RED IN ITS ANGER

 

 

The storm approaches the shore.

A spray of water hits my face.

The salty breeze lifts tendrils of hair.

Palm trees sway and bend.

The sand ripples

from the increasing wind.

Birds flee for safety.

Waves crash against the rocks.

The sky darkens to red in its anger,

raining tears across the land and sea.

When will it end?

Once the sky calms,

the sun will shine.

The birds will return.

The tantrum will be over.

RED SKY

 

The sky glows red

with anger.

It shrieks thunder.

It rains tears.

Lightning sizzles

across its angry face.

Wait.

Watch.

Listen.

The sky is still in command.

It shows its wrath.

Then it grows calm

and releases the blue skies.

DOUSE THE FIRE

Source:

 

 

DOUSE THE FIRE

It simmers and brews.

It comes to a quick boil.

Hot steam escapes the cracks.

A whistle fills the moist air.

A fire too late to be extinguished.

A flame too unwilling to be leashed.

An explosion rips through the surface.

Heated words spew forth.

Sweet nothings won’t curb the flames.

Apologies too late in coming.

Anger has reared its head.

Water won’t douse the fire.

CHURNING

Source:

 

 

The sea churns.

It burns with anger.

Waves of passion.

Ready to strike.

It will hit the shore.

So be prepared.

The Dead return.

For you and me.

PREY FOR THE DEAD

Book Two of THE DEAD GAME Series now available.

A STORM IS COMING

paradise night

 

A storm is coming,
Hitting the shore.
Palm trees flying
And so much more.

Anger raises the waves.
Passion kicks up the sand.
Fear hides behind clouds.
Marching in like a band.

I know he is here.
I hide from his face.
He’s coming for me.
Clouds pick up the pace.

His anger brings passion and fear.
Too bad he can’t fly like a dove.
His can easily move mountains.
For me, he moves the sky above.

THE DEAD GAME
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FLUSH OF PINK

… the inner gauge is rising to its peak …

 

Anger raises its head

as I thrash in my bed.

The hot flush of pink is flowing.

To my brow, it isn’t slowing.

 

I remember his aqua eyes

as he retold his many lies.

I watched the grim line of his frown

as he turned my world upside down.

 

I won’t let him ruin my night.

I need him out of my sight.

No more meetings in the dark

beneath the elm in the park.

 

No more whispers as we walk.

I know the town loves to talk.

I say goodbye to my fickle love

as the moon bows its head above.

FURY

cold wave


The ocean roars its fury.

Arms lift in supplication.

Waves bend sharp rocks.

No boats dare the swells.

Birds flee.

The sun hides.

Mist fills the air.

We wait.

Will we be worthy?

Is mankind ever worthy?

Will the waters recede for us?

The answer lies in the ocean’s depths of despair.

We bow our heads and pray.