Forecast
Sun is up
Its time to sing,
When brightness covers
Everything.
Clouds move in
And brightness ends,
A shadowy darkness
Mind it bends.
Sun back up
And birds are high,
It’s all so rosy
In the sky.
Swift in change
And back again,
The greyness brings
A slapping rain.
Tempest blows
And rages on,
In quick hit flash
All hope is gone.
Forecast
Undulating rush
Unlikable fool
Training nothing
Biting hit
As crash it comes
Relenting not
It crushes
Lies
Shares imaginative light
And means nothing.
You. Choose.
Paula Antonello Moore, Poetry prose. Copyright: Monday, April 25, 2016.
Image: Yellow jacket by Justin Luebke from StockSnap.
Wow. Interesting play on words, Paula. I like the combo of some of them, such as “Biting hit.” Don’t know why, but it just sounds interesting!