Fay Slimm.

Storm-Demons

 

 

Storm-Demons.

 

There are times when the ocean is not
even water  nor       
blue sea but some violent explosion as
summoned by Gods
for when bursting with over-keen roar
of wind energy
it swells then hurls itself over big rocks
biting to pieces 
shoreline villages like  ravenous beast
whose anger knows
no limits while its screams never stop.


The deafening howl frights those inside
cliff-side cottages
who often experience major wreckage
to humblest dwellings
when white froth covers chimney tops 
and as night arrives 
with blackest storm-demons cavorting
in weed-filled socks gale
blast hurls sand with greater ferocity.

 

Grit pocks all windows as families wait
and pray that come light
the almighty worst of yet another gale 
will rage then blow out 
to reveal no tragic cost to coastal folk
who may eyes asearch 
find not a vessel or returning men lost.