[stylist] New poem

[Jackie Williams via stylist]

Shawn,
Your poem and Barbara's comments were a complete shock to me. In 1947 I
attended  Iowa State College. My father had gotten his doctorate there, in
Chemical Engineering. I enrolled in Home Economics, failed chemistry loved
the Campanile in the center of the beautiful campus, and the tea dances at
the student union. Somehow, rage does not equate at all with my memories'
did not graduate from there, but quit for two years to work out west, and
returned to Syracuse  for my undergraduate degree in '52. You must be a
graduate of Iowa State. Lots  of my family history is in Iowa.
A good graphic and harrowing poem.


Jackie Lee

Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz	 

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Jacobson,
Shawn D
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2014 9:19 AM
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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