June 5, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Scott Walter



John Grey




The Guy Hit By Lightning



I can’t imagine

what it felt like

when the sky zapped him

with a sizzling bolt

as he stepped onto the twelfth tee

of the golf course

one late afternoon.


Did he feel electric current

pulse through his body

and out the pores

as if he were a luminous fish

defying the dark waters?


He told such strange tales afterwards,

comparing the experience

to Saul on the Road to Damascus

or Planck pulling quantum theory

out of the usual scientific babble.


Too rich for my blood

Especially after a beer or two

when he’s Robert Bruce and the spider,

Beethoven composing his fifth symphony,

Einstein, Tesla and Edison fused into one.


I preferred he just be that fish,

accepting of nature’s quirks,

without the resultant epiphanies.


Besides, he should be thankful

that he survived the experience

and leave it at that.


That way,

we could all be thankful.









They’re your neighbors

but not your friends.

They’re people you’ve

passed on the street


but none you’ve ever

spoken to.

They’re abandoning

their houses


for a rendezvous

in the high hills

while you stay put,

loving your wife,


enjoying your life together

in your cozy little home.

They’re believers

in something or other


and it’s their end

of the world.

You believe in what

makes you comfortable


and the world goes on.

They await their rapture,

the selective ascension

of their creed


into a heaven ordained

ever since their crackpot leader

first thought of it.

Meanwhile, you take


your little raptures

when you can,

understanding, through

the entire process, that


there is no great rapture.

Eventually, they’ll

come down from

their disappointment


and go on with their lives.

You’ll pass them on the street.

You still won’t speak to them.

Your raptures, insignificant as they may be,


will have proved more enlightening,

more empowering, than those of the church

of the Holy Affirmation.

Yet, that wasn’t why you married her.






John Grey

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions and the anthology, No Achilles with work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Gargoyle, Coal City Review and Nebo.


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