[stylist] New poem

[Jacobson, Shawn D via stylist]

Yes

"Children of the storm" is the name of the poem.

The celebration is Veisha (I believe this is spelled right) that is a annual celebration at Iowa State University.  This year, it degenerated into a drunken riot and was canceled; that is what the poem is about.  I happened to be in Iowa visiting relatives when it happened and was in Ames the day before and the day after the riot.

Also, the school nickname is "Cyclones".  This was part of the inspiration.

Thanks for reading the poem and for feeling it was worth asking about.

Shawn

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Ashley Bramlett via stylist
Sent: Monday, May 26, 2014 7:39 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] New poem

to clarify, is it called children of the storm?
Which celebration is this meant to refer to?

-----Original Message----- 
From: Jacobson, Shawn D
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2014 12:18 PM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List (stylist at nfbnet.org)'
Subject: [stylist] New poem

Below find a new poem I wrote just recently.  I hope you like it.

Shawn

Children of the Storm

After the fury, silence
the restaurant talk is subdued
on the morning after.
With dull fear and jagged shock
we survey the ruin, the riot storm
set loose the night before.
The feast day shattered, sundered
by their stormy rage.

Darkly I wonder why
what dread spirit turned
this celebration dark, a dread cyclone.
Fierce, angry like dangerous weather,
and bid them caper before the storm
destroying with senseless rage
the celebration made for them
in honor of this place.

What should I say now?
I came here to eat, not judge.
Yet I cannot stay aloof,
removed from all of this.
These cyclonic rioters are mine
my people, my tribe.
So I must own the shock,

the rage, the storm.
So I to must ponder
such dark enchantments
that call the storm from within
the anger and the rage,
the destroying fury of the storm
for I must own the cyclone in my soul
That sunders sanity leaving only shards.

In the storm's shadow
we have unleashed our violence.
We are spent cyclones.

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