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The Storm: A Poem

As a person who lives in the Midwest, I've had my fair share of thunderstorms, so I've observed them a lot. I personally find them peaceful.



The Storm

A storm

formed up above in the clouds

Born enemies with the ground

clashing, thrashing

Against each others' walls

Lightning flashing

Daggers across the gloomy sky

Littering sparks

White-hot power

Staggeringly bright

The night cannot put up

A fight to the

Furious blinding light

Thunder, booming, fuming

A symphony to one who listens

Carefully but cover your

Ears for fear of it

Quieting your mind

Shaking, breaking windows

Shockwaves rumble

Tumble over the lands

Clouds, hovering

Covering every inch of blue

Gentle giants, defiant

Never falling, just rolling

With the wind

A blanket suffocating

The earth, separating

The heavens from the ground

Rain, pouring, roaring

Bullets shot by gravity

Straight down

Splattering on the surface

Of the planet

Water, harmless until it is

Soaking, choking

Everything underneath

The storm struck with its

Lightning, rain

Thunder to shatter the world

Under its clouds

Loud, but not loud enough

For the ground stayed put

It knew that

Storms will always blow over



About this poem:

I wrote this a while ago off of a one-word prompt. The word was "storm." (So creative, I know.) Originally, I had an interesting and much more creative take on the prompt, but then I started writing and this is what I ended up typing either way. I love thunderstorms. Listening to the sound of them at night lulls me to sleep. They have some kind of terrifying beauty about them, which is what I think is part of what makes them so powerful. So, I wrote about that. Of course, the last stanza turns it into a metaphor. The ground is mentioned multiple times as if it were at war with the storm. Then, at the end, it reveals the ground's fighting strategy: waiting for it to be over. Sometimes, when your opponent in life seems formidable and absolutely terrifying, the best option is to stand your ground, because "storms will always blow over." Something I love about this poem is the format. I don't really know what to call it, but I like it. I hope you enjoyed reading this!

~Tina Kelvy

© 2021 Tina Kelvy

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