Sandy storms are vile, the grainy Feelings build. Panic’s near, ghastly Whispers whip with wind, grown gravely Through the buried people gnarly. Original Image Advertisements Share this:TwitterFacebookGoogleLike this:Like Loading... Related TaggedBlogDeathImageryLifeNaturePoetryQuatrainSandstormTrochaic TetrameterUnrhymedWriting Mr. X I am a writer, poet, philosopher, and martial artist. I seek to be the best I can be at everything I love and that includes writing. I hope to share it with the world and improve upon it for as long as I live.