Storm Poem by james watkin
Storm
Wet blur of trees, blown horizontal;
Stream as green uprears!
Garden-fronted into the next
What for each housed clue
Is but roofed, tossed the air through;
Window-viewing smears.
Sky in a seizure! Or more bleak
A bout of madness
O'ertaken by. Through fierce displays
Banal for either
To be named lightning and thunder
Its terrors confess.
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: madness,weather
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5/4/2024 8:36:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Short and precise, still good art, may you read my poem the blurred figure
Thanks Alison