Three Word Prompt: f14 POETRY Student: Flow, Slow, Blow
A storm is coming. Hear the cold wind blow
What else approaches me with ill intent?
A fear is growing in me, fast, although
I cannot understand the fury's bent.
The fright builds quickly, but my mind is slow
To grasp its meaning, fighting through a haze
Of anxious guesses, vague complaints, and woe
And still the truth eludes me down the maze.
Like flurries, panic falls with steady flow
What can I do to extricate my chains
From this round, massive iron ball, and go
The opposite direction from the drains
That threaten to pull me directly down
Into a hell of loved one's endless frown?
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Wow! A poignant question indeed.
- #448 Posted 6 years ago
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- Published 6 years ago.
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