deepundergroundpoetry.com
Finger of God
The rain comes splattering in through my window, like a thousand cool tiny kisses
My skin glisten
It begins as the sun goes down in the coal black inky darkness of night
Layer of fright
Thunder so loud it rattles the windows, shakes the room
Sonic boom
Bright white hot lighting splits the night into
Darkness resumes
The rain pours down trying to drown everything, that's for certain
Glistening wet curtain
The wind is bending the trees to it's will, making house shingles fly
Look to the sky
Destruction is on the horizon, The finger of God is on the ground
No safe haven found
The funnel cloud again ascends into the heavens, leaving behind a shattered earth
What's the cost,the worth
The morning light brings silence, only the sounds of the mothers crying
The fathers sighing
Broken boards, tattered dreams, toppled trees
What's become of me
You'll find my body in the field, I road the winds, soul ripped from my mortal shell
Suck up to heaven, thrown down to hell
©Pauline Russell
My skin glisten
It begins as the sun goes down in the coal black inky darkness of night
Layer of fright
Thunder so loud it rattles the windows, shakes the room
Sonic boom
Bright white hot lighting splits the night into
Darkness resumes
The rain pours down trying to drown everything, that's for certain
Glistening wet curtain
The wind is bending the trees to it's will, making house shingles fly
Look to the sky
Destruction is on the horizon, The finger of God is on the ground
No safe haven found
The funnel cloud again ascends into the heavens, leaving behind a shattered earth
What's the cost,the worth
The morning light brings silence, only the sounds of the mothers crying
The fathers sighing
Broken boards, tattered dreams, toppled trees
What's become of me
You'll find my body in the field, I road the winds, soul ripped from my mortal shell
Suck up to heaven, thrown down to hell
©Pauline Russell
Published 8th Jan 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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9th Jan 2017 4:21am
This would be the perfect of his wrath......
..........except I know the truth that lies within his ressurection and my undying faith abides in the fact that he always knows what is best (and it doesn't always look the way we interpret it.) His ways and thoughts are not ours.
Excellent ink :-)
..........except I know the truth that lies within his ressurection and my undying faith abides in the fact that he always knows what is best (and it doesn't always look the way we interpret it.) His ways and thoughts are not ours.
Excellent ink :-)
9th Jan 2017 1:35pm
This poem actually has nothing to do with God. The finger of God, is what a tornado is also called this where I live. Thank you so much for reading and taking time to comment. :)
9th Jan 2017 5:35am
9th Jan 2017 1:36pm
Anonymous
- Edited 27th Dec 2019 12:45pm
9th Jan 2017 3:59pm
<< post removed >>
9th Jan 2017 5:25pm
