Homework for W/E 14/12.15 - STORM SEASON.
Posted: Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:44 pm
STORM SEASON …. Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
The heavens opened once again – above were skies of green
and lowering clouds quite menacing, shot through with lightning’s sheen.
Loud rumbles rolled around the hills, a deep menacing roar
that shook the earth and rattled plates; erupting from the maw
of the Storm God’s enraged visage – the son of Odin, Thor.
The lashing winds and driving rain were cutting like a knife
shredding the leaves and branches, causing no end of strife.
Debris was flung with scant regard – strange missiles flying by -
a trampoline, a garden chair, a pigeon trying to fly
on wings rain soaked and sodden, beneath a leaden sky.
And Zeus, that old cloud gatherer was out strutting his stuff
he opened up the heavens though I think we’ve had enough.
The river crossing’s running deep the bridge is under water,
the traffic’s gridlocked on the roads – they can’t advance – groundwater
has flooded paddocks either side – retreat blocked on each quarter.
At last the Storm Gods disappear – retreat into the ether
and peace descends – or peace of sorts – upon the land beneath her.
The rip and roar of the chainsaw is heard from near and far,
the dreaded wail of sirens sound. Fire, ambo’s or police car?
And yet another storm shows up incoming on radar.
The heavens opened once again – above were skies of green
and lowering clouds quite menacing, shot through with lightning’s sheen.
Loud rumbles rolled around the hills, a deep menacing roar
that shook the earth and rattled plates; erupting from the maw
of the Storm God’s enraged visage – the son of Odin, Thor.
The lashing winds and driving rain were cutting like a knife
shredding the leaves and branches, causing no end of strife.
Debris was flung with scant regard – strange missiles flying by -
a trampoline, a garden chair, a pigeon trying to fly
on wings rain soaked and sodden, beneath a leaden sky.
And Zeus, that old cloud gatherer was out strutting his stuff
he opened up the heavens though I think we’ve had enough.
The river crossing’s running deep the bridge is under water,
the traffic’s gridlocked on the roads – they can’t advance – groundwater
has flooded paddocks either side – retreat blocked on each quarter.
At last the Storm Gods disappear – retreat into the ether
and peace descends – or peace of sorts – upon the land beneath her.
The rip and roar of the chainsaw is heard from near and far,
the dreaded wail of sirens sound. Fire, ambo’s or police car?
And yet another storm shows up incoming on radar.
