The storm on the eastern coast will descend
into a grey day bringing showers
and thunderstorms
filling your picnic basket as you go about
finding shelter under trees and shrubs
gone on holiday to the south of france.
bring your brollies
raincoats and gumboots just in case
you day darkens into a cyclone
and your lover leaves you
abandoned with the sunrise
emerging in your life
take care as you meander through
the floods as the gates open
and your emotions spill out
in poetic metaphors
all over the page
sucking readers into the whirlpool
of hidden symbols and mechanisms
that can choke you out
as you watch the weather swish by
without you noticing.
never be deceived by the weathermans wares
at times he may play god
with your days diary entries
but all he can do really
is work like a fortune-teller
using guesswork as a device.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem