The Typhoon (6/20/08) Poem by Ayi Escalona

the sun's golden ray escaped
faster than 4 o'clock
the merry day
were forced to become black
but not so easy
and compromised for gray

and gray becomes grayer
then next to the escaping light
is the sound of whirling wind
the voice of terror
sounded like furious cymbals
stirring the tranquil abode

the tense trees danced like hell
swaying in a painful rhythm
the wondrous lyrics
of the wind's chant
is a mixture of fear and pain
not only the trees can tell

from my simple abode
i listened to the wreckage
peeped outside from the clearer spot
of the blurred glass windows
the devastation outside is vast
horrendous foe that cant be matched

the dark day
the furious wind
the horizontal rain
he inundated streams
the falling hills
the treacherous waves

then…..miraculously
after days of fright and failed optimism
the clear sky appeared
the nature's cleansing work is over
so dear…so costly
nonetheless…we paid it with life