Flurry

Tossed and blown about,

To the rhythm of every looming wind of emotions,
Here I stand under the pouring rain.
To wash away some tears shed again,
Cool the erupted emissions of this burning flame,
Flame of vengeance, flame of anger, flame of hatred,
Here I stand on this pilgrim way,
Of royals who smile, upon every stumbling pain,
Of a Saul waiting to be buried in pain,
A heart bruised a prisoner of internal jail,
Fears’ the jail within the pouring rain.
Weeping for a life lost: for justice delayed,
Weep ooh weep for,
Hope bears upon her hands, fete.
Of minds trouped and troubles doubled
Minds meant to make way on a trembling grain
Of sand and dust, to wash by the pouring rain

WHEN THE WIND HAS CHANGED IT'S BLOW

When the wind changed its blow,

And the sun shines no more

I recall my one precious vow

And one special time I’d bow

When nothing but;

Memories seems to know

When the wind has changed its blow

How better I’d be with raining tears

While plucking strings sings no more

Nor birds by summer seems to know

The sound that pleases my ears,

My ears have known no fear

Than the fear of thee gone astray

And the wind changed its flow

And the only bread I’ve got

Is to wish you were gone, not

And find the road back home

Lest my heart be gone

Home, to the dudgeon flame of cry

Sorrow knows no blow,

Than the wind that changed its flow

© Robie Nson 2014