{"id":18290,"date":"2016-08-13T10:10:35","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T14:10:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=18290"},"modified":"2016-08-14T11:03:18","modified_gmt":"2016-08-14T15:03:18","slug":"our-rustic-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/our-rustic-life\/","title":{"rendered":"Our rustic life #1"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Thatched umbrellas snapped open.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Our village, our home already in pieces, broken.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>The sky darkening into an ugly shade of grey,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Desperate for attention, ranted and raved.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Blotched and boiling with fiery rage,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Biting cheeks and knees (as if confining us into a cage)<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Heavy sobbing and shuddering,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Thrashing, wailing and smothering.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Silencing the squawking migrating cranes,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>It shot arrows of fear so cleverly well- aimed.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Swollen tears and destruction at its wake<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Effortless done, in fact, a piece of cake<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>A torrential downpour with droplets<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Like incoming bullets.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Hell bent on tasteless revenge,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>The sky gleefully happy to see our world drenched.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>The clouds churlish and smoky grey, brooded in the air,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>All the green shoots below uprooted (this was its lair)<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Again, the air cackled to life<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Silencing our whispering and mumbles with a sharp knife.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Pitter, patter, pitter, patter- a monotonous melody.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Streaks of lightening arrived tentatively.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>Only a blanket of silence, almost tangible, remained,<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>As we tried futilely to keep sane.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Thatched umbrellas snapped open. Our village, our home already in pieces, broken. The sky darkening into an ugly shade of grey, Desperate for attention, ranted and raved. &nbsp; Blotched and boiling with fiery rage, Biting cheeks and knees (as if confining us into a cage)&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":729,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,441],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18290","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-poetry-prompt-responses"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18290","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/729"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18290"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18290\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29009,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18290\/revisions\/29009"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18290"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18290"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18290"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}