While My Storm Rages By
And softly again rises the raged storm
In the fields of wheat and rye
There is no home for butterflies
But a falcon winds by
When the swings and the baby’s cradle
Rocks with lost lullabies’
Dimmed and dimmed the luminous light
Candles and lanterns wane in the night
Amongst hundreds if not thousands days of light
Sleeps one darkened night.
Whilst after the storm there is not much to gather
Nor to fret, but much to mourn with all populace dead
There in the pastures
One lost lamb of the thousands
Runs the distance in search of home.
And a river winds in two
to trod a million ways
with the fishes untroubled
by the storm of the land
The cotton from the plants move so
With the wind on its wayward path
As my storm rages by
all farmlands in black and blue
in moments past turns to dust.
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.
