Wind. Poem by Graham Jones

Wind.

Rating: 5.0


As you lay in bed pursuing sleep
Can you hear the wind down in the street
Chasing leaves, and garbage cans
Howling like a thousand fans

The sound increases, then it soars
Rattling windows, banging doors
Shaking bushes till they bend
You wonder will it ever end

Like some mischievous wayward child
Untamed, unleashed and running wild
To cause distraction, if you please
Or rip like thunder through the tree's

Then just as quick it fades away
To where I really cannot say
My blankets crumpled in a heap
I finally drift off into sleep.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Sylvia Spencer 18 March 2006

I remember the Great Storm in the late eightys, what devastation. The trees that came down it just made you cry and thank God we only had thirty three faitaltys, because it happend so early in the morning.This poem brought it all back to me, that hurrican was the worst in two hundred years. A really brilliant write. cheers Sylvie

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Charles Chaim Wax 01 February 2006

a sublime narrative the images true and real so real I feel the great rush as trees bend in the majesty of nature and the human safe for now in awe and at last peace a fine poem

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