THE WASHING MACHINE

 

 

I’m having a bad dream,

no, maybe a nightmare,

of a washing machine.

 

It wakes me up at night.

It rumbles and whispers.

I hope it won’t take flight.

 

It’s moving and grooving

to a beat of its own,

that is far from soothing.

 

It’s a horrible sight.

A machine set to hard.

It’s ready for a fight.

 

I scream into my pillow.

“My clothing is all too clean,”

then I weep like a willow.

A FIGHT

coiour-my-world: “ Dark & Stormy by mrjones131 on Flickr. Grand Cayman ” A sizzle lights up the night sky. Followed by thunder up so high. The black clouds rumble in dismay. Crumbling like figures of clay. Red soon joins the purple light. Gearing up...

Dark & Stormy by mrjones131 on Flickr.

Grand Cayman

 

A sizzle lights up the night sky

Followed by thunder up so high.

The black clouds rumble in dismay,

Crumbling like figures of clay.

Red soon joins the purple light,

Gearing up for a loud fight.

The sea’s quiet below,

Keeping its head down low.

We are in for a charged night

As nature gears for a fight.

 

THE STORM

 

The storm is approaching the shore.

I can feel the dampness in the air.

Mist spraying against my face.

Strands of hair lifting in the wind.

Rumble of thunder in the distance.

Flashes of light crossing the darkening sky.

Yes, I can feel it.

It’s almost here.

Let it roar.