In Tune With Hurricane Winds
© Surazeus
2018 10 09
Delicate petals of the yellow rose
gathers sunlight from the eyes of lost souls
who wander tangled field of goldenrods
which collect the grief falling from their hands.
Rain drenches the corpse of the man who lies
pale among rotting sunflowers that bend
black under oppression of mute despair
because nameless people wander nowhere.
Winds of the tropical storm whirling wild
from the hurricane of arrogant pride
blast the small town and flood its leafy streets
where people huddle stranded on rooftops.
Escaping the church flooded by green waves,
the group of people hold hands as they wade
through gushing stream to the strip joint and bar,
the only brick building on higher ground.
After eating burgers and drinking beer,
they sing hymns in tune with hurricane winds,
then share stories of their lives with the strangers
who have always lived in the same small town.
The young girl with eyes blue as summer sky
sings Amazing Grace while they all hold hands,
then cuddles the cat she found in wet grass
as they were running inside from the wind.
The young father with his wife and five children
tries to drive the van over the small bridge,
but the gushing current sweeps it away
and they all tumble lifeless in green waves.
Two girls, walking home to escape the storm,
talk about favorite songs by Taylor Swift,
when the bullet a man shoots at some looters
hits the shoulder of the girl with black hair.
Crying from shock, she grips her bleeding shoulder,
then they run to the house where their aunt lives
who digs out the bullet and sews the wound
shut with needle and thread while the storm howls.
The old man who sits by the flickering fire,
listening to wind tear rose bushes apart,
remembers traveling through Spain years before
to paint people who live in villages.
Stopping where two roads diverged out of town,
he saw the young girl in white tattered dress
weeping as she gazed at her red balloon,
then let it go so it floated away.
My heart is that balloon in the vast sky,
the old man whispers to his frightened dog
as flood waters seep into his old house,
and rise to drown out his lost memories.
© Surazeus
2018 10 09
Delicate petals of the yellow rose
gathers sunlight from the eyes of lost souls
who wander tangled field of goldenrods
which collect the grief falling from their hands.
Rain drenches the corpse of the man who lies
pale among rotting sunflowers that bend
black under oppression of mute despair
because nameless people wander nowhere.
Winds of the tropical storm whirling wild
from the hurricane of arrogant pride
blast the small town and flood its leafy streets
where people huddle stranded on rooftops.
Escaping the church flooded by green waves,
the group of people hold hands as they wade
through gushing stream to the strip joint and bar,
the only brick building on higher ground.
After eating burgers and drinking beer,
they sing hymns in tune with hurricane winds,
then share stories of their lives with the strangers
who have always lived in the same small town.
The young girl with eyes blue as summer sky
sings Amazing Grace while they all hold hands,
then cuddles the cat she found in wet grass
as they were running inside from the wind.
The young father with his wife and five children
tries to drive the van over the small bridge,
but the gushing current sweeps it away
and they all tumble lifeless in green waves.
Two girls, walking home to escape the storm,
talk about favorite songs by Taylor Swift,
when the bullet a man shoots at some looters
hits the shoulder of the girl with black hair.
Crying from shock, she grips her bleeding shoulder,
then they run to the house where their aunt lives
who digs out the bullet and sews the wound
shut with needle and thread while the storm howls.
The old man who sits by the flickering fire,
listening to wind tear rose bushes apart,
remembers traveling through Spain years before
to paint people who live in villages.
Stopping where two roads diverged out of town,
he saw the young girl in white tattered dress
weeping as she gazed at her red balloon,
then let it go so it floated away.
My heart is that balloon in the vast sky,
the old man whispers to his frightened dog
as flood waters seep into his old house,
and rise to drown out his lost memories.
No comments:
Post a Comment