Week#9 Onomatopoeia

 

Water rushing,

gushing,

Pushing past the limits of the edge.

Water barrels off the ledge,

whipping up the bottom sludge,

makes the water look like fudge,

growling with a freight train’s roar,

wildly rushes out some more.

 

You could harness all the power

as it flashes hour by hour

and will never, ever stop,

thickly loaded from the top.

Water flowing, swiftly whooshing,

always whisking, always pushing

to the river down below,

always rushing, never slow,

till it falls right past the islands,

gives it just another try and

with a mild and calming quiver,

it becomes a simple river.

It’s amazing if you spy it;

all that noise and then the

Quiet.