We Weather Time

We weather time,
with thunder storm
Lightning strikes ~
presto lucid tempo;
Hoping for rhyme’s reprieve,
Amid sonatas
tranquil interludes.

Oh thunder,
thunder aloud roars

Echoes reign,
flood allegretto,
rein outdoors
Evermore vibrating
vivid forte
walls indoors
Mother Nature’s
Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.
RIP TAPS percussion’s,
“Drown In It” interlude.

Oh thunder,
thunder aloud roars

Near, afar flails,
tornadic pesimo
whirl winds flair
Like sandcastle
see shore surf,
washing away tide
Trees are felled,
processions dew
flow downstream
What man has built,
be thunder stuck
lightning bolt.

Oh thunder,
thunder aloud roars

Anew youth ~
We weather
time’s wrinkled potholes
When flooded,
must be navigated,
amiss extreme caution
Many misconceptions,
have swallowed
gullible victims
Whilst mouthful sinkholes
digest vehicles and dwellings.

Oh thunder,
thunder aloud roars

As time,
begets tide,
what Will begotten
in wind’s after math
Shall we praise,
to be saved,
amongst physical processions
Be baptismal cleansed,
anew spiritual
insight soul awakening
What happens,
when the next
thunder storm cometh ~
Be past due.

HeArtMosphere Poet

We Weather Time

We weather time, with thunder storm
Lightning strikes ~ presto lucid tempo;
Hoping for rhyme’s reprieve,
Amid sonatas tranquil interludes.

Oh thunder, thunder aloud roars

Echoes reign, flood allegretto, rein outdoors
Evermore vibrating vivid forte walls indoors
Mother Nature’s Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.
RIP TAPS percussion’s, “Drown In It” interlude.

Oh thunder, thunder aloud roars

Near, afar flails, tornadic pesimo whirl winds flair
Like sandcastle see shore surf, washing away tide
Trees are felled, processions dew flow downstream
What man has built, be thunder stuck lightning bolt.

Oh thunder, thunder aloud roars

Anew youth ~ We weather time’s wrinkled potholes
When flooded, must be navigated, amiss extreme caution
Many misconceptions, have swallowed gullible victims
Whilst mouthful sinkholes digest vehicles and dwellings.

Oh thunder, thunder aloud roars

As time, begets tide, what Will begotten in wind’s after math
Shall we praise, to be saved, amongst physical processions
Be baptismal cleansed, anew spiritual insight soul awakening
What happens, when the next thunder storm cometh ~ Be past due.

HeArtMosphere Poet