll Miss You

For Troy Dungan, WFAA Meteorologist (Channel 8, Dallas/Fort Worth)

The sun will shine a
little less brightly;
clouds gather on our
horizon; after
thirty one years, a
legend in weather
forecasting retired
Wednesday. Bow ties can
be loosened to flap
in the breeze; the calm
voice we came to trust
in storm can rest. Troy
Dungan, we'll miss you,
especially
when the weather's bad:
wasn't so scary
when you explained it -
God bless and God speed.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Imitation the Sincerest Form of Flattery

It's not bad enough
that Katrina stormed out of the room,
ripping, snorting mad,
danger simmering in her dark eyes,
throwing things aside
in her sudden display of fury -

Rita, her little
sister, unobserved under the bed,
was watching with keen
interest - she, who wanted to do
everything that
her big sister did, learned her lesson well.

She's on the exact
same path Katrina was on, and will
be remembered for
the stress she is causing for those who
are living along
an already storm weary coastline.

(c) 2005, Karla Dorman

What to Wear?

Nature can't decide what outfit to wear.
She dons a pantsuit of colorful Autumn
hues, turns and looks at herself in the
mirror. She looks good. Damn good.

But like a woman's wont to do, she
changes her mind again. She's not done
with Summer, yet, so she wears a frock
stitched with sunshine and warmth. Who

knows what she'll have on later in the
week? She may dress herself up in
Winter white, or wear twisters as an
accessory ... Spring fashion, you know.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Devil Winds

With banshee roar,
the sky turns liquid
in its darkness,
illuminated only
by my fear,
because the power went
about the same time
as my nerves did.
The storm screams
my name and I
hunker down in
suddenly flimsy shelter,
watching the water
boldly entering
my home through windows
of rain and cracks I
never knew existed ...
the roof snap, crackles,
and pops off into the
whirling madness outside:
the fingers of the
fury reach into my heart,
shaking me to the core,
leaving me at the
mercy of devil winds ...

(c) 2005, Karla Dorman.

Katrina: Two Years Later

Blinking in the freshening
gale, he stood firm: no damnfool
storm was going to chase him
away. Wife and kids could go,
he was staying. Been through these
things, before: he and house came
out alright. His home, all he
knew: born there, raised there, it was
there when he went off to war,
greeted him on his return,
got married on the front porch,
for Pete's -- he wasn't going
nowhere. He lifted his drink
and roared at the hurricane:
"Try and git me, ya bastard."
The hurricane answered. Two
years later, he's still missing.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman.

Stubborn

... More rain. Raining, even
as I write. Cities are
under orders to get
out, evacuate. Six
Flags now a water park;
snakes, not in a plane, but
in the wet; people in
trees with fire ants to keep
them company; kids swept
away ... it's the same sad
news on the news. Thought this
was the local, not the
Weather - the weather is
the news. Other places
burning, turning into
desert. That was us, last
year: prayed for rain, now look
what we've got: too damn much.
Yesterday, tornado
warnings on top of flood:

rained deep into the night;
a break 'til a little
while ago. P o u r i n g. Two
inches an hour. They say,
"Turn around, don't drown." Hard
to do when the pattern.
Won't. Change. Perhaps next week ...
Nature's being stubborn.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Big Weather

Big Weather: here, there, everywhere,
and it's only getting bigger and
badder. All eyes stare at the radar,

watching, hoping, planning their lives and
dreams around what the weatherman will
say. Will it rain? Will it not? Snow??? It's

anyone's guess. Gonna do what the
weather's gonna do (my Daddy told
me that). Still, nice to have a head's up.

And so, I plan along with the rest
of them, waiting for the extended
forecast and what Finfrock has to say.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Hors d'oeuvres

A black maw yawns overhead,
a darkness filled with rotten
teeth gumming the blue from the
sky, bit by bit, piece by piece.

It has a hunger, this storm
approaching from the north, the
one with an insatiable
appetite for things, below -

it will not be satisfied
until it picks me up with
fingers of wind - hors d'oeuvres to
be snacked on at its leisure.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Hissisity

The sky puffed out in a hissy fit
of monumental ... hissisity.
It chased its tail from one horizon
to the other and back again, bared
its teeth in wind and rain - never heard
her growl like that: sounded like thunder.
Lightning sparked from her eyes as she tore
around the room - this sweet little cat
I'd named Katrina was a demon
in disguise. Have the scars to prove it ...

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Wicked

So fast
she came roaring
out of the south,
her skirt
composed of dark sky.
She danced
with a wicked
twist of her hips
and men
fell dead at her feet.

(c) 2005, Revised, 2008, Karla Dorman.

Isaac's Storm

No announcement of the
coming storm, except what
was in the clouds, the wind,
the rain. Nature's warning
screamed, "Hurricane!" Science

knew it all (Galveston,
Texas, Nineteen Hundred) -
inCLINEd to believe it:
been blows, before. They'd come
onshore and leave just as

quickly. Not this day, the
Eighth of September: streets,
overran; stilted homes
deemed impervious knocked
off their foundations; six

thousand men, women and
children died. The sea coughed
up its dead; funeral
pyres burned for weeks - the
unnamed storm was Isaac's:

remembered for its strength,
for its ferocity,
for the damage it caused,
for unraveling man's
attempt to outguess God ...

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

In The Alley

The sky shaded in
darkening hues of terror,
clouds swollen, pulsing

with malignancy.
The wind hushed, silent before
the chaos to come.

Red boxes issued;
radars crank up; weathermen,
too, on high alert,

matching the high risk,
dangerous situation
building overhead.

Spatterings of rain
do not cut humidity,
only enhance it;

lightning caresses
the darkness; thunder competes
with sirensong's pitch:

"Take cover! Twisters
have been sighted!" Storm chasers
converge with the storm -

should be used to this -
I'm not, I'm not! This is life,
down in the Alley.

(c) 2007, Revised, 2008, Karla Dorman.

Flames

The heat smashes the birds
to silence. Not a leaf stirs
in the trees. The sun, on
fire; its blaze presses ever
down. The grass, once full of
life, starves, and in the closer
distance, a roar: it's not
the reasurring promise
of hope in thunder, but
of pain in the flames, nearing ...

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman

U.F.O.

Don't tell me there are no such things
as U.F.O.s. The mother ship
parked right overhead: we under
the sky read the message, knew it
would be bad. It looked like "War of
the Worlds" with the lightning veining
the turbulence and the wind and
rain slashing down. Thankfully, no
damage here, but it was one of
the scariest storms I'd ever
seen: have the picture to prove it!

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

It Got Ugly, Real Fast

... the sky turn'd Spring side out,
furr'd at the edges; it
hiss'd a warning in the
wind, swiping at the Earth
with paws of anger. Mice.
That's all we were, mice to
be toy'd with: it got real
ugly, real fast. The last
thought I had before things
went black was, "Have mercy!"

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Hunnert Percent Foolproof!

Perhaps a reminder
to let us know
who's in charge? Certainly
not weathermen,
trying to outguess the One
who put it there.
"Maybe it will, maybe
it won't. That's the
best guess we have right now."
(If you must know,
look out the window at
the weather rock:

Hunnert percent foolproof!

WET: it's raining.
DRY: fair weather.
DUSTY: dust storm.
SWAYING: windy.
JUMPING: Earthquake!!
WHITE: it's snowing.
ICY: Yep. Ice.
GONE: tornado (or hurricane).

Are there any takers?

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Storm ... Chased!

The Bizness of Storm
IS my bus i ness.
All I know: my whole
world revolves around
them. Hunted/hunting.
Pursued/Pursuing:
their power alerts
fear to level red,
but their beauty calls
me out into the
wind, inspires me
to write, to capture
them on film: this, the
life of a chaser.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't

He didn't need to scan the
weather maps to know trouble
was brewing. All signs pointed
to a disaster in the
making: besides, old bones told

all he needed to know. It
would be bad, this runaway
freight train of a storm. Now: how
to plot it: who would be stuck
on the tracks, who would be missed?

This was the part he hated
about his job: if he was
wrong, even if he was right,
people would die. He sighed and
went back to reading the maps.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

Two's Company. Three's A Crowd.

The wind runs fingernails up,
Down the spine, shredding them like
Tissue. What courage there was
Dissolves into the pitch, to
Be seen no more. Another
Night spent hiding! Another
Night screaming fear into the
Pillow - damn fool storms. Alone!
Except for terror to keep
Me company ................... and the wind.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman

The Howling

... used to the room going black,
spinning, as if the storm
reversed itself back into
my bed. Lightning flashes:
oneonethousandtwoonethou -
never reach 'three' before
the Howling screams me awake,
neatly stopping the heart.
Happens again and again,
these spasms of panic
throwing me onto the floor,
safely out of harm's way ...

try telling that to my fear.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman.

Stormphobic

jagged lightning splits
angry, bruised-black skies
the clouds shattered by
shock waves of thunder-
sound - very intense

the warning sirens
wail - the sound chills my
blood - fear grips my heart -
CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT
I'M SUPPOSED TO DO

strobe flashes of light
illuminates the
fear on my face - of
knowing the massive
storm IS STALKING ME

i know the roar of
rainfall mixed with hail
hides the screaming of
a tornado - i
imagine the worst

all i can do is
hide in the shelter
of a downstairs room -
central location -
i pray it's enough

the power dies - i'm
sure i'll be next - so
afraid - the thunder
outside absorbs the
thunder of my heart

i am shaking scared -
panic overtakes
my mind WHAT WAS THAT
breathing is ragged -
must calm down BUT HOW

sweat runs down my face -
feel like i'm gonna
throw up - feel stupid
'cause no one else acts
like this when it storms

more time between the
flash of lightning and
crash of thunder - rain
seems to be easing -
winds are not as strong -

the storm loses its
intensity - THANK
GOD i've survived - it's
over - until the
next severe storm comes

(c) 2002, Karla Dorman

Extreme Home (Re)Makeovers

Picture: reds, yellows, greens
on the radar screen: might
be pretty, but tell that
to those living under
the swirling color, black -
the storm does not give a
damn about color schemes
as it rearranges
towns, lives, buildings to its
satisfaction, despite
what the weatherman says.
It doesn't care about
how it looks on T.V. ...
all it has on its mind
is causing chaos and
getting out before it
is caught on video:
wasn't q u i t e quick enough.

(c) 2007, Karla Dorman