Poetry‎ > ‎


The clouds weep at their own pathetic fallacy.
Oh sweet irony how you become truth
Perched high above the action
Helpless in their dream to become wanted
They remain perpetually frowned upon
Though people must look up to them
No respect is shown for their cause
In spite of it being a will not of their own

Only a matter of days pass before it's time
For the clouds to wreak their 'unwanted' revenge
They remain defiant til the end
Knowing that fulfilling this forced destiny
Shall in fact evaporate their dwindling life
But alas there will be more
Samples of the strongest clouds are taken
And from them a new generation of woeful blankets shall emerge
And the cycle shall begin again

The clouds will forever be trapped in their vast space
Forced to regurgitate their eternal cycle
Although never forgotten they will be forever overshadowed by the mighty fire
The one they say rules the sky with tyrannical precision
However there are those few chances that are seized by the clouds
En mass they too are a potent foe
They wrap around the sky and roar to Earth
No more shall there be warmth
No more shall the fiery ball control the skies
Everyone is thrown into an uneasy ambiguity
Unable to predict just when this new force is going to unleash its wrath

The sky parts and there is once more peace
Peaceful clouds return after the wave of terror
But they are scorned and beaten by the actions of their parents
Poor clouds, how could anyone understand their feelings?
They close their heavy eyelids and their tears trickle once again, down to earth

A J Mallen