Who is online?
14 users online:
-- 1 registered
-- 0 hidden
-- 13 guests
0 user in the chatroom
(User activity over the last 10 minutes)
1801 registered users
Members List
Members List
Author: Ron
Started: 23/03/07
Last Edited: never
Published: 23/03/07
Revision: 0
read reviews/comments
(what's this?)
| Holiday Cottage Bembridge, Isle of Wight, UK | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Proofreading and Copy-Editing
Do you need someone impartial and experienced to look over your work? Visit Natasha Wagner Editorial and get a free, no-obligation quote.
| Poetry Showcase [Other] | Moderators for this section: Weaver, ochsterboxter, CadenzRime, Lingua Pura, ososment, carolynrn, Inker |
The StormThermals rising from the ground have wound themselves without a sound into a boiling mountain cloud called Nimbus. Heat-wave building over days has turned the ground to shimmering haze that dances as the mirage plays strange tricks upon the mind. Static charge in humid air brings fear and nervous tension where, one hour ago, a day so fair was promised. Pressure drops as sky turns dark and dogs run skittish, growl and bark at nothing. Broadcast warns of biting wind and in response a pilot sighs, then turns his aircraft off its course in search of kinder skies. Campers quickly stow their tents as distant thunder rents the air and live-line linesmen everywhere look to the sky and say a prayer. First squall hits and trees are bent in curving arcs, like ranks of camouflaged soldiers bowing down in Parade Ground Park. Plastic bag in tortured flight comes swirling into sight and wraps itself round neon light that sparks and flickers out. Crash of glass as window pane is shattered by a flying bin, and shop-front goods are hurled about in crazy mixed-up din. Man on bike discovers flight and in his fright is unprepared for sight of solid wall, which hits him in the chest and breaks his fall. Police car screeches to a halt and sergeant tries to fathom fault at scene of three-car front-end shunt. But finding none he issues tickets anyway and then is gone. Vortex forms up in the sky and thunderclap's a deafening sound, which vibrates flesh lit by the flash of lightening crackling to the ground. Howling banshee fills the world with storm-force-twelve that screams and swirls to uproot trees and hurl them at the sky, and all below not fastened down or buried deep within the ground are plucked from Earth and made to fly. Rivers swell and burst their banks and grateful living give their thanks to floating trees and wooden planks. Lights go out and fires are set and no one gets from A to B, without a gauntlet-run past flying roof or fallen tree. But out in force and on the news are camera crews with head-screw loose, while flying objects fail to bruise an ego filled with first-hand views. Weathermen accept the blame for lack of warning of the rain that falls so fast it can't be drained; while refugees from sunken towns are sat on rooftops all around unable to reach higher ground. Services are stretched to full as firemen try in vain to pull a population from the flood, and statisticians count the cost in terms of bricks and mortar lost instead of grieving for the blood. Crops are swamped and washed away as deadly hurricane claims the day, and news flash warns of tidal wave that's sweeping-in from Thunder Bay. Ships are tossed on giant seas and coastal trawlers turn and flee for safety of the tranquil lee of port. While in the bay the roiling wave has claimed the souls of many brave and desperate men whose prayers did count for nought. Sea wall rises in the air and ten-ton chunks of concrete float like weightless polystyrene boats. Hotel fronts are smashed away by Neptune's salty wave of grey and buildings crumble, shake and sway on sea-side hamlet's blackest day. Storm-tossed sea of bubbling foam has come ashore to reduce homes, to rubble heaps that act as tombs for mangled flesh and salt-bleached bones. Then just as quickly silence falls. Vacant eyes stare over walls and wonder where the wind has gone? Mournful cries of bitter woe are carried on a tidal flow of heart-felt pain, as easing rain gives way to sudden bright and welcome blue. People venture to the street and greet each other in state of shock, and wonder why they're still alive when all that's left of solid homes are heaps of tumbled rock. Mothers search for baby sons amongst the ruins on their knees, and chain-saws scream as fathers clear a path for them through fallen trees. Hopes are raised that all is well and life and limb are saved from Hell; then news flash tells a different tale, of wind and rain and howling gale that waits to strike once more so fast, when in one hour The Eye will pass. |
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 1 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
All of my rhyming prose can be chopped into 'verses' 
MoreWriting - formerly known as Get Writing
This community was initially formed on the BBC Get Writing website. It is now proudly independent, self-moderating and has no connection with the BBC.
Disclaimer
Most of the content on EKBS MoreWriting is created by EKBS MoreWriting Members, who are members of the public. The views expressed are theirs and unless specifically stated are not those of EKBS. EKBS is not responsible for the content of any external sites referenced. If you consider anything on this page to be in breach of the site's Terms and Conditions, please email us.
Powered by phpBB © 2001, 2002 phpBB Group
