The Storm

This poem I eventually hope to do as a song. Written while abroad in Spain, during a particularly heavy downpour. Alternate title is “Mother Nature”

The Storm

The walls, they ring,
And the windows are clattering.
Outside in the storm,
The heavens are shattering.

The thunder rolls on,
It’s pounding the sky.
It rattles our bones,
To remind us we’re alive.

Though it shakes our hearts,
And it’s all very fright’ning,
With the flash and bang,
And the branches of lightning.

There’s beauty in the danger,
Like broken glass shards,
In the freeform electricity,
Bright as the stars.

And as nature puts on
This impressive light show,
To the oohs and the ahs
Of us ants down below,

And we cover our heads
And we cower in fear
And we breathe so loudly
When the danger’s so near.

We count off the ticks
To place storm far or near.
Between light and sound,
The distance we hear.

And we wait for the morning,
And blue skies, again clear,
For the quiet sweet world
That we hold so dear.

For the walls, they ring,
And the windows are clattering
Outside in the storm,
The heavens are shattering.

The thunder rolls on,
It’s pounding the sky.
It rattles our bones,
To remind us we’re alive.

For we know despite thunder,
And rumble, and crash,
When we walk outside again,
We’ll find more than ash.

We’ll find our streets
Made new and green again,
Young flowers blooming,
All worth the night’s din.

That is Mother Nature,
Holder of great might,
Bringer of storms,
And of dawn’s plying light.

Of harsh rains and light snows,
Of the trees and the vines,
She’s dangerous and fickle,
And distant and kind.

We gain from her wisdom,
Sorrow and mirth,
The sun and the storm,
And all that breathes on the Earth.

So while the walls are ringing
And the windows are clattering
And outside in the storm,
The heavens are shattering,

We batten the hatches,
And lay our heads down to dream,
Of the world in wake of lightning,
Beautiful and green.

Yes that is Mother Nature,
Holder of great might,
Bringer of storms,
And of dawn’s plying light.

Of harsh rains and light snows,
Of the trees and the vines,
She’s dangerous and fickle,
And distant and kind.

We gain from her wisdom,
Sorrow and mirth,
The sun and the storm,
And all that breathes on the Earth.

So while the walls are ringing
And the windows are clattering
And outside in the storm,
The heavens are shattering,

We batten the hatches,
And lay down to dream,
Of the world in wake of lightning,
Beautiful and green.

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About skylarklanding

My name is Amanda Davis. I am an aspiring industrial designer currently studying at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. I like to draw, read, write, make jewelry, and act crazy with my friends. I am generally friendly (a bit neurotic during finals) and am open to questions, comments, and constructive critiques.

Posted on March 22, 2016, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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