Tag Archives: #Storms

What day is it?

Days are a construct.

We have a sequence

of nights and days,

that have been sorted

into groups of seven.

These were given names,

around the world,

that individualise them within a week,

but they are not unique.

A Wednesday rocks up,

then, seven days later,

it rocks up again –

as do the other days.

They give storms and hurricanes

individual names –

perhaps restricting ‘them’ to seven

would be possible?

At least they would be further apart

than every seventh day.

Tomorrow is Cancelled

Tomorrow (Friday)

is cancelled.

Bypass it

and wake up

Saturday.

Wake up

with storm Eunice

behind you,

and Storms Freya, Garibaldi,

Henry, Imogen, JellyRoll, et al

laying over a distant horizon.

Dudley, then Eunice,

then Alphabetised storms for ever more,

but that is then,

this is now:

Let Friday be gone,

and let begones be begones –

you know you want to.

Storm Dennis Limerick

There was a big storm they named Dennis,

Which made it quite hard to play tennis:

When blowing a gale,

With wind, rain and hail,

it resembled a street walk in Venice.

“A walk to the Hurlers”

‘A walk to the Hurlers,

is just what you need.’ they said.

So, I set off straight away,

with my sturdy boots,

my rambling stick,

and my curlers still warm on my head.

‘It will leave you feeling awed and inspired’,

they told me -it was possibly true;

but, it was blowing a hoolie,

and cats and dogs

were falling from a sky,

that was the blackest shade of blue.

I watched, as the mizzle soaked me to the skin,

and the West wind knocked my socks off,

it was just the sort of weather

that would knock the steeples and their steeplecocks off.

I may have been hasty,

with my skin tone so pasty,

and my allergic reaction to rain;

so, when I came out in a rush,

I was soon out in a rash;

and made a mad dash for the tea-rooms.

Where I dripped a lot,

and thawed,

then expired.