The Perfect Storm
Listen to poem:
He rode her with a passion his tiller held high
He commanded her, but; never once did own
Calms her ardent waters; passions as subside
Giving respect, allows her to share his throne
He commanded her, but; never once did own
Forced within her; his very own perfect storm
Giving respect, allows her to share his throne
By willingness, then acceptance did transform
Forced within her; his very own perfect storm
Waves ridden, until nothing but; waning ebbs
By willingness, then acceptance did transform
As into calmer waters, her riled passion heads
Waves ridden, until nothing but; waning ebbs
Steered by the tiller-man in his direction lead
As into calmer waters her riled passion heads
He has all but now; put this wild storm to bed
Steered by the tiller-man in his direction lead
He was never, going to be browbeaten by she
He has all but now; put this wild storm to bed
Never fearing his mission, in claiming this sea
He was never going to be browbeaten by she
Calms her ardent waters, passions as subside
Never fearing his mission, in claiming this sea
He rode her with a passion, his tiller held high
Copyright © Indiana Shaw | Year Posted 2020
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