Storm
In leaden blue it musters force.
Then comes electric blink,
then roll of drums reflects from hills.
Our spirits start to sink.
Aloft the cauldron stirs its curse,
a potion for attack.
It starts to tease with brisky breeze
then rips in with a smack.
Now we are in a battlefield
and each strafe makes us rail.
Bullets of icy rain shoot in,
then sideways pelt of hail.
The leaden blue now loses force.
But its anger not spent,
for it will muster once again.
Winter won't yet relent.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
