Poem Hunter
The Cylcone
PLH ( / Aylesbury, Bucks, England)

The Cylcone

Poem By P. L. Hunter

We are confused heartsore bloodied and raw
We reel like drunkards who cannot drink any more
But you Domoina hissed and spat gorged yourself full
You reared and charged like a big angry bull
You rose and rose till your water covered our land
Then being replete, you belched out the sand

Frail bodies now dead. Families torn apart
You wretch Domoina, you went for our heart
Cattle are missing much damage to our cane
You Domoina have caused us this pain
What costs Domoina who pays your bill?
We're paying Domoina and paying still

But the flood waters rise and then they fall
We're not beaten Domoina, we're still on the ball
The faith we have seen the courage that was shown
Quick repairs were effected missions of mercy flown
Our lives continue as the rescue work goes on
But you Domoina have perished and gone.

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