PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The wind picks up to an unbearable speed,
the dark beautiful clouds roar in rain,
lightning so blue and red yet to feed,
becoming lost in them becomes quite a strain.

Leaves and branches whip and snap,
puddles and streams begin to form,
going threw this is but a dangerous trap,
for this is yet an angry storm.

Clouds darken and begin to spin and toil,
a tornado wakens from all the mood,
trees and plants recklessly ripped from soil,
mothers and children take cover but cried and cooed.

Under ground in basement cellars,
grabbing blankets and pails to sit on,
praying and praying for it to stop,
for maybe some poor fellers didn't make it to cellars.

Hushing and listening for a praise from God,
all wind and rain has died and gone,
acting strong and releasing the metal rod,
stepping out to face all the dark wrong,
time to repair and time to keep carrying on.