The Storm
A wound across the sky
Is gaping, torn asunder
By unseen hands of greater gods
Perfect blue is marred
Left hanging open to the weather
A bruised and bleeding centre
A spreading stain
Seeping into purple
And to black
Opportunistic winds arise
Surround the breach
Stalk it, like fallen prey
Force themselves within
It falls apart
A heavenly disembowelling
Life force rushing out
Roaring in pain
And crying tears of blood
Soaking all below
Shaking fists of opposition
And flashing eyes of anger
The raging tempest passes
The death knell quietly sounds
Whispers in defeat, in demise
Turns within and weeps
Softly, almost gentle
As it leaves
© Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.com, 2013.
Amazing poem and amazing photo to go with it…storms are so powerful. 🙂
LikeLike