Wind

It comes in soft whispers and gentle moans

Mariah and sisters, hear their creaking bones

The panting and deepening of their sigh

Distant ranting and weeping, a forlorn cry

Waves of mounting torment in screams bewail

Rage long dormant from heaving breast to rail

Rooted trees give way to its brutal force

Bringing old giants to their knees in its course

In obeisance all creation does bow

Satan's breath blows destination to its plough

Those that won't kneel, beheaded all the proud

Sickle of breathy steel wielded by a cloud

Devastation's wake grieves, prostrate in shame

In peace she leaves as silently as came

Author's Note

Mariah it what they call the wind in the windy plain states of the US

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

You may be using the wind in a metaphorical way, But 300 miles east of me, a big wind called Hurricane Erin is raising hell in the Atlantic Ocean. Its outer bands have caused flooding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, not far south of me. Satan's breath indeed. Mariah can be a real b***h when she wants to.

[Soren]

Thanks John yea I've been through a few. Sometimes poems are inspired by real life. This poem came from hearing trees snaping, When I went out the door I watched a stand of tall trees waving in the wind one snaped in front of my eyes then another and then one after another they started to fall like dominoes one hundred foot trees snaping like tooth picks and sound like gunshots. Appreciate the read my friend