A Tempestuous Tantrum Poem by Ila Manish

The skies lie overcast,
As the sand blows up into
Churning clusters of clouds.
Billowing a dangerous blue,
Beckoning the storm.

The drizzle begins,
Each drop echoing into the
desolate void of nothingness.
The wind pushes on
Into the doldrums,
The imminent storm
Flying in with it.

The Sun blinks out,
Taking with it the light, and
Seagulls, buffeted by the wind,
Croak in empty, sepulchral tones.
Sudden swells of rain
Come pattering down
As crabs scuttle back into
the water.

Jagged waves whip
Against the shore,
Ruthless as it drinks the rain.
The trees bow down,
Sheltering their Mother,
As she sheds golden tears
In anguished prayer.
The sea, wrathful in its oblivion,
Batters down its once loved family.

Night arrives, pinching out
The last flame of hope,
That glowed gold and bright
On the seashore.
The morning, hesitantly creeps in
Tentatively stealing glances
At its lost kin.
Ships smashed to smithereens
Come floating in,
Pricking the conscience of the sea.
The trees lie, lifelessly still
Against their Mother's faded spirit.
The water slinks closer -
A child in guilt,
Scared to show face
After that tempestuous tantrum.