Bob's "The Storm of War" turns a thunderstorm into a picture of battle. Each of the first three lines uses a simile to link a piece of weather with violence: rain pooling like blood, thunder screaming like the cry of death, lightning slashing like a blade. Nothing in the sky is gentle here. Every natural detail is drawn as something that wounds or kills.
The last line shifts the focus. The storm "rages on, without regret," which makes it sound almost like a person, or a force, that feels no guilt for the damage it causes. The speaker seems to be saying that war works the same way: it keeps going, indifferent to the suffering it leaves behind. The tone isn't personal or tearful. It's cold and observant, and the mood is grim and relentless. The short, steady lines add to that feeling, as if the storm, like the war, simply cannot be stopped.