| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Emotional >> ID #846919 |
| |||||||||||||
|
STORM
Night is calm, the air is still; I can hear the distant shrill Of the cricket from afar In the black darkness ajar. No quivering of a leaf; Silence of surrounding grief Sings a silent warning tune Of a tempest coming soon. There will gather such a storm, Of the vilest, wildest form, Grimmer than the one most grim, That will rip me from within. It will shake my existence, My heart, my wit, my conscience, Render me empty and weak, Turn me but into a freak. Me, who was always so proud, Me, who thought without a doubt, None could, in love, play a part, That would break my steely heart. Alas! Though I am now wise, I have paid a heavy price To learn, a wisp of a girl Can, for man, a storm unfurl. * Written in aabb, 7-7-7-7 format *Awarded Third Prize in Nikola's Poetry/Short Story Contest, "Nikola's Ink Spot Poetry Contest" M C Gupta 7 May 2004
© Copyright 2004 Dr M C Gupta (UN: mcgupta44 at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Dr M C Gupta has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |