The Thunderer

I stand still among the blowing grasses
And north, the growing rumble passes
A thundering of hooves upon the plain
A cloud of dust rises, no wind can contain

Over the north rise the Thunderer appears
A gray stallion followed closely by rain tears
A furious storm follows fast upon his heels
And hell, as lightning and thunder, peals

The stallion races, galloping over the land
His mighty hooves leave prints in the sand
His silvery mane whips in the shadowed light
As he sprints to outrace the following storm

As I stand still among the blowing grasses
I scarce see the silver shadow that passes
But I feel and hear the fierce stallion's cry
As the might, gray Thunderer passes by

by Ivy Schex

Comments (1)

Ivy loved your poem, The Thunders are Native American spiritual beings and horses, Beautiful combination. I would recommend reading your Poem to your self a few times out loud. I noticed what I call a hicup in your poem. Unless you intentionaly changed the rythum of your poem. Rythum is when a poem just flows from your lips as you read it. Try it you will see what I mean. Nice job ******