Woodland Held Against the Storm

by damommy

The dark gray clouds were forming canopies,
encouraged by the driving, freezing rains.
The wind was howling loud profanities,
while angrily attacking window panes,
declaring to the world its vanities,
how easily it alters our terrain.
The rain-carved rivulets run down the hill
and join the flow to sea with narrow rill.

The thunder shatters sleeping worlds awake
with rumbling, deaf’ning booms across the land,
and trembling trees stand fast as branches shake,
ignoring vicious tremors’ fierce demand,
their mighty roots will hold against a break,
and when the storm is done, yet they will stand.
Denuded though they are, the limbs reach out
in victory, surviving this, a fearsome bout.

The tempest had its time, it’s over now.
It put this ancient forest to the test,
and used its strength against each lofty bough.
Each limb and tiny twig though slightly stressed
withstood the raging onslaught, never bowed.
And now the birds and creatures are at rest
while basking in the warmth sent by the sun.
Another nature’s battle has been won.

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Recognized

An Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme:

one octive poem. abababcc
two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff
three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii

...so on and so on.

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An octtava rima

Woodland Held Against the Storm

by damommy

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