Welcome to My Poetry Site-ALL SEASONS VERSE
1,281,003 poems read
Tropic Thunder
The rumbling thunder shook the homestead.
I still hear it in my head. The sky was a pitch charcoal
Black ripping and rolling in the attack.
There was a yellow haze before the storm found strength.
Its power began to tower and run the entire length of hill and dale, like Pirates on the sail.
Stealing light, and warmth, taking precious air. The storm did rip and tear...the eye of the storm began to flare.
A sudden stillness, deafening silence everywhere. The hope for gentle days to find a place to spare.
The earth trembled and began to break, flames of lightning ignited in the quake.
It swallowed hills and dales and creatures let out a wail. What happens to the rain, was it destain to fail?
The anger of the storm became something more, it changed the Earth too dangerous to explore.
In one heaping mountain lava was its fountain, the birth of a volcano.
In a tropic Island place, became the event that changed the Islands face.
It sleeps for the moment but fosters no grace. It has claimed it molten space.
Its will shower and leave a scorching trace. Please bring me to a place where storms still fade with grace.
©Allseasonsverse2019/16/03
All Rights Reserved
SC
The rumbling thunder shook the homestead.
I still hear it in my head. The sky was a pitch charcoal
Black ripping and rolling in the attack.
There was a yellow haze before the storm found strength.
Its power began to tower and run the entire length of hill and dale, like Pirates on the sail.
Stealing light, and warmth, taking precious air. The storm did rip and tear...the eye of the storm began to flare.
A sudden stillness, deafening silence everywhere. The hope for gentle days to find a place to spare.
The earth trembled and began to break, flames of lightning ignited in the quake.
It swallowed hills and dales and creatures let out a wail. What happens to the rain, was it destain to fail?
The anger of the storm became something more, it changed the Earth too dangerous to explore.
In one heaping mountain lava was its fountain, the birth of a volcano.
In a tropic Island place, became the event that changed the Islands face.
It sleeps for the moment but fosters no grace. It has claimed it molten space.
Its will shower and leave a scorching trace. Please bring me to a place where storms still fade with grace.
©Allseasonsverse2019/16/03
All Rights Reserved
SC
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Tropic Thunder
Tropic Thunder