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The Morning of the Hurricanes Part 1

The Bishops bathe in Babylon while Princes, prancing on the lawn, watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan. The King dares not defend her. The Horsemen, holding broken reins the Morning of the Hurricanes, sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain, the Saints will soon surrender”. They wonder why they ever came, they have No One whom they can blame, they have no face, they have no name, and even less, a gender. The empty-handed Vagabonds smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes while waiting at the walls beyond, but kneel as Chaos enters. They’re gazing through the window panes in hopes that distant Hurricanes will twist and break their iron chains defying life’s tormentors. The Fantom of the Opera frowns as feeble minded Cleric-clowns mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds when blessing doomed dissenters. The Pirate wields a wooden leg, with pupils dull and visage vague, and if by chance he spreads the plague, it really doesn’t matter. His Princess, pale, no longer feigns, foresees instead (down ancient lanes) the coming of the Hurricanes - the Stones stir, staring at her. And Jackals scrape the river bed as Savants soothe the underfed and Crows, collecting scattered bread, adorn, with crumbs, the platter. The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes weep, winding up in rundown trains mid whispers of the Hurricanes, and Priests refuse to christen. They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns, the cuckoo birds, the dying swans; while pitching pennies into ponds their eyes opaquely glisten. The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes remind the Mimes to tell the Folks the time of day and other jokes, yet No One looks to listen. The Hunchbacks with contorted canes galumph before the Hurricanes, in melted sleet, in frozen rains, in bruised and battered sandals. Their Groans engulf the land of gulls, the land of stones, the land of nulls, and lurk between the blackened lulls, for Nighttime brooks no candles. Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes, (and other long forgotten Spooks) are more than random crazed rebukes, though taunting to the Vandals. Continued in Part 2

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

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Date: 12/5/2012 7:36:00 PM
long rhyme,,, liked the way it read though ;}
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Date: 11/30/2012 9:56:00 PM
I finally found a poem I hadn't yet commented on. And what a great poem it is. Not only do I love the rhyme and meter but the cadence of this is superb. I can hardly wait for part two so I can get a deeper insight into this awesome poem.
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Date: 11/4/2012 11:54:00 AM
This is like a tail rhyme sort of...Enjoyed reading your very creative work..I am glad that I chose it to read today..Thanks for stopping by..Sara
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Date: 10/23/2012 1:45:00 PM
Yes,we can't be done; on to part two!
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Date: 10/22/2012 11:05:00 AM
great write Terry,loved the flow,smooth
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Date: 10/19/2012 12:10:00 PM
....well penned Terry......hugs
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Date: 10/18/2012 5:42:00 PM
the first part leaves me wanting for more.
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Date: 10/18/2012 4:26:00 PM
i'm not quite sure exactly what this is all about (i thought chess at first, but it's obviously much more than that!) but i so enjoyed reading it! your rhythm and rhyme are absolutely brilliant and it just flows so smoothly and sounds so great. i'm looking forward to reading part 2!
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