Helene Castles: ‘Storm’ and ‘When the Bubble Bursts’

Storm

Listen
as the lightning-burst
trips the thunder’s power-strip,
spins the rustic rooster,
upon the weather vane,
striking in transmission
Spirit of the Plain.

Watch
as the lightening-fork
punctuates the earth’s floor,
flashing gold theatrics
crush the storm’s vein,
streaming from the aether
a silver shower of rain.

Wait
to hear the thunder-roll
clapping in the cloud-form,
applauding with vibration,
rumble, roar and wane,
lowered arc of rainbow,
consecrates the rain.

Helene Castles

When the Bubble Bursts

The probing impulse punctures the allure
of words that breathe, the breath within resounds,
a theme, that seemed so blindingly obscure,
emerges, new and robust and rebounds;

a strident force that panders to the truth,
removes the doubt and subjugates the fears,
to link the Spring with misty dreams of youth,
the mind, in conquest, seizes and reveres

some lofty words, that simmer slow and age,
reduced in time by human sense, or fact,
a back foot, firmly planted on the stage,
to hold and keep the vagrant words intact:

to stream and shape, to temper or rescind
’til bubbles spill their colours in the wind.

Helene Castles