Treasure Island

Scarlett Treat

(1941 / Jug Fork, Mississippi)

Stormy Day

The storm is finally over.
For a while, the lightning crashed,
thunder roared, and the wind
whipped leaves from the trees.

But now the gentle rain
falls softly on the ground,
the sun peeks brightly
through the rainbow.

I hear the wind
singing softl y through the windchimes
and the rain is chattering
quietly to itself on my rooftop.

Submitted: Wednesday, February 22, 2006

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  • Elysabeth Faslund (7/12/2007 3:45:00 PM)

    If anyone wants to relive a stormy day...and feel and smell it, then read this poem. The genie in the bottle just gave way to Scarlett's storm in a bottle. Just rub the bottle and you'll have the storm you love. An accomplishment for sure! ! ! ! xxElysabeth (Report) Reply

  • Francesca Johnson (1/1/2007 12:41:00 PM)

    This poem took the reader right inside it...I felt the gusty wind and heard the loud rumbles of thunder..and, oh, the sweet smell of the earth after a good storm. A beautiful write, Linda.

    Love, Fran xxx (Report) Reply

  • Mary X (9/15/2006 7:30:00 AM)

    This poem is interesting but what stuck in my mind and on my tongue the most was this:
    'and the wind
    whipped leaves from the trees.'

    Those lines are really powerful, the expression, the bluntness, the violence of the leaves being whipped away from the trees.

    Those two lines made this poem very poignant for me. (Report) Reply

  • Linda Hepner (3/12/2006 8:35:00 PM)

    It's lovely but there is an essential loneliness about it; I think there's more to this than the weather, love LiLAc (Report) Reply

  • Gina Onyemaechi (2/22/2006 1:20:00 PM)

    I like the 3rd section, Lind, but the first and the second could do with more 'wow' and more innovation. Warm regards, Gina. (Report) Reply

  • Chuck Audette (2/22/2006 1:16:00 PM)

    I like the line 'the rain chattering quietly to itself'. Makes me want to take a nap.
    -chuck (Report) Reply

Read all 8 comments » Updates

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Raleigh

EVEN such is Time, that takes in trust
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,
And pays us but with earth and dust;
   Who in the dark and silent grave,
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