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The Fury 1

Updated on September 13, 2011

A lady of gentle intent,
Placid face in all extent,
But foul her
Or fool her
And she becomes the Fury.
She will twist her winds
And damnation sends
A calling card of destruction,
No longer a lady of seduction,
She is the Fury.
She will thrash her waters upon the rocks,
As the lightning shocks,
The tormented sky,
Where no eagle can fly.
Is she sorry?
No, she is the Fury.
She will spew fire from her angry mind,
Drenching the sweetness of her womankind.
She will take the Orca to task,
Allowing no sun to bask,
Upon her shivering soil.
She is the Fury.
Yet, if given a choice,
She uses a gentler voice,
She lounges in lavender fair,
Draping roses as ribbons in her long hair.
She loves with the intensity of a natural force,
But if from serenity, she is divorced,
She will become the dreaded Fury.


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