Poetry – Lightning Returns a Strike

A free verse poetry, “Lightning Returns a Strike”.

A first kiss is magical, like fireworks, or lightning. Sending tingles to all parts of the body. Do you remember your first kiss, and who it was, in the comment section below, leave me his or her name? For me, his name was Rick. I was 12. It felt like a lightning strike. My body was exploding with volumes of tingles going off like fireworks. So sweet and tender, but yet so explosive. Tell me your experience, I would love to hear about it.

Image of A free verse poetry, "Lightning Returns a Strike".

You claimed, there is no passion within you;
You are lightning devoid of electricity.
You shut down feelings under layers of scars.
But I saw an untamed electricity behind
the dark disguise of eyes.
Little did you know that I held fire, smoldering embers,
that coursed through my veins.
And you were shocked when I kissed you,
your lips were seared with pain.
Sparks come from those baby blues.
And eyes wandered over my face too.
and lightning returns a strike.

©Linda J. Wolff 2017
|Lightning Returns a Strike|
A free verse poetry.

Puppy love or your first crush is different than your first love too. Two hearts looking to intertwine. Our youth searching to be something more. To leave a lightning strike.


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Read more:

  1. Poetry – Talking Sparrows
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  3. Poetry – Smiling Origami Swan
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lightning returns a strike, poetry, free verse poetry, love poems, love, romance, relationships, first kiss, daily prompt, postaday,



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Linda J. Wolff is an interurban word spinner and extrovert through many coffee-stained papers and owned by Rookie the hyperactive Pomeranian dog at Urban Poetry.

8 thoughts on “Poetry – Lightning Returns a Strike

  1. Ha! You ask about that first kiss; my first kiss was a horrible, slobbery affair. I was thirteen, and a boy had asked if he could “be my boyfriend”. Having been of the mistaken opinion that I was repulsive, I was very flattered – and he was good looking – so I said yes… that’s when the kiss happened. The next ten days or so were a nightmare; didn’t have the guts to tell him I didn’t want to be his girlfriend after all, because his kisses made me feel sick. On the tenth day my family moved 200 miles away, just in time to avoid having my face dissolved by his saliva. I can’t remember his name… maybe it was John, as in dear John, or John Doe.
    I have a worse horror story about my second boyfriend, but my third one… that’s where the story should have started. He was called Dave.

    Liked by 1 person

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