Treasure Island

Fay Slimm

(Ageless. / in Cornwall U.K.)

Windy Ridge Living.

Gushing, as suddenly breeze turns to spite
And spits rain, here, once again unremitting,
A precursor to dour grey, it looks quite
Stormy. As prelude befitting, I sit
Here measuring life at the top. Gale approaches,
Which will bellow and blow fiercely, then stop.
Then as soon as rock feels sun, I will broach
The subject of warmth. Rain or not, mocking
At blow, rock, secretly like me, loves free
Spirited air, which daringly changes
It's face at will. Amazingly this windy
Ridge has survived vagaries like danger
From capricious winds, and so have I, life
Here has to be faced full on and mightily.


Submitted: Monday, July 13, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, July 28, 2009

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Comments about this poem (Windy Ridge Living. by Fay Slimm )

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  • Tia Maria (7/13/2009 6:42:00 AM)

    Oh yes! This is brilliant... we can weather any storm. Great write from a great poet 10/10 - incredible my friend: -) (Report) Reply

  • Susan Jarvis (7/13/2009 3:37:00 AM)

    Some excellent figurative language here; '...breeze turns to spite/ And spits rain...' is superb. I can feel and hear the wrath of the storm. Emotions are adeptly tied in with the weather throughout this poem - pathetic fallacy at its very best! S :) (Report) Reply

  • Catrina Heart (7/13/2009 2:58:00 AM)

    Truly marvelous poetry written here...great imagery and smooth tone...A delight to read! ! ! 10++++ (Report) Reply

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