The wind blows its cold icy breath
Battering and beating the trees.
They struggle and pull at the open air,
But no one’s there to help.
The sky unleashes its tears of pain,
Pounding on my face
And splatting in my hair.
The wind and the rain grow louder and stronger.
Pushing, screaming
Crying, shouting
They pull at the trees hair.
They slap people in the face.
We run and duck for cover,
But no one can escape.

The Eagle


He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in
lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea
beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a
thunderbolt he falls.


By Alfred Lord Tennyson



The Snake

 He slithers on the sun split ground;
Sitting on the water drained mound;
He whispers, breaking the still sound.
He watches like an army man;
He has his target and his plan;
And like a bullet his pray ran.


By Lara Stevens