Storm
The sea from its shore,
shows me white crested chop.
The sky above, an angry ceiling,
of dark rolling turbulence.
Broadcasting, tumultuous ferocity,
punctuated with bolts, of white hot energy.
Invisible winds swirl, harassing the sea,
restless swell infuriated, to wrathful wave.
What nemesis, goaded Lords of the deep,
to churn emerald waters, to thrashing fury?
Waves, whipped to gigantic infuriated breakers,
to pummel relentlessly, unprotected shores.
How long, before rogue winds subside?
This tantrum pacified, wildness calms?
When may the mariner, safely unfurl sail?
To seek the favor of calm following seas?
Only, when Gods of the abyss,
have accepted sufficient sacrifice.
That apologetically flatters,
and contents, their molested emotions.
16FEB06
poem by Kurt Hearth
Added by Poetry Lover
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