Author: whispersofthesoul.org

Furious Milton

He rises from the sea with a breath of fire,
A furious force, born of wind and desire.
Hurricane Milton, cloaked in swirling might,
Turns day into shadow, swallows the light.

The Gulf whispers warnings through the midnight air,
A calm before chaos, a silent prayer.
Tampa Bay trembles as the waters swell,
The heart of the storm, a beast from hell.

He dances on waves with reckless grace,
A twisting, roaring, unrelenting chase.
Palm trees bow in humble plea,
While rooftops shudder, unmoored, set free.

The sky grows heavy, burdened with rain,
The winds howl out like a wolf in pain.
Milton’s eye, a gaze cold and clear,
Spares no mercy, brings only fear.

But in the storm, we find our fight,
The human spirit, steadfast and bright.
For though he rages, we stand our ground,
A lifetime storm, but we won’t back down.

So let him roar, let the tempest rise,
We’ll weather the storm under Florida skies.
For when the winds still, and the clouds disperse,
We’ll rebuild, stronger, from nature’s curse.

Hurricane Milton, you may have your day,
But Tampa’s heart will never sway.
Through storm and surge, through wind and rain,
We’ll rise once more, unbroken again.

Written by Scott Randy Gerber for Whispers of the Soul © 2024 All Rights Reserved.

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Becoming Floridian

To become a Floridian is not just to stay,
It’s more than a move, it’s more than a day.
It’s waking each morning to a sky kissed with gold,
Where the warmth in the air has a spirit so bold.

You first feel it softly, like the ocean’s slow tide,
As the salt and the breeze wrap your soul from inside.
You know that it’s coming, this change deep within,
When the rhythm of life lets the real you begin.

It’s the sun on your skin that no longer burns,
But feels like an old friend to whom you return.
You stop checking forecasts, the rain’s just a sigh,
A soft summer shower that sweeps through the sky.

You learn to be patient with nature’s wild show,
For hurricanes teach what Floridians know:
That storms, like in life, will come and will go,
But you weather them calmly, with peace in your soul.

The sea speaks to you in its shimmering hues,
A turquoise so vibrant, a blanket of blues.
You walk barefoot now on the white, sandy shores,
And the ocean’s song echoes in your core.

But it’s not just the beaches, the palm trees, or sun,
It’s the lazy lagoon where the manatees run.
The gators you spot by the roadside so still,
The feel of the bay when the evening is chill.

It’s when you stop rushing and learn to take pause,
When you chat with your neighbor just because.
When a sunset is more than the close of a day,
But a masterpiece painted in pink, gold, and gray.

You’ll know you’ve become part of this coastal land,
When a boat feels like home, and the beach feels like sand.
When you crave citrus sweet like a kiss on your tongue,
And the heat feels like love from the Earth’s beating drum.

It’s the call of the herons, the flight of the cranes,
The lazy canals and the warm summer rains.
The buzz of the festivals, the burst of parades,
And the nights where the starlight will never quite fade.

It’s eating fresh grouper, and Key lime for pie,
Learning to slow down, letting life pass you by.
When flip-flops become your everyday wear,
And you start feeling salt in the soft evening air.

When you dance in the rain, let your worries be free,
And sip sweet mojitos by the edge of the sea.
When you laugh with the locals, and call them your own,
You’ll know in your heart that Florida’s home.

So becoming a Floridian isn’t one single thing,
It’s the way that the sunshine can make your heart sing.
It’s a life of sweet freedom, where your spirit can roam,
And you know in your bones you’ve found your true home.

Written By Scott Randy Gerber For Whispers Of The Soul © All Rights Reserved 2024

In the quiet hours of a weary night, When stars seem distant, lost from sight, I find a void where hope once stood, A barren place where dreams once could.

The years have passed, a ceaseless strain, And with each dawn, a deeper pain, I sought for peace, a haven’s grace, But only shadows found their place.

The echoes of a life lived hard, A search for solace, left scarred, Each step a question, each breath a plea, For security that never came to be.

I gave my all, with weary hands, In shifting seas, on barren lands, Yet still, the compass led astray, And light was swallowed by the gray.

The game was played, but rules were cruel, A cycle harsh, a mocking duel, For every win, a loss remained, A heart that bled, a spirit drained.

And now the echoes softly say, The search for peace might end this way, A final choice, a quiet release, To find in stillness what I seek.

If I must fall, then let it be, In my own time, in dignity, For in the end, the hardest fight, Is to choose the silence of the night.

So let the curtain gently close, Upon a life that seldom chose, And in that calm, may peace arrive, In a final breath, where I’ll contrive.

To end the pain and weary quest, To finally lay my soul to rest, In the stillness of the final sigh, May I find the peace that passed me by.

Written By Scott Randy Gerber, Whispers Of The Soul ©All Rights Reserved 2024

In the grip of dawn’s reluctant light, Where shadows cling to dreams once bright, Life waltzes on with weighty grace, A stubborn dance we all embrace.

The youth is fresh, a tender bloom, But time will draft its somber tune, And though we leap with heart aflame, The fire dims, yet not the same.

The road unrolls in twists and bends, A canvas where the sorrow blends, With fleeting joys and bitter tears, Each mile more fraught with latent fears.

The years march on, a tireless foe, With every step, a deeper woe, For wisdom’s price is paid in sweat, A heavy cost, with no regret.

In laughter’s wake, in silent cries, In battles lost, in victory’s guise, Life’s tapestry is thick and frayed, Yet in its seams, our hopes are laid.

Though we grow old, the weight’s the same, The burden’s form may shift its name, Yet strength is found in bruised resolve, A heart that aches but won’t dissolve.

For in the struggle, we are spun, The silver threads of what’s begun, And though the climb may never cease, It molds the soul and grants it peace.

So face the storm, embrace the strife, With worn-out hands, and tempest life, For though it breaks, it makes us whole, This ceaseless quest of heart and soul.

Written By Scott Randy Gerber, Whispers Of The Soul © All Rights Reserved