4-Minute Warning

 

4-minute warning.

Incoming.

Siren sounds swirl the air,

a cluster of people stare.

The wind blows in,

cold and painful,

stinging and hateful.

It comes with the force of a gale

and brings storms,

thunder, snow and hail.

 

Waiting

The 4-minute warning.

Feels like a lifetime,

thoughts rushing through your mind.

Sit like a weed withering away,

can't be the hand to hold

or a comforting shoulder to cry upon.

Just sit in the cold,

collecting dust.

 

4-minute warning.

Halfway to hell.

Sirens deafening,

alarms ring,

screaming, echoing.

Wailing to the sky,

fear floods the town,

looming shadows,

over the lands below,

as people cry out 'why?'

 

4-minute warning.

Howling through the night.

Crying like a dying wolf.

The wind blowing in violent spite,

against the violet sky.

Grey clouds,

no silver lining in sight.

Over fields below

a bellowed roar

as through the sky it soars.

The sound of a thousand angels crying

and all of the demons that walk the earth

can be heard softly sighing.

 

The East wind blows.

4-minute warning.

Get down below,

stay clear of windows

and pray to whoever you can.

Over head

the clouds kept in place.

This vortex of wind swirling,

a tornado of rage,

brimstone and flame.

Geysers of pain

and us at the centre

prisoners without a cage.

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love and Poetry 

 

Kyle