Woken Poem by Orlando Belo


Rating: 3.0

I was woken by the howling wind in the small hours.
The clock was showing three forty-four.
The shutters were banging against the outside wall
and a draught blew under the door.

Driving rain was being carried by the relentless wind,
peppering the windows and rattling the letterbox.
Cold air circulated around the bedroom and house,
but I was warm under my duvet and in my woolly socks.

Thunder shook the house in the small hours,
whilst flashes of lightning lit up the room.
After that I must have fallen off to sleep again,
because I

Monday, May 22, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: life
Marieta Maglas 06 June 2017

Sometimes, I think I ''hear'' the soothed sun saying ''good morning'' to the tired moon. After that, I realize that it was only the cold wind saying ''good morning- still tired? '' I look at the sky and I see a red, seemingly happy sun and an exhausted, white moon. For sure, they send each other attraction energies. In the Sumerian literature, the moon has been a foreign planet, named Kingu, before becoming our natural satellite. The moon couldn't escape her sun's attraction.What do you think about this style- I mean, what do you think about the Sumerian literature? Excellent poem. Voted 10.

0 0 Reply
Unwritten Soul 04 June 2017

Wowww the rhyme and sharing your whole day in this work feel like i peeping your lively diary hahahaha...the last line is my favorite, beautiful and so poetic! loved it

0 0 Reply
Error Success