The funnel touches down
Upon the quivering Earth,
Raw power unleashed
On the scattering mortals.
Upon the hill stands
That one lone tree,
Immune to the lightening
And the breeze,
Without a drop of rain
Touching it's still leaves.
And I sit, calm
As a lake in June,
Writing you, a letter,
My last words.
You'll never get it,
I supposse, at least
Not until I give in
To the raw power below.
Author notes
I try to write daily, but I haven't been able to. I tried today to make myself write something, but for the first time in my life I actually tore a page out of one of my poetry journals because it sucked so much.
So I did get some stuff out of this that I wanted to share. I thought it would be a good idea for other people to attempt if they end up with writer's block also.
I closed my eyes and listened, and the first thing I heard I wrote about. That was the wind, although it ended up being a twister in this.
Written August 14th, 2003
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Comments
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Writer's block can be one of the best things that happens to us. I have found that some of my best writing came when I thought I didn't have a damn thing to say. I especially like the image you have placed here. And this is great, you should try to cultivate writer's block more often. --B
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I loved the imagery in this poem. You were able to describe everything with such beauty. This is the first of your writings i've gotten to read and look forward to reading more.
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