Category Archives: Flooding

Hurricane Florence makes an unwelcome appearance. She’s big, bold, loud and depressingly nasty, and she don’t want to budge. And she’s slowly making advances.

Cold Clammy Hands.

The wind did howl
The hard rain did fall,
The weather, diabolically foul,
Over Carolina Florence did stall.

See the water rise?
It’s lapping at the door!
Perhaps it would be wise
To step up to the second floor?

See, the waters ankle deep-
Now it’s over knocking knees-
Now it’s creeping coldly up the thighs-
It’s enough to make one’s privates freeze.

Advertisements

The weather is a’changing at this time of season and catches the best of us out at times. On the other hand, maybe I’m a bit of a wet blanket.

Bob Dylan Walking Talking Hypochondriac Blues.

I felt moved to put on the trainers today,
The autumnal sky a riot of grey upon grey,
To step out without a parka was tempting fate-
Next time I won’t be so unthinkingly precipitate.

I prefer to exorcise my thoughts on my own,
Soothed by iTunes, ear buds and the iPhone,
To put behind me ruminations of nuclear cataclysms,
Pounding the pavement is good for the biorythms.

I trundled along as a downloaded Dylan setlist played,
Bob mournfully sayin’ how far from home he’d strayed,
When I saw a flash of lightning, and after a moments pause
A thunder clap, then from Heavens above down she pours.

Four miles from home and soaked to the skin,
Without my parka ’twas quite the pickle I was in,
My nice new blue Nikes turning an execreble brown,
Pristine white socks bleeding blue as it pisĀ  hissed down.

Four miles splashing home was a long hard haul,
Not helped by Bob’s jolly ‘A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall’
After ‘Buckets Of Rain’ then ‘Shelter From The Storm’
A coolness towards Bob’s insights had begun to form.

All the way home the storm continued to rage,
It hadn’t rained like this since Noah’s Archaic age,
All my miserable way home the rains continued to lash,
Arrived freezing, sporting sodden shirt shorts and a rash.

So now I’m laid low in bed with a bad case of croup,
My wife offers no sympathy but a bowl of chicken soup,
With trembling hands and lips I croaked a pitiable ‘Thank you,’
She left for work, shaking her head, sniffily saying ‘Man Flu.’

But I knew I was sickening, convinced I was getting worse,
So I staggered to the Doctors, to be told to wait by the nurse,
Here I wait shivering, in anticipation some good Doctor shows up
Before this long suffering drip turns his chillblained toes up.

The President looks into the eye of the storm, and what does he see?

Hitting Home Where It Hurts.

Don watched unhappily as Irma ripped through the Caribbean,
It was enough to whiten the face of the most bronzed Floridian,
In Maryland, monitoring Fox’s monitors his eyes grew ever bigger;
Camp David’s quite close enough to the action for this leading figure.

Donald certainly didn’t mind Cuba taking a hit,
Commies getting blasted worry him not one whit,
But when he sees the Land of the Free is in Irma’s path
Far too much prime Florida Real Estate is in line for a bath.

Now the size of the approaching apocalypse is finally grasped
He kneels, and together two tiny trembling hands are clasped,
A thought for the poor, the homeless, all those lost and scared,
And he prays, like a man possessed… that Mar-a-Lago be spared.

The PresiDon shows up in Texas to help out- for the second time. Ain’t the great State doubly blessed?

As Big As Texas.

Flying back home Don cast down an eye,
-As one does when in the sky, from on high,
Looking down on those tiny toiling peasants
Don truly felt they’d be buoyed by his presence.

He’d seen Corpus Christi and Galveston,
By Houston he’d felt his duty had been done,
But for once had his leaving been precipitous?
Could this devastating event also be serendipitous?

At the thought, a lump rose to his throat-
A photo op- and he’d almost missed the boat,
Sadly Texas had suffered terribly in the deluge;
Therefore chances of bolstering his image were HUGE.

Melania thought she was safely back on the ground
When Donald announced they were turning around,
Donald’s entourage of advisers broke into a cold sweat
Seeing yet another Donald Trump breath-taking pirouette.

Don’s going to show us he had the common touch-
There’s a thought that shouldn’t worry him overmuch-
Weird, how one who puts such store in what he’s worth
Wishes to show po’ down home folks he’s down to earth.

Those who said Don’s vain, shallow, proud and aloof
Will meet with Dons swift return and righteous reproof,
Imagine how good him tousling some poor tykes Afro looks?
Surely THAT’S got to get our guy into Someones good books?

After smiling and posing till his face hurts
Dons had enough of dealing with little squirts,
So he finds a private place to don his galoshes
And edges right up to where the floodwater washes.

There he stands, staring, brooding, in a brown study,
The water Harvey delivered looks cold murky and muddy,
When faced with a flood of epic, nay, of biblical proportions
Dons next step is bold, despite what that inner voice cautions.

As he realises he has to forgo his long held belief
Its a chilling moment for the Commander-in-chief,
With heavy heart he sees how swiftly his foot sinks,
‘No walking on the water yet,’ Don despondently thinks.

Don goes South, bringing glad tidings, and a million dollar bailout. Thanks a bucketload, Sir.

Show Boat.

When Main Street looks more like a boatyard,
When canoeists row ’round inner-city boulevards,
When rain is measured not by the inch but by the yard
Will Don pour more funds into his Coast or Border Guards?

After Katrina left Bush with a failed report card
Donald diligently drops by to give Texas his regards,
That sad sodden state sure does look sorrily ill-starred,
First Harvey, then Donald- two most unwelcome blowhards.