This is such a cool poem. 
The rhythm and rhyming reads so smoothly--thumbs up.
A Quiet Storm
When miles into the sky
or miles down below
beckons a longing deep inside
of mysteries unknown
How the rain in heavy thunders
provides a still and subtle shelter
how in a raging wind
there is a calmness in which i cannot falter
In ways I still don't understand
that crisp, cold morning breeze
on which alone one could thrive
with the rustling of trees
It is the source of inner silence
which purifies the collecting thoughts
that clutter my mind like wild geese
forever in search of greener spots
It is water to the soul
cooling and crystal clear
as refreshing as a breath subdued
and the champion over fear.
This is Weirdo, here with a review for review day. The usual stuff-
Please know that nothing in this review is meant to offend you or your work. This is just my opinion, you and other readers and reviewers could disagree. You also might want to completely ignore this, after all, it's just the opinion of a random person in the middle of somewhere. Sorry if I miss read something or misunderstood something and pointed it in the review. I didn't have the time to go through the previous reviews, so sorry if I repeat something already said.
That being said, let's get into this review.
I really like the poem's flow and word usage. I also like the theme the poem is set in. Good job.
When miles into the sky
or miles down below
It is water to the soul
cooling and crystal clear
as refreshing as a breath subdued
and the champion over fear.
Hi, OneGuy! Here for a Review Day review (somehow I'm on a roll here. Perhaps it's because I haven't reviewed in a while, and the saying goes "absence makes the heart grow fonder" 
)
I was mouthing the words to myself here and was enjoying the rhythm that went on. And the theme, too. How something natural like a storm can keep you true peace. We humans are of nature after all, and we find solace in it, I believe. There's also a touch of rhyme here, like *almost* rhyme, and I don't mind too much. My favorite poet Emily Dickinson had iambic rhythm and her rhyme wasn't perfectly strict. I think the not-exactness bestows personality in the poem.
that crisp, cold morning breeze
on which alone one could thrive
Once someone I know in real life and I were talking about the essayist and children's book author E. B. White. She told me that, in an essay of White's, he mentioned how much he liked to carry around Thoreau's book Walden. Once White included a quote about how Thoreau loved the morning air. I could be slightly wrong though, because my memory is pretty faulty. Just some tidbit. 
how in a raging wind
there is a calmness in which i cannot falter
In ways i still dont understand
that crisp, cold morning breeze
Hi, it's ajit,
it was beautiful or simply nice. the word placements to express the thought that you had is amazing. the intense of the poem is quite pain full which made me numb. Keep writing good things and all the best.
thanks.
Hi, it's ajit,
it was beautiful or simply nice. the word placements to express the thought that you had is amazing. the intense of the poem is quite pain full which made me numb. Keep writing good things and all the best.
thanks.
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