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The Storm

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Below is the poem entitled The Storm which was written by poet Bilal HB. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Storm

The river boils and burns
Churning the soil downriver
Silencing the calm quiver
Halting the anaesthetic shiver
This fissure in the earth was the sliver of hope in this dearth
A cool spring, the fuel to my being
The Sun has set, lending its light for a little while
And like the moon I hung in the darkness, absorbing its glow, enduring the vile
My daydream of the daytime would engender a smile
But now my nightmare of the endgame only renders a trial
This river ain’t the Nile, it only runs for a little while
There was only a mile till the end of the aisle
The light at the end would only be a fire to contend
The dark clouds swallowed the moon
And the deafening silence sounded its eerie tune
The leaves yellowed and the moods mellowed
The foliage shrivelled and the sap drivelled
The soil became barren and the animals abandoned
The worms arise as the rain arrives
Time removed the songful chime
The hounds howled and the fiends scowled
The beasts growled and the brutes prowled

And while the divine’s care was undeniably there
I’d go to bed every night to my ceiling’s blank stare
The tears wouldn’t douse my fears
They only suffocated my eyes with a blinding glare
No one said that death was fair
But some say there is life beyond this sphere
My soul yearns for what my body will veer
To reunite with her and be eternally near
The devil laughs at his vulgar gaffe
As he and his trustees squeeze my spirit
His disease was made to displease
As he plunges me into his hypothermic freeze
The demons provoke all night
Until I invoke in my Lord’s might
There is no serenity in the storm
No amenity and nothing warm
The eyes that caused an indubitable hex
Have now sunk into the world up next
She rests as I rage
She nests in her eternal cage
Her red lips like the red rose have shrivelled from the pain that was imposed
Her eyelids are curtains that are eternally shut
She is wrapped in her perpetual clothes
The world has become one with her gut
From my wake she has been cut
But in my dreams she manifests
I see her as though she arose
I feel her as though she resurrects
And I bounce back into relapse
Not watching the clock’s elapse
Just waiting till I collapse
So I may be raised to see her again, perhaps
And while the world has left me with its scraps
I watch every luring sign and endure every swinging axe
My lace is untied
And now it’s time to lace up
Because even if the bride has died
You’ll need to find the strength to get up

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  1. Date: 3/18/2013 7:11:00 PM
    Bilal, love the inspirational ending. Enjoyed stopping by to read your poem. Always* LINDA