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Weather Warrior

The Weather Warrior
Joe Pickles


He stands majestic, towers above all

The warrior of weather

Relentless and cruel

His stormy eye

The only centre of peace

A figure of grey

As destructive as a tank

Leaving chaos in his wake


His malice is unbearable

A hammer of rain

Pounding the land

The sword of a flood

Slashing a path through the ground

Arrows of hail

Stinging those below

Spears of lightning, smiting


He tears away sails,

Boats become wrecks

His rage is a hurricane

Scooping up objects

Then casting them aside

In a blizzard of fury

A path of destruction

Storming across the land


Onward he marches

Stamping trees flat

Then hauling them up

And hurling them on

Stalking his prey

Wild as a rabid dog

Small town in view

He marches undeterred towards it


They board up windows

They wield umbrellas

Which are snatched from their hands

They dash for shelter

Scurry away

The wind tugs at their coats

Howling a warning –

Fight or flee


With a mighty roar

The warrior unleashes his fury

Whips at buildings

Rips doors open

Flips cars over

Forcing them down

Like helpless beetles

To feel the worst of his wrath


Then bright cracks splinter his armour

They gather strength and grow

He emits a moan of defeat

Before the sun’s sword tears through him

And a wave of white clouds rolls across a blue canvas

The sun smiles,

Grateful his obscuring enemy is banished

…for a while at least




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