Evening all.....I'll begin with a Bardish offering
The Cornish peal of thunder, the flash,
A Zeus hurled spear,
lighting the dark Bodmin canvas.
The rain falls pitter-patter,
against the sashed windows,
forming a droning rhythm.
Another enormous boom,
Thor's hammer strikes,
the rain becomes AB aggressive.
A wind gust,
stronger than a sqad patient problem
of monsoon anger, Bertha rages hard.
MoFCers find themselves scared,
this ex-hurricane weather,
reminds me to down another bucket.
The storm would rage,
inside my body,
a running buffet, real flatulent typhoon.
I now knew why,
the Towers' clouds never left,
a real dungeon torture,
lightning Igor quick - another Bertha please.