hurricanes

Learn more about other poetry terms

 ‘Twas an ill wind blowing on that August day. ‘Twas a portent of what was headed that way. All saints and sinners, aye ye better take heed, of the storm they called Katrina.  
Dead People In The Bathroom   Mama’s in prison, why ain’t she here? There’s dead people in the bathroom and a rat over there.   The water kept rising,
At first I thought you were diamond embedded And then I saw how imperfectly you were created You willow crying like you lost perfection And some of us see your little perfect complexions
Hurricanes, tornadoes, strange omens wreak day's woes, Foes unseen, it's of the people unclean, Pollution sown so mean, this is not just a dream, Fiends of torrential rain, causing pain as the water flows down drains,
The roaring crash of the waves, The calm, cloudless sky, The warm sun touching my skin. This was home.
Subscribe to hurricanes