An African Storm
A whisper,
White, there and gone,
To reappear, and float in silent drift.
Rising, it bulges, billows, and churns,
Climbing, a tumult of swirling steam,
The stratosphere in targeted display,
It's weight, oh it's weight,
Darkening in leaden'd overloaded base,
The thunder cloud, a shadowed storm in moment rests.
And then the dash, the streak,
Ferocious,
Thrashes in darting anger,
A parched land awaits.
It soars and hisses, rumbling, exploding, deafening,
The thunder storm breaks.
The land,
It sighs, and sucks the giant tears,
The tears that rush and gush,
From below the darkened eye,
The darkened eye of an African thunder storm.
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As if thunder, caught
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Thunder in my head
Pleasure confined
Hunger inside that needs to be fed
Lightning all around
Storming within
Storm
the skies, a dark and morbid purple shade
a rumble deep in the clouds, they make their way
still, with the parade, I
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There was no
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by Mataba
An African Storm
A whisper,
White, there and gone,
To reappear, and float in silent drift.
Rising, it bulges, billows,
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Poetry: Storms
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