Storm by Kim Whysall-Hammond

Another poem of mine on “In Between Hangovers”……

In Between Hangovers

The storm shouts through tree limbs
Cracks and breaks
Whips branches to  frenzied tossing
Blows and whistles
Hammers  against windows and doors
Shrieks and groans
Pries open roofs, flings tiles to the sky
Never lessens to a moan
But instead increases its relentless noise
Until, astonishingly, we are forced to cover our ears
In our shelter at the buildings centre
Huddling

A barrage of artillery scatalogically fires
Bangs resound around
Items sharply spatter  the window
Cracking and splintering
Words struggle to encompass what we now hear
Howling winds crescendo
Tortured wood explodes into fragments
Breaking glass like sugar
The Nissan hut shudders creaks shifts
Exhales sobs sighs
Would weep we feel as we weep
Fearing the storms ferocity

Staccato thrumming is in fact the rain
Finally gentling
Light begins to filter between thrashing trees
T he loud dark recedes
Easing ourselves from our shelter at the huts centre
To the…

View original post 66 more words

Advertisements

I'd love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s