by John Herzog
At whom should I scream?
The clouds for obscuring the sunlight?
The wind for blowing me away?
Or the people on the sidewalk who,
when asked for directions,
sent me down the wrong street
to some God-awful restaurant
serving stale breadsticks?
after the sun has set,
am I the wind that lost control?
It's easy to blame the dusty, swirling tornado
for twisting me apart
when I ran into the midst of it.
Author's Note: I don't even know.
Posted on 05/31/2009
Copyright © 2021 John Herzog
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kris Mara on 05/31/09 at 09:40 PM|
some wise words in here, presented very well.
|Posted by Amy Manning on 07/21/11 at 02:37 PM|
I got you. I feel this way sometimes, but can never name it, so I just write down odd little snippets of thoughts in a composition notebook. I'm glad you could make poetry out of it.
|Posted by Kris Mara on 09/19/18 at 02:17 PM|
...so well done, your voice is unmistakable....and I think I know that tornado...