Storm clouds

2.25 a Saturday a rumble in the sky
A storm is out there somewhere
It’s not exactly dry
Sleep most people are it seems
House steeped in dark
A poem from the ancient Bard
Leaving behind his mark

Miles away they are warring
Many souls are dying
Houses torn and falling down
Rubble some are lying
In their beds under the concrete
Limbless and scarred they be
Indiscriminate bombing
That the West doesn’t want to see

The Tories and the Labour lot
Have turned their blind eyes
Away from all the tragedy
Prefer to believe the lies
Being told by Israel
The settlers those who
Have blatantly stolen land and homes
It’s what the colonists do.

Just one clap of thunder
Clearly moving away
The world outside my window
Hasn’t much to say
The forest very close to me
Just upon the hill
Where Deer and Badger wander
And where Foxy, is still