Ill-Sent.
Granite protection tries its stone-utmost
to stave away land-slides along our coast.
Take an ocean of rimless diversity
where scrolls of dread power build reign
of threat to explode with ill-sent fury.
Take the intent of human endeavour
to stay the worst moves of saline invasion
gale-bent on claiming unfettered misrule.
Try to imagine weary male shoulders
defiant with bulge of work-hardened veins
attempting to bolster diverted disaster.
Try to conceive how when tragedy's brink
floats nearer and fields sink mud-locked
in watery vortex hopes too can crash.
Unhookably fierce the teeth of sea-storms
that brook no relief until wind speed alters.
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Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: July 4th, 2018 03:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 48
- Users favorite of this poem: Heartwriter, kevin browne
Offline)
Comments4
Paints a super picture - fine work Fay
It is sad when beauty turns to disaster. Just a reminder that nature is two-fold. On one hand it holds desire to the eye. In the other it can be hard and cold. Great write dear Fay!
Hope you're not having that just now, Fay?!
Super wok may, this always shows how strong the elements are and how weak man is trying to fight them.
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