This poem only reads right when the picture of Pulpit Rock is displayed, then the reader can see the music of the storm


Suicide

I stand atop Pulpit Rock
The caves of limestone, vibrating drums
Crashing waves of sound in symphony
Taught seaweed old and brown above the tide
Whistling with the wind, the strings of a violin
Shingle moving with the tide, applause
As the waves come marching in
A squall, a sudden shower of heavy rain
Dropping the curtain across Pulpit Rock
The surging tide lifts, music once again
Crashing of the cymbals, a thunderclap
Of sound that fills the sky
Flashing lightning spotlights the maestro
As the symphonies crescendo passes by
Pilpit Rock, where the symphony died.