An Alabaster figure aching for a run.
The wind swirling heavily, whipping
The waves into a crashing, foamy salute.
The plop of rain beating into the Sea...
A whinny and a soft screech.
The Stallion gallops on the pale beach...
So mythical, so magical, so ghostly and eerie.
Bucking hard and voicing its excitement.
Clammering onto the water, splashes heard
Above the True sounds of Thunder.
Lightning flashes, outlining this Stallion
In an electrical flow as it gallops on,
His mane and tail whipped by the wind.
Riding the waves with hooves of blackened steel.
Prancing and trotting through the harshness of the storm...
The beauty of it all so completely Surreal.
Whinnies and noises of joy as the Stallion rides on full gallop.
Only to vanish when the next Sloop comes 'round.
The Sea Stallion's Ghost.
Author notes
http://litari.deviantart.com/art/Face-the-Storm-106801703
Picture Prompt: Face the Storm
Comments
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This is really beautiful! You sound much older than 15.
Line 8, though--is arching even a word? It doesn't seem to fit here...
I really like this poem, though.
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It indeed is a word, heh, but I agree.
Oh, I'm not even fifteen, I'm thirteen, I've been meaning to switch the age. Thank you for your comment!
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