Semi-Freestyle, Rhyming
--------------------------------
A settled storm approaches quietly. But the winds warn us of its level of violence.
The air, it blows and makes its warnings. Which are then done settled by silence.
At word of the storm, the people close their doors and watch from the windowsills.
The word had spread and had given all who heard some chills..
The leaves, they ran, let them be stepped on by the people or freed.
It seemed that anything that was light were all simply fleeing.
Because once the storm arrived over head.
Everyone knew- you'd most certainly be dead.
That is, of course, judging off its anger.
Any worse than it was- and it as to the hanger.
The animals took their turn in running away.
In small shelters, small homes, small dens- they will stay.
But the birds, oh the birds, how unlucky they will be.
When their nest falls, or it breaks.. Quite careless it seems.
Alas, the storm. It has finally arrived.
And because of that, the cheers and collaborations have died.
It was a bad one. I'll give it that.
But it's winds weren't dangerous, and that was known for a fact.
For as harsh as it seemed, the storm soon passed.
Leaving nothing different but watered, fresh grass.
So with smiles and sighs, the people rejoiced.
The clouds were kind that day. And being kind was a choice.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryTitle says it all! But some additional information is : • Each poem is labeled with something - each poem with something I think may be disturbing to viewers is warned about. • Will contain vents, nature poems, rants, inspiration, and more! • I'm...
