Storm Warning by Susan E Birch.

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STORM WARNING

She listened quietly
To the usual tirade
Of petty disappointments
And the expected parade
of peevish digs and slights
Hurled with venom and spite
At all he had in his sights.
Ah but then it came, at last,
To her turn, as expected.
His finale, his blast
of ‘special-brand’ invective.

The tune was cracked and old
She had listened half her life
As he told and retold
How she failed him as a wife.
He needed someone to blame,
Someone to subjugate
To hide and mask his shame.
A target for his hate
To hide his futility
And to substantiate
His need to elevate
By grinding her down
To where he could dominate.

Unaware that she had roused
From years of mind-reeling
non-feeling in which she’d been housed.
He sipped his tea.
The vessel too fine and small,
Fit only for a passing squall.
He caught her alien glance
As their marital life darkened
With clouds of no chance
And brief lightning flashes
of the Final solution.

© Susan E Birch – 2014

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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