The cold grey mist masks your wrath
as briney messengers call out your name,
hissing a warning of destruction and pain.
Men are driven from homes
while children are driven
to cold,
wet
tears,
knowing that the agony slowly draws near.
Beyond my gaze I can sense your rage,
your might and fury in thunderous displays,
harnessing the magic of Neptune
and the power of Poseidon
in streamlined iron belts of rain soaked gales.
Maintaining the pattern,
following the flow,
the ultimate chaos is born.
Like Mother Nature's feral cat
with thirsty claws and glowing eyes
ready to pounce on this innocent shore.
The soft tropical blanket
falls gently on my
feeble,
mortal
shoulders.
It is a calling card I know.
Soon prayers will be lifted
by souls all around,
only to be slapped away
by your mocking whips and howls.
My prayer among them,
it will escape and rise high.
A prayer of thanks,
a prayer of awe,
as I await this maniacal dance
across the saphire stage,
pairing the beauty of God's glowing grace
with the ire of Satan's pandemic scorn.
The briney messengers call out your name,
hissing a warning of destruction and pain,
but I await you,
and all your majesty,
with bated breath
...that will soon be stolen away.
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Author notes
A foolish fan of Mother Nature who often tempts fate, I am known to stand on the beach as the tempest approached. If I were back home in Massachusetts today I would have been on that coast and exposing myself to Hurricane Noel's power. The best I could do is imagine myelf there and it inspired this poem. I may do a connection, too... this is about the storm approaching, so I may write another that is set during the storm, maybe a third for the aftermath?
So... what do you think?
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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hey mark
outstanding, i think it was the way the poem flowed, had a good meter like an metronome. also the way you understand the juxtaposition of the beauty and savagry of nature.
dave -
Mark, it's nice to see you back, especially with this strongly imaged paeon to Nature's, Neptune's, Poseidon's, and God's powers - like barbarians at the gate of civilization's "innocent shore". The poem draws on just about every image of ancient and modern "awe" and "thanks" at this "maniacal dance across the sapphire stage..." And, as a reader, I can sense the poet's total imaginary immersion in the "ultimate chaos" of the hurricane on its way.
The poem is wise, I believe, because it sees this fierce storm not only as destructive, but also as awesome in its raging beauty - "the beauty of the monstrous", as Joseph Campbell words it, so monstrous that it nearly takes the breath away not only from its targets but almost from the poet too. That feel, as I read it, comes through the poem's broken lines and its draw on just the right nouns and adjectives to evoke the storm's coming "destruction and pain...and majesty..."
Great write, Mark.
Lad
I wonder if "glowing" before "grace" might be replaced with something else? since "glowing" is already used in the poem for "eyes" - something more in keeping with God's imponderable actions? Maybe "puzzling" or some such? And "thirsty claws" doesn't quite ring true for me. But those are tiny, tiny minors, Mark. Just a couple thoughts. Even without a change, this poem rocks!
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