Tempest
And all the world is threatening.
Thunderstorm.
Black Clouds of imperfection
Loom immanent.
Imminent, like the Angel
Of Death, himself.
Killing, your foetal rhymes
Dead, before they’re even born.
Thunderstorm.
Black Clouds of imperfection
Loom immanent.
Imminent, like the Angel
Of Death, himself.
Killing, your foetal rhymes
Dead, before they’re even born.
Giovanna Lucarelli is a soon-to-be-graduate of an English Literature and American Studies degree from the University of Birmingham. She’s a culture vulture, writer, dreamer, foodie; with reggae in her soul, art in her heart and a vintage state of mind.
1 comment
Rohini Sunderam says:
May 14, 2012
Pithy and powerful. Especially felt – or rather shuddered at – “killing your foetal rhymes”. Speaks to me of tempests within and without. Thank you.
Rohini