Dischord

Poem Body

You tear up the night
shredding clouds, bruising sky
with your untamed, unchained symphony.
Trees swing,
saplings split,
Twenty five feet of axle and aluminium
bend and flex as you
chew and spit out your fury
against thin walls.
Inside,
curtains sashay,
cups slide,
we are all forced to the beat
of your Danse Macabre.
Only one of us
cocooned, slumbers on
mindless that the end of our world
is within your grasp.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Am not sure about elsewhere in the world, but in the UK caravans are popular. A large aluminium structure, you tow with a vehicle and then you can pitch camp wherever takes your fancy. Slightly more sophisticated than the gypsy caravans' of old, but a modern version of them. Same principle. Anyway, I was in ours, in the middle of nowhere, when the tail end of Storm Doris hit. This is the poetic result.

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Yorkshire England, GBR

Comments

Discord

An excellent description of a storms rage
So much destruction in it's rampage
You have summed it up here very well
A storm survived so you could tell

Thank you kindly for the story

hello Ja Ja

and thank you for taking the time to read and comment.
Jx

your poem

I really like everything up to Dance Macabre. A you know the states have had their share of hurricanes, including the largest ever recorded. In trailer home parks and gypsy camps its the same.
So your poem has a universal to it, describing "chew and spit out your fury" . You are very good at painting a sketch with great color.
I get lost with

Only one of us
cocooned, slumbers on
mindless that the end of our world
is within your grasp.

Is that a child? Whoever it is it has not been introduced, and I have no frame of reference for it.
Nor am I sure I totally understand the intended message. I think the poem needs a punchline to the well described discord- the forces of nature, the destruction of nature, or your deepest feelings about the experience having survived it...
My take.

Hi Mark

Thanks for your great feedback as ever, always enjoy your input.
I do disagree with you though, but that's ok, we can't or shouldn't always see eye to eye.
There is another person in the caravan, who slept through it all - mindless that the storm had the strength to annihilate not only us, but also the strength to change our world. As indeed the people of St Martin in the Caribbean know all to their cost - and elsewhere, we just happen to have a friend who lives in St Martin.
You don't need to know who they are, just that they were unaware of the strength of nature.
The key point is that the end of our world could be achieved by nature its self, as well as human forces, hence the personification. There is a parallel there.
Jx

Did you know that "Danse Macabre" is also the title

of Stephen King's non-fiction work on the horror genre? Quite a good read. He refers in it to the revelation of the 'monster', something to the effect that when you open the door and see it it is ten feet tall, claws and gore, but before you open the door it could have been twenty feet tall, claws, gore and munching on a child's head. The point being to allow the imagination as free reign as possible.

This poem made me think of that. We have seen on the news the horrors of Katrina and other atmospheric monstrosities but I felt you could have kept the fear more internalised for longer. After all, it will kill us or it won't, it is the fear that is the key.

Nonetheless an effective write and that sleeping soul does add a poignant counterpoint.

Storms scare me less than they should. I'm just intoxicated by the raw fury and destructive power of them.