grinded leaf smell after storms, furious whirlwind knocks down oak trees. rocks splinter at plunged points, cramps set in old engine spokes. soupy chocolate beneath cold feet, rotten froth dampens the ground. dinged up red stained swing set, homes keeled over. cluttered cliffs thunder cloud moon hangs high, a milk-white film. clapboard roofing flies, cars spin out on sloppy roads, mailboxes blow off posts. cyclone bolt of lightning flashes, brown rain water splatters week old residue, rust color in muddy tire rims. trail of empty brokenness, an unclean mess. blemished skies meet hands clapping together, downpour orchestra where silver streaks implode. housetop and asphalt ensemble, slapping window panes, crickets fiddling in torched tips. bended branches dancing, thunder holds the eye of storm. cutting chill, messed up streets, shutters bang like drums. fingers scratching washboards in backdoor jamboree jug bands. lit-up sky like a firecracker, rain puts out fires. panpipes whistle, the chords are a eulogy to snakeskins of parted days.
Author's note: This poem is about the aftermath of rainstorms. I find the ruins they create to be interesting. I was inspired by the rainy fall we've been having these past few days. I started thinking about what it sounds and looks like during and after a downpour.