StormSpinner's Poetry and Photography

The Chaser's Night Before Christmas

2010-12-03T18:19:00.000-08:00

THE CHASER'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

(with apologies to Clement Clark Moore)

'Twas the night before Christmas at the SPC,
Mets read the models, to see if they'd agree.
The stockings were hung, by the radar with care,
In hopes a better forecast would be in there.

Storm chasers were all nestled, all snug in their beds,
With visions of supercells dancing in their heads.
I, the lead forecaster, said there'd be no storms,
The conditions weren't right for them to form.

I had just laid down for a long, Winter's nap,
When all of a sudden, lightning hit with a SNAP!
And out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter,
I leaped from my bed, to see what had shattered!

Looked out of the window, and what did I see?
A tornado. A big one: I think, EF-3!
I ran to the office, to sound the alert,
Praying like thunder that no one would get hurt.

The chasers ran to their cars, lightbars aglow,
Along with their computers, cameras in tow.
When, to my wondering eyes, who should appear?
But Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer!

He did not look happy. He was soaking wet.
Hail bounced off of his head. BOY, was he upset!
He screamed and he hollered, used my name in vain,
Said I would never work in this town again.

"Now, Burney. Now, Carter. Now, Jackson and Norris!
Bontempo and Miller, is it headed for us?
You need to save Christmas. I NEED A REPORT.
On, Adams! On, Talbot! Give your best effort!

Which way is it heading? I have got to know!
WHICH WAY IS THAT TORNADO GOING TO GO???"
Kendra booted the live feed on ChaserTV,
It was watched by one million, four hundred and three.

The tornado roared through some big empty fields.
Chasers and spotters all kept their windshields.
The storm would be discussed on Storm Track the next day,
On why things had gotten together that way.

Santa gave everyone extra presents that year,
For saving lives, he gave them new cars AND new gear.
He forgave me, and as he drove out of sight,
He said, "That's the last time I'll storm chase at night!!!"

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (12/3)

The Devil's Manifesto

2010-12-02T23:09:00.001-08:00

... everybody talks about the baby, the
holy child, whose birth they celebrate
each Christmas. But we want to keep
him there, an innocent, wrapped up
like a present in swaddling clothes ---

weak and ineffective. Little God. For
the wages of sin is ugly. The cross
means suffering and pain. The blood
means death but no one must EVER
know about the life. It would be best

if we could keep him young forever ---
don't let him grow up to die only to rise
again as the King of kings and Lord of
lords. They'll bow to a Babe but not to
the Only Begotten of the Father, the

Hope for all mankind Who stepped
down from Heaven, Whose Name is
above all names. We'll confuse the
Holy Days until they don't know what
to believe: this is your assignment ....

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (12/11)

link to me reading the poem: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMaXAiGiYvc

Apocalypse

2010-12-02T22:46:00.000-08:00

There is an image I want to use, one that inspired these lines, but I'm waiting for the photographer's permission to use it.

It looked like something out of the Bible,
the part where
God gets mad. The way the sky knotted

overhead, twisting and turning ((almost
like a noose???)).
The Wild, Wild West was about to get a

whole lot wilder. Lightning spit every
which way and
the wind raised its voice: I know right.

Where. You. Live. That's just great.
Not what I
wanted to hear. The Apocalypse was

fixin' to break and it was too. Damn.
LATE!!!! to seek
shelter: nowheretorun! Nowheretohide!!

All of the King's horses and all of the
King's men would
not be able to put me together again ----

that's if they even f o u n d me. The
storm came out,
all guns blazing ---- and that was when

I
woke
up. :/

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (12/1)

Memories

2010-12-02T22:35:00.000-08:00

Thanks for the memories, of
color so bright it shocked the
eyes and pleasured senses

and camera lens. Winter has
claimed you as his own, but
he doesn't have the best part

of you: you saved that for me
and I am honored. As much
as I hate goodbyes, it won't

be long until we see each
other again. Will be right
here, waiting, for your return.

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (12/1)

Bataan Death March

2010-11-19T04:44:00.000-08:00

'Death March' (c) Lt Henry G. Lee, A Soldier's Poet

So you are dead. The easy words contain
No sense of loss, no sorrow, no despair.
Thus hunger, thirst, fatigue, combine to drain
All feeling from our hearts. The endless glare,
The brutal heat, anesthetize the mind.
I can not mourn you now. I lift my load,
The suffering column moves. I leave behind
Only another corpse, beside the road.

My response, in reading these powerful, brutal lines ... thank you, Uncle Duke, and all who serve(d).

I cannot imagine what it was like to be
Marched until you couldn't take. One.
More. Step. What were your last
Thoughts as you stared into the gun
Pointed at your head? Was it fear?
Or resignation? Did you pray?

And if you weren't shot where you fell:
You kept on. One foot in front of the
Other on the road to Hell. Held captive
For one thousand, two hundred twenty
Four days before you were liberated just
In time for your Mother's birthday.

You were one of the lucky ones. Will never
Know what you endured. You kept it deep
Inside, in a secret place, that none should
Touch, all the way to your grave. I weep,
For your story wasn't told. How many
More paid a terrible price and the words

Remain silent? Mark mine: I will never forget
What you did for my freedom ---- can't ignore
Your sacrifice. I honor you this Veteran's Day
And always. A 'thank you' is not enough for
Righting the wrongs done to those who
Served. I'll make sure your voices are heard ...

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (11/8)

Porch Chaser

2010-10-28T17:03:00.000-07:00

... When distant thunder reveilles the
clouds to assemble in formation;
when lightning marches them by in
review; when rain and hail gather
forces with wind, there I am, camera
in hand, embe dded with the troops.

When meteorologists call for a threat
of storms; when radars ramp up to
alert level red; when the reporter in
me leaps at the chance to record
events as they happen, there I am,
camera in hand, ready to catch it all.

No car (have cane, will travel). No
paying for gas; no afternoon stops at
greasy spoons or overnights at roach
motels; always a chance for a bust in
the forecast: no matter. There I'll be,
camera in hand. Call me Porch Chaser.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman (12/3)

Noted In Passing (For J.Allen's Obituary Challenge)

2010-10-28T16:44:00.000-07:00

Karla Dorman, Poet Extraordinaire,
(also known as StormSpinner) spun
her last storm 4 October, 2058.

When she was good,
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad,
She was still read.

That's all she wanted,
to leave her mark on the world,
judging by the numerous
volumes she left behind.

Internment was at the National Cemetary,
paying homage to her military service;
her pen was donated to the Smithsonian,
as were copies of her media appearances.

She never let fame and fortune get to her
head; she donated to her church and to
many charities she believed in: those that
helped the poor, animals, and Veterans.

She is survived by her twin sister and
many authors at the first place who loved
and accepted her poetry, Authors Den.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman (1/27)

How I Became The StormSpinner

2010-10-28T16:42:00.000-07:00

Who knew I would become the
StormSpinner. Bad clouds used
to thunder me out of bed with their
vivid flashes of lightning prophesying
my imminent doom.

Wanted to be a meteorologist
but fear of storms drove me down
the basement every time it rained---
some brave weatherman I'd turn out to
be. Forecast: Panic!!

One blizzard, two indirect strikes
from lightning, three (or was it four?)
floods and remnants of a Category Five
Camille later, joined the service, moved to:
Tornado Alley.

And it's lived up to its name: six,
now. All have been weak, but when
the roof goes, does strength matter??
Once it's gone, puppy's gone. Don't have to
chase: the storms find me.

A day of disaster was my salvation:
from ashy, tear-stained skies, poetry
began to fall: no shelter to hide within.
All I had: four walls of words and pictures
to help me survive.

Have been spinning storms, since. I
stall their forward progress one stanza,
one image at a time: attempting to give the
extended to end the terror, once and for all---
you're reading it now.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman (8/27)

I Will Praise Him In The Storm

2010-10-28T01:05:00.000-07:00

When skies turn dark and
my world turns to grey, I
will not be afraid.

I will celebrate as I watch
Him autograph the clouds
with a silver pen of light.

I will tremble as He shakes
my world with a booming
laugh of thunder.

I will bow down before Him
as He kisses my cheek
with a gentle breeze.

No need to fear as I lift
my hands in thanksgiving ---
I will praise Him in the storm.

(c) Karla Dorman (10/14)

Little god

2010-10-28T00:13:00.000-07:00

i was a god once.
well, that was before i was expelled from the high kingdom.
father, too serious.
godplaying was fine, but i also wanted to have fun.

i was a god once.
father said, "YOU HAVE THE WHOLE UNIVERSE AT YOUR COMMAND.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
godplaying was fine, i just wanted to make friends WITH man.

i was a god once.
father said, "GODS HAVE ALWAYS PLAYED HAVOC IN HUMAN LIVES.
THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN.
IT IS UP TO YOU TO CHOOSE WHO WILL DIE AND WHO SURVIVES."

i was a god once.
father wanted me to enjoy displaying my power.
i was getting bored.
why couldn't i just lay in the field and smell the flowers?

i was a god once.
i didn't like creating disasters, causing chaos.
father got SO sore.
i loved beauty and made the aurora borealis.

i was a god once.
father roared, "YOU WILL CREATE STORMS. YOU WILL LIKE DOING SO."
i've heard it before.
heard it again when after the storm, i made a rainbow.

i was a god once.
father said, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM GOING TO DO WITH YOU!
YOU'RE MAKING ME MAD!
JUST ONE MORE SLIP UP...ONE MORE MISTAKE...AND BOY, YOU ARE THROUGH!"

i was a god once.
i really tried to behave, to get my heart into it.
again, i was bored.
godplaying wasn't my thing--i was truly a misfit.

i was a god once.
father said, "ISN'T THIS FUN? DECIDING WHO LIVES OR DIES?"
i couldn't tell him.
he would really freak if he knew that his little god cries.

i was a god once.
father's first son was a failure. i couldn't let him down.
i really felt bad.
i couldn't fail father, he was a god of great renown.

i was a god once.
it all came to a head the day i created that storm.
i made a mistake.
i can't help it if all the lightning i'd made was deformed.

i was a god once.
i was fired when i scorched father with a lightning bolt.
so brother was hired.
and father? he says he'll never forgive me for that jolt.

i was a god. ONCE. :-)

(C) Copy written, 2004, by Karla Dorman.

The Storm In My Head

2010-10-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

Looking forward (no, i'm not) (yes,
i a m) to Storm Season, 2010 --- two
opportunities to get out (die) (will
you just shut. Up?!?) i n the wind

and rain and confront my fear once
and for all. If I could just tell these
two arguing in my head to s h u s h,
that is. One wants to go (no i don't

no i don't) (will you just be quiet
and let her tell her story?) and the
other one doesn't (see, i told you)
(i'm not going to tell you again ---).

Time I take the bull (tornado?) (oh,
my word, will you stop with the
negative attitudes?!?) by the horns
and tell it it has no power over me.

Have let it run over me for far too
long. (yeah, she's gonna go out
and meet the bear, shake its hand.)
(no, i'm not.) (see? having second

thoughts already, aren't you, aren't
you?) Alright, that's enough. I'm
going to do this, whether they're
ready to or not. Not going to waste

the rest of my life hiding every time
it thunders. (yeah, but ---) I'll do all
I can to stay safe. (yeah but -----
what if things go wrong??) (what if

they don't? think of all she'll have
to write about! she's made up her
mind. nothing you can say. might
as well sit back and enjoy the ride.)

Couldn't have said it better myself.
Thank you. (how come i always do
what she wants to do??) (because
she's the boss. THAT'S how come.)

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (12/9)

Survivor's Guilt

2010-10-27T17:29:00.000-07:00

I walk the ruined landscape of
survivor's guilt --- wishing the
storms away from here didn't
bring them on someone else,

did it? I look at the destruction
as it bursts open on TV: I feel
the pain in their eyes, sense
the weariness in their backs

as they pick up the sticks of
their lives to carry on until the
next storm comes. They are
much stronger than I could

ever be, more forgiving. Know
it's not my fault but somehow
feel responsible in some way.
My heart breaks anew ---- for

I've been where they are. Did
not lose everything I had, but
when the roof goes, so do the
feelings of safety and security.

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (4/25)

Four Lines About Lightning

2010-10-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

Elusive
Energy,
Effective
Executioner

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (7/6)

Groundhog, Dazed

2010-10-27T17:15:00.000-07:00

All snug in his burrow, the Groundhog: was
sound asleep until the !! BIG HAND !! of the
Inner Circle reached in and hoisted him up
into the artificial sun made by media spots ---

Tell us, O-Wise-and-Wonderful-Prognosticator
-of-all-things-mysterious: D o you see your
shadow? Can you say if there will be six more
weeks of Winter? Fools --- believe what you

want. He won't divulge his secrets. Poor thing
can't see past his own nose or need for rest ---
Spring will get here soon enough. Always has.
You don't need a Groundhog to tell you that. ...

(c) 2008, Revised, 2010, Karla Dorman (2/2)

The Great White ... South?

2010-10-27T17:12:00.000-07:00

... they kept coming. In waves.
One by two by thousands more,
these northern trespassers
parachuting from lead-colored
skies: they landed in the trees
and piled against the door ----
faster and faster they fell, until
we were overrun. Seasoned
weathermen were surprised at
the stealth of the attack: snow
was expected, but not this much,
especially for this part of Texas.
Over a foot ---- next morning was
picture-postcard perfect, unless
you had damage. Power lines
and trees downed everywhere.
Was one to remember, one for
the record books, the Big Dump
that did Dallas. And Fort Worth
---- two days later, it's gone, the
Great White South. Wouldn't
know there had been a war if I
hadn't said something or taken
photographs of the Invasion ...

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (2/14)

First Storm Chase

2010-10-27T17:00:00.000-07:00

Under skies, folded
in thirds and thirds
again by God's great
hand --- suddenly
humbled by His size
and Texas. How
big both are --- eyelids
skinned back in the
wind as I scan the
clouds for trouble ---
none this day. Don't think
they'll shut again,
these eyes that took in
her first storm chase ---
confronted fear and
watched the Master
paint beauty in the
expanse above. =]

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (3/24, late)

Someone Else's Storm

2010-10-27T16:50:00.000-07:00

Someone else's storm becomes
mine as I stare up into the crystal
perfection of azured skies --- my

heart breaks. Not because it's
nice here, and it is, but because
across areas of the Deep South,

others watch the roil of clouds
drop one tornado after another.
A high risk of more happening

before the day is over, continuing
through the night --- a chaser's
dream. Would much rather see

them in a large empty field instead
of in communities where people
live/work/play. The first images

from Yazoo City, Mississippi suck
tears from my eyes and prayers
from my soul --- here, the sun is

still shining, but for how long?
This is when I hate the weather,
when their storm becomes mine.

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (4/24)

Need Storms. NOW.

2010-10-27T15:06:00.000-07:00

A stormchaser needs storms. And
when there aren't any, she will make
one anywhere she can ---- even if
only in a shadow made by a tree.

Squint your eyes and tell me that
doesn't look like a tornado bearing
down. SDS isn't pretty ---- trust me.
Got me looking at nonexistant

rotation on the side of a building,
for Pete's ---- know the neighbors
are wondering about my sanity.
Fully expecting a knock at the door

from the friendly folk on the mental
health ward of the hospital. They
might give me a new jacket with
long sleeves and take me away ...

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (7/19)

Whether Or Not, Weather

2010-10-27T14:59:00.000-07:00

It all depended on the side
you were on, whether or
not you got weather. Here,

not much. East of us, too
much. The dryline moved
through just enough to

keep us clear. In other
communities, the sky fell
or blew away entirely. The

clouds were so massive,
they were seen from miles
away. You could see they

meant business. All we
had was a beautiful sunset
--- others not as fortunate.

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (10/25)

Poem, 'Playing With My Food,' (c) 2010, Karla Dorman

2010-10-27T14:53:00.000-07:00

Mom told me to stop playing
with my food. I kept making
towering Cu with them, with
backsheared anvils and
overshooting tops. Weather

was fixing to get bad. Then
it started hailing when I took
the ice out of my glass and
shot it at my annoying little
brother with my spoon. Did

not mean to pop Dad in the
eye --- that was when he
thundered, 'ENOUGH. Go
to your room.' I stomped
up the stairs, decided that

a bath was in order, if only
to watch the tornado in the
drain: 'IT'S AN F - 5!!!' Dad
issued the warning from
the kitchen: 'GO. TO. BED.'

Dried off, got under the
covers, began flicking the
lamp switch on and off ---
lightning, you know. That's
when the power went off:

Dad again. He took every
bulb from every light. Guess
I'll have to dream storms,
since it's dark. Some don't
appreciate meteorology ...

It's Been FAR Too Long ...

2010-10-27T14:52:00.001-07:00

... since I updated this blog. I'm sorry ... will get back in the swing of things! Have more storm poems and images to share. Bear with me ...

Recipe for Disaster

2009-09-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

Image of StormSpinner with her 'brew'
(c) Karen Lynn Vidra

"Recipe for Disaster"

You've heard of 'White Lightning.'
You haven't had anything yet
until you taste StormSpinner's
Homemade StormBrew.
It will make you wish you had
drunk a Hurricane, instead. =]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*Take two parts sky, fold.
*Spray the pan liberally with CAPE.
*Add wind shear.
*Remove the CAP at the triple point
of warm front/cold front/dryline.
*One drop of instability to make things pop.
*Add cauliflower towers of convection.
*Boil until the SPC issues a tornado watch,
pour into heated drinking glasses.
*Garnish with chaser convergences.
Observe the stillness of the air around you.
*Drink, until you howl. =]

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (9/14)

Trivial Pursuit (with video link) - 5/7/5

2009-09-13T17:54:00.001-07:00

ratcheted as high
as its temper will allow,
the bullying sky

it wrestles me to
the ground and shouts in my ear -

i
feel
very
small

insignificant.
a trivial pursuit whose
fate is in its hands -

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (8/28)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aji09wGFeGI

Aww, Mommmmm!! (with video link)

2009-09-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

Thunder mutters in a
growly voice, wake up. Aww,
Mommmmm, just a few more hours,
I whine. Roll over, y a n k
the covers over my
head, fully intending
on returning to the
nice dream I was having:
nothing doing. It (she?)
yells, louder and louder:
alright, already, i'm
up, I'm up, I mumble
under my breath, hoping
she doesn't hear me. Some
people like to sleep in,
particularly on
rainy mornings like this,
but she's not having it:
When I say get up, get
up - and don't roll your eyes!

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (8/21)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Sp25Cy9uCE

Confronting the Beast Once and for All

2009-09-13T17:34:00.000-07:00

Image of StormSpinner (c) 2009, Karen Vidra.

(And thank you, Aaron, for letting me
'borrow' your stormchase vehicle!!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Confronting the Beast Once and for All

i hate storms. when
they gather forces
overhead, with me as
their target, i panic and
turn a deeper shade
of chicken.

i love storms. when
they dazzle my eyes
with their power, i am
humbled by greatness.
and look - God autographed
one just for me!

i hate storms. when
i hear of their destructive
side and see the pain in
a survivor's eyes, i know:
been there. i relive mine
all over again.

i love storms. when
one allows me to take its
picture, i am thrilled.
couldn't have done this
six years ago. the fear
was bigger than me.

going on my first "real"
stormchase next spring.
scared? yes. excited?
you bet. if you can't
change the weather, look
at it through new eyes. =]

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (9/13)

If You See The Lightning and Hear The Thunder ...

2009-09-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

It's said that if you see
the lightning and hear the
thunder, it missed you. This
one a bit too close: we've
had a strange year, weather-
wise. Our severe season

began early, then got
smashed by the Death Ridge of
high pressure. This past week,
storms nearly every
day: the other morning,
rudely jolted awake

by tornado sirens.
Yesterday afternoon,
the bottom dropped out with
heavy rain and spiders
dancing silver on the sky.
Today, a positive streamer

followed by a bolt in
the parking lot followed
by nearly instant crack
that shook the camera
in my hands and my nerves ...
wonder what tomorrow holds?

(c) and Revised, 2009, Karla Dorman (8/1)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTJSim9fpD8

This Is A Drill. This is Only A Drill ...

2009-09-12T20:17:00.001-07:00

Been happening for several days,
bad weather: the air, overhead,
very unstable, primed to explode:
finally does, this morning with the
arrival of two tornadoes. One
tears through the high school;
that one, bad enough. The second
waits, gathering F-5 strength,
before shredding a neighborhood
nearby. Police/fire/EMTs/city
personnel stretched to the limits
of patience; sounds of sirens and
pain cut through the debris and
fears of another storm coming. I
don't see or hear anything: I am
unconscious, a victim of the wind
- red tagged for quick transport
to the hospital. Twin sis fares better
than me: walking wounded. It's a
scene no one wants to imagine,
but must be planned for, this full-
scale disaster drill happening today ...

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

REVISION: Life In The Alley

2009-09-12T20:09:00.000-07:00

The skies shaded in
darkening hues of terror,
clouds swollen. Pulsing ...

the wind dies. All stilled
before the chaos arrives
(where are the birds???). Red

watch boxes issued;
radars crank up; weathermen
go on high alert,

matching the high risk,
dangerous situation
building overhead.

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

you can f e e l something
wicked this way comes. Sirens
wail warbeling tones;

chasers converge on
the storm; Civil Defense and
cities in the path

rise to the challenge.
This, just another day of
life in 'The Alley.'

(c) 2007, Revised, 2009, Karla Dorman

9/11 Revisited: Fear Of Fallin

2009-09-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

Fear of Fallin ...

thru air so cold
so bit/ter it
heats on the way
d
o
w
n
(kept feet firmly
planted, rooted
to solid ground;
knew where they were
all times, all hours,
no surprises
to throw me off
the edge, screaming .. . ...).

Then came that day.
Not given a
choice: Burn. Or jump.

Hell of a note.

Man not equipped
with angel's wings.

Not created
to soar like birds.

And yet, I flew ...

(c) 2007, Revised, 2009, Karla Dorman

P.T.S.D.

2009-06-15T08:19:00.001-07:00

... nerves firing off one by one until
they all overamp: overloaded by
fear until the body shuts down
from sheer exhaustion. Desperately
wanting to confront the beast on its
own turf, but unable to get past the

memories of six tornadoes and a
roof gone over the years that have
left an indelible footprint on the
psyche. Screaming arguments
with loved ones who don't understand
the terror that comes in nightmare

and in each storm that may or may not
come -- it's in the forecast. Where
to go, where to hide?!? Underground
shelters not an option. Teeny tiny
claustrophobic sized half baths don't
count. Supercells with grapefruit

hail and twisters approaching from
the northwest galvanize feet to
action -- get a ride to the local
hospital to wait out the weather --
it's just another day of living with
Post Traumatic STORM Disorder --

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuvBVemIP1w

What a Mess

2009-06-06T18:36:00.000-07:00

The clouds, stacked neatly
on the counter of sky. There
they sit, one on top of the other,

waiting for me to put them
away. I say, Not my turn; Mom
thunders, shivering them onto my

head. Whoops. Mom made a
mess. Wanna bet the next time
she uses the paper plates, instead?

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbz-xJEpTQ0

Pre-Dawn Thunder

2009-05-24T16:52:00.001-07:00

covers of sleep pealed
back by alarm clock of light
and pre-dawn thunder

Image, (c) 2006; poem and video (c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YF0Zz6Y-Dg

When Is A Rainbow Not (4/16/09)

2009-05-24T16:44:00.000-07:00

irridescent
translucency
points eyes upward -

the Master's touch
painted with a
delicate hand -

not a rainbow.
related to
a sun's halo -

this lovely band
stretching across
the noontime skies.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=JR-UDCK5PKk

Image, poem and video (c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Or I'll Huff and I'll Puff -

2009-05-24T16:38:00.001-07:00

forward motion, stopped, except for
the trees. they're writhing under the
onslaught of wind, twisting this way
and that. the walls are shuddering,
cracking in pain, and i, within, tremble
as well, wondering if they'll hold, they
and the roof -- pray so. sounds like
it will pop off any second now -- how
long will the electricity stay on? not
long, if it keeps howling like it is -- a
wolf at the door. now i know how the
three little pigs felt in their flimsy shelters ...

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman.

Making the Best in a Bad Situation (5/7/5 format)

2009-05-24T16:20:00.000-07:00

a blood red eye glares
down through a malevolent
haze of smoke and dust -

it wants me. can see
it in its expression of
absolute hatred -

because i've been bought
by the saving Grace of love,
i do not worry -

if worse comes to worse,
i will meet my Heavenly
Father, face to face -

until then, Lord, give
me strength. You are my refuge.
You are my shelter -

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Say A Prayer

2009-05-24T16:15:00.001-07:00

Say a prayer: wildfires burning all
around, the sun hidden behind a
pall of smoke and haze. Smell of
flame heavy in the lungs, burning
eyes to red. Emergency bag is
packed, just in case. Nerves
jangle with every siren, heard: is
it us this time? And Saturday into
Sunday, could be running from
severe storms. Enough, Lord -
weary from worrying. Be with us -

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Dip

2009-04-04T15:48:00.001-07:00

The first foray into the deeps always
the worst. The tentative step in oh,
it's cold water as it tastes feet, grabs at
ankles, nibbles its way up to knee,
thigh, crotch, waist: can't do this,
can't. The back twitches as the wet
creeps further up the spine; nipples
held back by a thin resolve of color
shrivel in protest. Body shivers with
the dread of okay, now. N o w. On
three. One. Two still too -- O N E.
Two. Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
OH that's cold. Teeth are chattering,
skin turning blue and goosefleshed:
but doesn't that water feel ... g r e a t?

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Night Light[ning]

2009-04-04T15:37:00.001-07:00

Darkness, invisible -- whitewashed
pale, illuminated from without and
within for a brief, intense moment
before shrouding itself back into
secrecy. Another burst -- a storm
approaches from the West; thunder
rolls. And I, under, watch the drama
unfolding overhead: night light[ning].

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix8GY3Ruh9g

80 Degrees of Separation ...

2009-04-04T15:31:00.000-07:00

Nearly 80 degrees of separation
between the highest temperature
and the lowest in the state: 100
degrees in Brownsville, 22 in
Amarillo. In between it all, severe
storms! Blizzards!! Wind!!! A
l o t of that. Front blew in and in
three hours, the temperatures
dropped 27 degrees: from 69 to
42. No, make that 40. This is nuts
-- after the tornadoes to our north
last night, snow may accumulate
to a couple of inches along the
damage path. (Thank God, no
major injury or deaths.) We might
get a flurry or two here! Spring in
Texas. Gotta love it. Never dull:
and the temperature now? 39.2!!

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Meringue Skies

2009-04-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

Meringue: that's what the sky
reminded me of: clouds beaten,
whipped to a frenzy of activity,
overhead. Upper level dynamics
combined with a stalled front to
the south rolled in the storms
on the winds of turbulence. If
not dessert, mountains or ocean
waves. On of the strangest
(scariest, in a beautiful sort of
way) cloud formations I've seen:
and tomorrow, could do it again.

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rPKyr57v_E

Lesson Learned From Mockingbird

2009-04-04T15:21:00.000-07:00

LESSON LEARNED FROM MOCKINGBIRD

Greet each morning with -

a song in your mouth,
a smile in your heart,
a dance in your step.

Celebrate being a l i v e !!

It's a new day.
It's a new Season.
Spread your wings and fly!

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=HI5IDS3sioQ

Opalescent

2009-03-12T07:07:00.001-07:00

shimmering colors
remind me of angel's wings -
opalescent clouds

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

He Opened Up the Heavens ...

2009-03-12T07:03:00.001-07:00

The shhhhhhhhh of rain
silences all in its falling -
none dare disturb the holy
hush except a rumble of
thunder echoing through
celestial corridors of sky.

Congregants below kneel
in thanksgiving, for God
heard their cries for mercy:
He opened up the Heavens
what had been sewn shut -
beautiful, lifegiving r a i n!

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

One to Remember

2009-02-16T19:19:00.000-08:00

The sky filled with fire tonight: vivid
red, orange, yellow flames of cloud
raged against an ashen sky before
the night reluctantly put them out.
All the fire department could do was
sit by and watch as it burned itself
into our collective memories ...
this will be one to remember.

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Do Angels Cry

2009-02-15T18:51:00.001-08:00

Novenda sings a song called "Cry," one of the most haunting melodies I've ever heard. I've copied the lyrics here for you, as well as my response.

"Cry" (c) Novenda

where am i
lying in the dark
here am i
lost without a part
can they see me
can they hear me
cry
it makes me wonder
if angels cry
it makes me wonder
if angels cry
for me ....

(my response)

I hear you
lying in the dark
I see you
with every lightning spark
wanting to reach you
wanting to free you
trying ...
you ask the question
if angels cry
and let me answer
yes angels cry
for you ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJwtql6nqcA

Spring Observation (2/6/09)

2009-02-15T18:47:00.000-08:00

Ribbons of robinsound unspool
in southerly breezes. Clouds quilt
silver filaments across the blue of

sky. The sun rubs its healing balm
over the land, comforting frozen
limbs with the promise of Spring ...

(c) Karla Dorman

Tornado On Lone Grove Street, written by WKN's Tanner B.

2009-02-11T19:31:00.000-08:00

My WKN friend and fellow Burlesonite, 16 year old Tanner, wrote a poem. I share it with you.

TORNADO ON LONE GROVE STREET

The sirens go off blaringly,
No one knows what to do.
They get to the center of their house,
So they can't here the moo.

The tornado barrels through town,
The damage is immense.
A truck lies in the trees,
And not by common sense.

Daybreak comes around,
Everyone sees it all,
There is nothing left
Except for a soccer ball.

The people are devastated
Both in body and in mind,
They will rebuild soon
But not without remembering this night.

(c) 2009, Tanner Bankston

Dance With The Devil

2009-02-11T09:01:00.000-08:00

Living where we do, you'd think
underground shelter would be
mandatory: nope. Not cost-
effective or the ground shifts
too much or they flood -- have
heard all the excuses as
to why none, here. What is one
life worth? What is the price for
a little peace of mind? Too
damn much, apparently. And
so, we dance with the Devil
and pray he doesn't kill us
in the middle of the night:
what other choice do we have?!?

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

This Wasn't In The Forecast

2009-02-04T16:10:00.000-08:00

Look: up in the sky: it's a plane,
no, it's a bird, no, it's convection:
towers firing off of the dryline,
blowing the lid off of the cap like
it is nothing. Getting ready to
pop: got to. They have already
boxed us in. Just need a kicker
to set the fireworks in motion -
the instability is there, dammit.
This is the hardest part: waiting.

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (2/4)

Chaser Convergence

2009-02-02T10:06:00.000-08:00

When stormclouds poke their heads over
the horizon, a strange phenomenon occurs:
a Chaser Convergence. Eyes glued to the
latest severe weather outlooks and radar
screens, they chirp excitedly over the
possibility it could happen, making locals
nervous with talk of baseballs and tornadic
hooks. They flock together on the roads
crisscrossing the plains; you can tell them
by their hail-dented plumage. And there
they sit, biding their time, waiting for just
the right moment to take wing after the
perfect storm. Don't mind seeing them,
just don't want to see them in my backyard!

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Ice Storm!

2009-01-28T10:31:00.001-08:00

The world's longest game of "Red Light/
Green Light" outside: frozen in "stop"
position. Ice has stalled everything in its
tracks. Sidewalks are a skater's dream:
even if one doesn't know how, they will
learn or fall, trying. And forget the roads:
cars going everywhichaway but straight.
Drivers think they know how to drive on
ice: they forget ice drives them, unless
one has a Zamboni. It's slick as a whistle
out there: the weather ain't fit for man or
beast. Best to stay in on days like this ...

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

New Blog Heading

2009-01-19T19:19:00.000-08:00

I have GOT to thank my friend, Zach at WKN, for creating my header. It's AWESOME! Thank you!

Now THIS looks like a StormSpinner's Blog. :) Appreciate it!!

Karla.

SDS

2009-01-19T06:03:00.001-08:00

... hard to maintain cool-osity when
the weather a death-ridge of non-
activity: high pressure entrenched.

Wake up to clear conditions, go to
bed to same: nothing in the forecast
discussion to indicate change. Hard

to chase when the gear shift stuck
in neutral: want to go, go, GO!!
Storm, down season in full swing ...

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman (1/19)

B u s t e d !!

2009-01-16T16:48:00.000-08:00

Pulled out camera, pointed it upward. Sky
was furious: must have gotten out of the
wrong side of the cloud, then stumped its
toe. It muttered a curse under its breath:
could have sworn it said something about
my mother and trucks. Reminded it that I
had video and audio capabilities and that it
was under oath: one chase that was a bust. =]

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Spring's Artistry

2009-01-16T16:41:00.000-08:00

Under a blanket of white,
Spring waits for the moment to
Burst forth. Life, temporarily stilled.
But when it happens, it will blossom in a
Thousand shades of color, a sight w e l c o m e d
For those weary of Winter's monochromatic brush ...

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

H o p e (5/7/5 Format)

2009-01-06T09:50:00.000-08:00

The pulse of life throbs
even though Winter would kill ...
renewal of Spring

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

IceStorm (5/7/5 Format)

2009-01-06T09:45:00.000-08:00

stenciled against dark
poetry etched on the night
with a frosted pen

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

And No Hazard Pay!

2009-01-06T09:38:00.000-08:00

The sky is furious: it mutters and
stomps around, feet making a
fearsome noise. It throws pillowed
clouds aside in its fury, tossing them
into the four winds. And I, under,
duck, while capturing its tantrum in
poetry, photography, and now, video:
a PorchChaser's job is never done.

(c) 2009, Karla Dorman

Delivered

2009-01-06T09:27:00.000-08:00

... for years, thunder roared, imbuing
nights with terror, crocheting days into
knots of fear so tight I couldn't unravel
one from another. Black skies snarled
with paleness of cowardice does not a

pretty afghan make. The chains were
uneven, most showing the reverse of
Nature: the ugly, phobic side. Wasn't
until a camera, prayer and the hook of
poetry delivered the beauty in Storm,

allowing me to gain control of my life.
Look close for the purple threads of
lightning; feel the gentle cover of wind
against your body. Instead of dwindling
away, I now praise Him when it rains!

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Storms Before Breakfast

2008-12-27T19:02:00.000-08:00

The sky so massive, so full of
wind, it wants to blow me over
as it gathers overhead. I stand

fast, camera in hand, rocking
with each gust: a mere feather
compared to its power. The

clouds roll: I roll right along
with them, dodging each punch:
boxing never felt so good.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

First Christmas Without Daddy

2008-12-24T17:51:00.001-08:00

Dear Daddy,

What's it like up there? All I know,
lonely down here. No decorations:
don't really feel like celebrating, not
without you. You loved this time of
year: remember the tree that was
too big to fit in the living room? And
when we were eight years old: look!
Santa's bootprints leading from the
fireplace to the table where we had
laid out his snacks and milk to the
tree and back again: what a m e s s
Mommy had to clean up. That was
you, wasn't it, wanting to make it a
Christmas to remember? Forty one
years later, still do. The expression
on Karen's face when she saw that
polar bear: didn't need the flash on
the camera, the way the light from
her smile filled the room. Of course,
older sister ruined it, saying there
was no such thing as Santa. But I
still believe ... when I moved away,
the calls, telling me it was snowing:
haven't seen a White Christmas in
forever. Telling me you loved and
missed me: not half as much as I
miss you, Daddy. Especially now.
My tears the only present I can
give you: say Hello to Jesus for me.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Happy Birthday, Jesus

2008-12-24T17:45:00.001-08:00

In the midst of the holiday crush/
rush to buy, buy, buy, we forget
the Real Reason for the Season:

a loving Father sent us the First
Gift of Christmas. It came, not
in fancy paper, topped off with a

bow. It was found in a manger,
wearing swaddling clothes. It
was given free, although it cost

the Father all He had. He loved
us so much. The Gift: the birth of
a Savior. Happy Birthday, Jesus.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

The Skies Have Eyes

2008-12-24T17:38:00.001-08:00

... even though storms have been
watching me for forty nine years,
this is the first time I stared back
with bold eye of video. It couldn't
do much but flicker nervously in
the distance and try to knock me
down with wind: thunder hadn't
arrived yet, nor the rain. Chasers
have to start somewhere: for me, it
was in the Wal*Mart parking lot.
Better late than never, eh? Walked
right up to fear, introduced myself
and took its picture: this is
what it looks like on camera: as
scared as I used to be. The skies
have eyes and now I do, too ... =]

www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOhj3UrevlM

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

How To Chase Without Really Trying

2008-12-24T17:26:00.000-08:00

... my heart races along with
the clouds, beating as fast as
the wind rocking the vehicle.
Adrenaline sizzles nerves like
lightning; tension thunders as
loudly as Reed is screaming,

"Back UP!!!!" The finale of
Storm Chasers on Discovery:
way too intense. Couldn't do
it. Why I watch on TV and
chase off the front porch: it's
safer and close to shelter. =]

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Dim Bulbs

2008-11-03T08:32:00.001-08:00

There's nothing left of America for
God to bless: no matter who wins,
we all lose. Have never seen such
division - united? Hardly. Seperated

by race/culture/belief - all for one and
all for ... themselves. Certainly not
for all, because someone offends.
Want to take care of the rest of the

world, can't take care of our own --
here -- in our backyard. Compassion
gone the way of God and Christmas --
there isn't one. Not MINE, anyway,

because HE stepped on one too many
toes. Out of sight, out of mind? Seems
that way. Apathy rules the land: anger
and sadness rising faster than the stock

market's plunge into the deeps. Looking
for the Light but dim bulbs let it burn out:
and we're electing more tomorrow! They
say He's coming. NOW would be good ....

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

REMEMBER: For Our Veterans: Three Poems

2008-11-03T08:22:00.000-08:00

REMEMBER: For Our Veterans: Three Poems

SERVED

Served his country. Brought home
medals to show what he did, left
his mind, his innocence behind:
it wasn't enough.

Served her Nation. Did not face
the hell of war, but paid in other
ways, with injury. Still in pain --
it wasn't enough.

SERVED. All that matters. They
didn't sacrifice to be forgotten:
what they did. What they do:
m o r e than enough.

WAR IS HELL II

... tried looking him in the eyes. Mine
keep wandering to where legs should
be. Used to tower over me, now half

my height, in a wheelchair. Thoughts
inside worm out: "Did it hurt? Do you
regret serving your country?" His reply

snaps back, as quick and razor-sharp
as a salute: "Your country, too. Better
me than you or one of your children."

WHO IS THE ENEMY - THEY OR I?

Your hatred of me runs down my
cheek, slime hawked along with a
name: Babykiller.

Your protest of me runs hot in my
veins, anger thrown like bombs
designed to maim and kill.

And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for the enemy to use their own as
incendiary devices.

And yet it is perfectly acceptable
for our men to be charged with
crimes against humanity.

The double standard must stop.

all (c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

Get Real

2008-10-23T03:09:00.001-07:00

from one who can't
afford
$150,000.00 on clothes
or lobster dinners:

get real.

try living on
next to
nothing or deciding if food more important
than paying bills:

get real.

Veterans should
not be
living on the streets and neither should the children --
in America:

get real.

Get down in the
dirt where
the real people are scrabbling hand to mouth in a
world gone horribly wrong:

get REAL.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Disturbing the Peace

2008-10-14T09:57:00.001-07:00

... was that thunder? [The
sudden dropped sound heard
bouncing through hallowed
shushed, book-lined shelves: the
one the library
lady snaps at to
"Be quiet!" Eyes look
around, searching for
the guilty party:
it isn't me. I'm
on the Internet.
The offending one
will not admit --- there
it is, again.] Yes.
Thunder. [Didn't Mom
say we were supposed
to be like church mice?
She's not practicing
what she's preaching: I
ain't gonna tell her.]

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Listen To The Rhythm of the Falling Rain ...

2008-10-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

It sounded like the sky fell, the
way it avalanched through the roof and
into the room. The walls, bleached
pale, bowed out, snapped back, as
did my ears. Forgot what thunder
sounded like: been a while since
we've had rain. RAIN. Rolled over,
closed my eyes, went back to sleep.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

Sewing It Up

2008-10-14T09:39:00.001-07:00

... zigzag stitching around the
eyewall unravels with a
giggle of thunder. The clouds
unleash their stuffing which falls

in a flood of frustration.
Scissors of wind snip away
at my nerves as fast as I
sew them up: what a mess. Spent

the last six weeks on it. Can't
say I haven't tried: but the
beams are all crooked! The front
of the house is longer than

the back (that was the hard part).
Home-Ec teacher's going to
be mad: this looks nothing at
all like the McCall's pattern ....

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Anvil Crawler, OR: One Of A Kind (Original Artwork)

2008-10-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

The Creator knew what
He was doing when He
painted storm on sky --
the entire surface was
His canvas, and I, the
one who watched Him
working.
He pulled lightning from
the top of the anvil and
s.crawled His Name in
silver: He gave the print
to me to hang in my room,
a present from the Master.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Why I Had To Do It

2008-10-14T08:30:00.001-07:00

... hear the wind picking up. A mutter of thunder. Look
out of the apartment, what do I see? A madswirl of
gathering forces, pointing into a funnel --- ohhhhh,
dang. So do I do what smart people do, head
for shelter? Nope --- grab the camera. And
twin sis screams, "What are you doing?!?"
as I take the last two images of what may
be my undoing. She yells: "G E T.
In. This. House. Right. NOW!!"
Me: "Just one more picture!"
She is f u r i o u s, wanting
to wrap crutches around
my neck. But I get the
pictures I wanted:
see, it's like this
--- you can take
the girl out of
the chaser
but not
the
chaser out of the girl. Have to face my fear sometime.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Delete, Delete, Delete [Trying To Capture Lightning On Film]

2008-10-14T08:06:00.000-07:00

... the trials of trying to capture
lightning: camera poised and
ready. Click and shoot, shoot
--- missed. Time delay did not
time to flash. Try again. Miss.

Again. Miss! Delete, delete:
well, of course, a pretty anvil
crawler crawls across the sky
while deleting. Okay. This one
I'll --- nope. M i s s e d. Will sit

here forever, have the patience
of Job --- oh! Got one! Thank
You, Lord (even though it was
just a bright behind-the-cloud,
lovely just the same). Let's get

another. Miss. MISS! Grrrrrrr:
delete, delete (how many have
I taken? Least a hundred). Just
one OH! Got it: a teeny, tiny
spider spinning its web from

right to left --- let me have one
more --- m i s s e d. Miss. Aww,
nuts: batteries died (why don't
they last as long as it took to
charge the durn things?). The

life of a StormSpinner trying to
chase lightning, get it on film,
wondering why my images do
not compare with other chasers
who make it look effortless ...

delete. Delete. Delete: dang.
Erased all but five. Next storm
comes, you'll find me out in the
elements, trying one more time
... really need a new camera.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

I'll Be Back (For Jill Eisnaugle)

2008-09-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

My friend, Jill Eisnaugle, lives in southeast Texas, not far
from Houston and Galveston. She had to evacuate for
Hurricane Ike. She spent anxious moments in East Texas,
waiting for the storm to pass. Word arrived that although
her house sustained roof and chimney damage, the walls
and windows remained intact. She's back home now.
__________________________________________
... waiting. That's all that can be done,
until the word comes, you can go
home again. Do I have one or
not? Worrying: what do they know

and are not saying? Is it bad
or not? Looking at T.V., it
is. Can't watch, but unable to
turn away. Must see. Who got hit

and who didn't? ... Word came today:
house damaged, but have one. Could be
worse: rof and chimney is all, thank
the Lord. Think of the poetry

I'll have to write when this is through!
Hurricanes penned in perfect rhyme
and meter. Will be back as soon
as I can. Just gonna take time ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Two Sides to Every Story ...

2008-09-27T21:06:00.000-07:00

...while others are running away, there
are those headed toward: chasers, to
warn of the approaching danger, who
film the storm's soundtrack, recording the
effect of surge and wind. Disaster
teams, doctors, nurses, those who have a
love for animals, firemen, police:
heroes, all, determined to meet the
needs of those impacted after the
hurricane passes. That's the good side.

And then there is the funny side: the
reporters, backs turned against the howl,
suddenly experts in the field of
meteorology. The are the
ones who take it on the chin, who do
unexpected variations of
"the wave" without meaning to, who fall
over themselves trying to get the
top story of the day from their lips
straight to our ears: that's entertainment.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

(Y)Ike!: Hear You Knocking But You Can't Come In ...

2008-09-13T11:47:00.001-07:00

... first rainbands wetting us; the
wind not far behind: Hurricane
(Y)Ike! getting ready to beat
down the door. Not answering:
hear you knockin' but you can't
come in. Worse than one of
those salesmen selling magazines:
no one invited you. Go away ....

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Ike: Ragged Edge of Nervousness

2008-09-12T09:35:00.000-07:00

... on his way, Hurricane Ike. His
edge peeks over the horizon,
bringing fear along with those who
have left in advance of the storm.

More expected. Already pounding
the coast with wave and wind ...
Galveston. Water over the seawall,
exploding high into the air. Oh,

Galveston! We're too far inland to
feel the surge, but our own in the
forecast: up to four inches of wet;
flash flood watches in anticipation.

Wind: hurricane force as close as
one county south; tropical, here
and elsewhere. 800 miles across.
Lot of storm before it's done: pray.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

9/11: Over The Years

2008-09-11T08:42:00.001-07:00

9/11: Over the Years

2001: i cannot believe it

i just cannot
believe it...it
wasn't supposed
to happen...but
there it is...on
the t.v. set...
at first i thought
it was just a
movie...one of
those action flicks...
but this time the
explosions were
real...the horror
is real...awful
images brand
themselves into
my mind...i will
never sleep well
again...and i
can't believe the
twin towers were
attacked by planes...
the pentagon
was also hit...and
another plane
crashed short of its
target...this is
insane...it is hard
to fathom...i
can't believe it...
too many died...
innocents that
did nothing to
you...who should still
be here with us...
their families...
but you took them
from us and i
want to know why...
can't believe it...
someone's father...
someone's mother...
someone's brother...
someone's sister...
someone's children...
someone's friends and
co-workers...our
hero police and
firefighters...
missing...more than
likely dead...this
has touched us all...
buildings damaged...
buildings destroyed...
utter chaos...
devastation...
can't believe it...
i'll remember...
never forget...

2002: One World, One Minute

one world/one minute
all were affected by the events of that day
one world/one minute
excluded no one - the whole world watched in dismay
one world/one minute
we were forever united by tragedy
one world/one minute
affecting all nations, cultures...humanity

2003: Hear My Voice

i speak
for those who have no voice
i speak
for those who had no choice
i speak
for those who are not here
i speak
for those who cry the tears
i speak
for those whose loved ones died
i speak
for those buried inside
i speak
for the ones who were there
i speak
for those who still feel scared
i speak
so you will not forget
i speak
i
i
i remember it, yet

2004: Learning To Cope

i sit here, replaying it over
and over. i don't need the t.v.
to bring it all rushing back - once was
enough. it haunts my nights and lives in
my words, images and emotions
displayed. something i must write about ...

2005: I Still Fall

The sidewalks
rush up to meet me;
the sky
shimmers endless blue;
the canyons
echo with the names
as I fall
into rememberance...
and even
after all these years,
I still fall,
trying to forget.

2006: Nightmares, Revisited

Dark poems
interrupt the expanse
of blue skies;
falling like ashes, like
tears -
the beginning of pain.

Grey poems
are bruises of the heart,
deep seated
reminders of what we'd
give -
anything to forget.

White poems
interrupt the darkness
of slumber,
flitting overhead like
bats -
nightmares, revisited.

2007: Fear of Fallin'

... through air so cold,
so bit/ter it
heats on the way
d
o
w
n,
kept feet firmly
planted, r o o t e d
to solid ground.
K n e w where they were,
all times, all hours -
no surprises
to throw me off
the edge, screaming -
then came that day
in September:
not given a
choice: burn or jump.

Died, anyway:
man was not meant
to be a bird.

2008: Words Fail ...

Words fail ...

Images
burned
on
the
screens
of our eyes.

Memories
of
what
we
lost
linger.

Remember.
Words
fail
in
these
moments of ...

silence.

Storm Stew

2008-09-07T12:47:00.001-07:00

She took down some cloud from the
shelf and folded the sky in two: one
half clear, the other clotted with wind

and rain. She stirred the whole thing
with a lightning bolt, until it thundered
---she vaguely remembered her Mom

telling her that it was when it could get
tricky. About that time, she heard a
sound behind her: it was only Daddy.

He sniffed the air and said, "Is that
what I think it is? Storm Stew?" She
pushed him out of the kitchen: "You

ruined the surprise! You've been
working so hard and I wanted to do
something nice." All of a sudden,

something flew past her ear and
stuck into the wall! Oh, no...her
mother's warning came back clearly

now: you have to be careful how you
stir, Daughter. Too little and it will boil
over; too much and chaos will result.

Either way, there's going to be a mess.
She, with Daddy in tow, ran back into
the kitchen. A tornado greeted them,

a BIG one, the largest they'd ever seen.
If it got loose...folks s t i l l talked about
'96 like it had happened only yesterday.

And that's why they hadn't eaten Storm
Stew in a while. Daddy took off his
coat (a prodigious size) and waved it

in front of the twister. She couldn't help
it: she began to laugh: what did Daddy
think he was, a bullfighter or something?

He was trying to shoo it back into the
pot, but it wanted nothing to do with it.
Besides, the tornado had other plans ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Don't Mind ...

2008-09-07T12:43:00.001-07:00

Don't Mind ...

... the rain scenting the air with cool
refreshment, slaking the thirst of
parchedness. Don't mind lightning
or thunder putting on a display to
rival the 4th of July. Don't mind the
wind absorbing the stagnancy of
Summer heat. It's when they gather
forces overhead, with "War of the
World" skies, catching weathermen
off guard: it's when they toss hail like
softballs, when they drop a tornado
to ruin the afternoon...then I mind.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Celebrity Status

2008-09-07T08:49:00.000-07:00

...get rid of one, here comes another
to take its place. Lined up like dominoes,
waiting in the wings for their chance to appear
onstage. What is it they want? Front
page headlines in six point type? Breaking
news coverage on all of the TV stations? First
names so recognizable they don't need
last ones to know who they are? Photogs
hovering, even satellites getting caught up in
the excitement trying to catch a glimpse
of their eye? Tropical systems must have one
hell of an agent for all of the press they're getting...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Time Will Tell

2008-08-31T20:07:00.001-07:00

There ...

... the streets are ghosts, haunted memories
of Last Time lingering. Nothing moves
except rain, lashing sideways on the
wind, and reporters. Always them, bent
on capturing the storm. How bad will
it get? Hopefully, not a repeat.

Here ...

... will we, who are far enough inland,
feel the effects? Depends on the track:
Last Time, all we got were clouds. Time will
tell. If it meanders further north
than expected, we could have heavy
rain, maybe severe weather. Pray not ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

Lives On Hold

2008-08-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

... nerves so brittle they
could snap just like that,
wondering ... waiting ...
watching the weather
reports to see the
latest forecast track.

Is he eyeballing
us, wanting to make
our property his
or will he miss? We're
prepared for the worst,
hoping for the best ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

How I Became the StormSpinner

2008-08-27T09:37:00.001-07:00

Who knew I would become the
StormSpinner. Bad clouds used
to thunder me out of bed with their
vivid flashes of lightning prophesying
my imminent doom.

Wanted to be a meteorologist
but fear of storm drove me down
the basement everytime it rained--
some brave weatherman I'd turn out to
be. Forecast: Panic!!

One blizzard, two indirect strikes
from lightning, three (or was it four?)
floods and remnants of a Category Five
Camille later, joined the service, moved to:
Tornado Alley.

And it's lived up to its name: six,
now. All have been weak, but when
the roof goes, does strength matter??
One it's gone, puppy's gone. Don't have to
chase: the storms find me.

A day of disaster was my salvation:
from ashy, tear-stained skies, poetry
began to fall: no shelter to hide within.
All I had: four walls of words and pictures
to help me survive.

Have been spinning storms, since. I
stall their forward progress, one stanza,
one image at a time, attempting to give the
extended to end the terror once and for all--
you're reading it, now.

(c) 2008

Electric Skies

2008-08-10T23:23:00.000-07:00

Night skies, electric, charged with more
energy than I'll ever have.
Bolt after bolt, one climbing the
stepped leader of the previous,
nearly continuous. Pupils
shrink from the assault of light; ears
fold under thunder's weight ... but what
a write I'll have in the morning!!

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

The Creator's Morning

2008-08-02T19:06:00.001-07:00

Thread lightning through needle, take
sky into My lap for a morning of sewing.
Hard making storms -- careful! Don't
overfill: clouds rip very easily. A bit
more thunder and rain and -- t h e r e.
Perfect. Now to align their dark edges
to fit against the striations of purple
and green: will be pretty once I get it
done. And then I'll stretch it across
the Heavens and watch the Humans
freak: except for a select few, they
don't know how much work I put into
this. They wouldn't know beauty if it
came, slapped them upside the head ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Don't Have To Chase ...

2008-08-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

"Don't Have To Chase ..."

... storms chase me, following me into
my own backyard, searching for the
entryway to the cellar of my fear,
hidden deep within. Telling them to
go away does no good: they'll laugh
in your face with moisture-laden
breath and continue to beat at the
door. I stand on the other side,
pushing against the forces wanting
in. They are stronger; feet slipping;
can't hold on much longer. Eyes snap
open like shutters to greet the ... sun?

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Belly of the Beast

2008-08-02T08:49:00.001-07:00

... get an eyeful as it hovers
over me, growling low in its
throat. Want to escape, but
legs won't work: paralyzed
by fear. Feel its teeth now,
smell its foetid breath (hint
of ozone). One chomp! and
swallow later, all is dark as
I enter the belly of the beast:
not the way I wanted to die.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

HAAWWWTTTT!

2008-08-02T08:45:00.000-07:00

Pavement and I are one,
melted together in
a miasma of heat.

Sweat running down my face
liquifies the asphalt
so it sticks to my feet ---

hot out there. Cannot wait
for Autumn; will be the
first one out there to greet

its arrival. Until
then, I get to know part
of South West Thomas Street ...

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Why'd She Come In Here, Looking Like That?

2008-08-02T08:37:00.000-07:00

Churning her hips in the darkness,
no one can see her dangerous dance
over the waters. She peels out of
her clouds and throws them into the
wind. Who cares if it's raining ---
she adores the feel of wet on her
skin. Dolly opens her eye and laughs:
she wants nothing more than to press
man against her voluptuous bosom ...
one last memory before they die.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

On The Inside, Screaming Out

2008-08-02T08:30:00.000-07:00

It gets into you, the storm
raging outdoors: the high
sc.raping of the wind shoving
furniture and things around
upstairs, the hail-laced rain
sounding like buckshot on
the walls of courage suddenly
gone sour and on the floors
of the heart. Storm parks in
the handicapped zone (because
that is what you have become,
paralyzed, pull-the-cloth-out-
from-under played with your spine),
engine idling, thrumming so loud
God can't hear your cries for
mercy: no more! No more!! And
then, the sun, the awakening to
discover this was only a dream?!??

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Dud

2008-07-05T19:07:00.001-07:00

The big letdown wasn't sex
or fireworks. It was words:
mine.
The Muse not at fault. She
lit a fire under me and I put
them
down faithfully, as quick as
I could, backed off to a safe
distance,
and waited for the show to
start: and there it fizzled--
died.
Damnit. Another dud ... it
figures I'd write the rotten
one
in the group. So what do I
do now? Try once more or
quit?

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman (7/5)

Red, White and BOOM!

2008-06-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

The anticipation of waiting
for full dark, for the lighting of red,

white and BOOM! of fireworks. The parades,
the picnics melted into July's

heat; the cool of eve refreshes as
families gather in one accord

to celebrate freedom and what it
means, to remember those still fighting,

those who've served for the 4th and ev'ry
day. Never forget as each mortar

thuds skyward and bursts overhead in
a salute for peace, brought to you free

at a price many paid too much for...
Now - sit back. The show's about to start.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

Carnival Come To Town!

2008-06-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

Weary. The rusted bones can barely
hold up the weight of those wanting
one last scream of fun before the
carnival leaves town. The pennants
droop into the dirt; the air dusty with

the last aromas of cotton candy and
fried foods lingers in the nose. The
barkers shout last try last try to win
a prize; the ride operators run their
charges in their sleep. Bone tired.

But after the carnival closes for the
last time, new life: as the Midway
comes down, it is born again down the
road: bigger. Brighter. Better than
ever! New paint; new bulbs; carnival

come to town! Exciting attractions
everywhere you turn; eyes can't get
enough. Stomach fills itself on this-
can't-be-good-for-you-but-it's-sooo-
delicious! Time for the Tilt-A-Whirl,

no, the Scrambler, no, the Zipper, no,
I wanna ride the Twister! Let your
food settle first: Aww, MOM! You're
taking away all our - above all the
frolic are the memories of childhood.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Goodbye, Forty Eight, Helloooo, Forty NINE

2008-06-29T08:36:00.000-07:00

... held onto you as long as I
could, but you were too slippery -
you slid through my fingers and fell
on the floor. Body too old to
bend over, pick up, so must leave
you where you are. Going to be
strange, when asked, "How old?" to answer
in higher numbers than I'm used
to saying. Goodbye, forty eight,
helloooo, forty NINE. (Nearly a
half century: ahhh, now why did
I have to think of it like that??)

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Fractured Fairy Tale (Poem 2,500!)

2008-06-29T08:23:00.000-07:00

ONCE

there was an old woman
who wrote so many poems
she didn't know what to do.

She labored! She sweated!
In pain she brought them forth: this
the only life that she knew --

they arrived in a rush
of tears, singly, at first. Then
they started coming in twos --

these babies of hers. And
then more and more, all fathered
by an overactive Muse

who sat back while she slaved
over the page. No rest for
the weary; she has no clue

on where to find it -- so,
let her present number two
thousand five hundred to you!

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Three More For My Daddy - I Miss You!

2008-06-29T08:10:00.000-07:00

FROZEN

Could rewind to before, when
I still had him in my life -
when I could hear him, smell
him, fear him and love him -
watch busted. Numbers frozen,
stuck forever on May 28. The
memories sweep through my mind
like a second hand and stare
like hours from the mirror - I
am my Daddy's girl. Not big
and strong like he was, keeping
time - I miss him so very much -

THE FATHER KNOWS

A little girl cries
because her Daddy
passed away not too
long ago. She feels
lost. Alone. Frightened
without his presence,
near. This is when she
feels Heavenly arms
enveloping her
with a gentle hug,
a reminder from
a Father Who, from
experience, knows
what it's like to grieve ...

FATHER.LESS

... the happy sounds of celebrating
as children everywhere fete their
Daddies, giving cards, ties, other gifts
in appreciation. What about
those that don't have paternal guidance
or their loved one has passed on? We, the
father.Less. It's just another day
to be reminded that they're not here ....

all (c) 2008, Karla Dorman

Whaaaat? Me? 49??!??

2008-06-24T09:46:00.000-07:00

Whaaaat? Me? 49??!??

... not YET. Don't rush things. Have
a couple more days before that age
arrives on my doorstep. Going to
make the most of forty eight while I
still can: won't see that any more
after Thursday. Another year come
and gone --- where does the time ...
go? Can tell you --- went the way of
the dinosaurs. Look in the mirror, a
stranger stares back. Who is she?
She's so --- old. Not ancient, but not
young, either. Some wrinkles. Grey
in the hair. Mean, she looks familiar,
but --- oh, my --- she. IS. Me! Not
complaining: wasn't expected to live
past birth. Grateful to be here. But:
Whaaaat? Me? 49??!?? Knew it
was coming but it got here too fast!

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

Needed: Monster Slayer

2008-06-24T09:41:00.000-07:00

The air so still, so heavy, so ---
yellow. Matches the chicken
streak down my spine, closes
'round the throat with hands of

fear. Not again: this is my life,
running from storms, both real
and imagined: just one time, I
would like to run toward: feet

programmed to turn the other
way, looking for somewhere to
hide. Never liked terror-filled
skies, full of light and noise ---

always had Mommy and Daddy
to hold me. Compared to the
monsters on the Plains, those
of youth were nothing: these

guys are serious: their mouths
roaring with wind and rain, arms
pitching hail and tornadoes,
reaching out to snag my ankles,

determined to pick me up: my
parents can no longer save me.
Have to confront the monsters
on my own: just don't know how.

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.

The Ogress Chronicles: Dinner Is Served

2008-06-24T09:34:00.000-07:00

(As ever, for Charlie and Cryssa)
---------------------------------
Daddy rolled his eyes when he
saw his little girl piling clouds
like potatoes on his plate. Higher
and higher the towers went until
the touched Heaven's ceiling; the

tops spread out in anviled beauty
in the last light of sunset. She had
always had a flair for the dramatic
--- she got that from her mother,
as well as her purple velvet eyes.

She hummed as she worked, a
study in concentration: she wanted
it to be perfect, since she ruined
Father's Day: she still felt bad
about getting the car stuck in four

tornado holes. She'd already
made pea soup and the meatloaf
was just about done. Clouds would
be a wonderful side dish. There!
Finished! She turned around, and

there he was, tears running down
his face. She never loved him more
than she did at that moment --- she
gave him a hug that lasted forever
and then said, "I'm starving, let's eat!"

(c) 2008, Karla Dorman.