[stylist] New poem

[Barbara HAMMEL via stylist]

LOL! Glad I'm a Hawkeye fan.
Barbara

Sent from my iPhone

> On May 28, 2014, at 9:54 PM, "Barbara Hammel via stylist" <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> And it may not have been in that era but now it's just an excuse to get totally plowed and act stupid.  They stopped it for a few years just because of what happened this year.
> Barbara
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost
> -----Original Message----- From: Jackie Williams via stylist
> Sent: Wednesday, May 28, 2014 8:19 PM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: Re: [stylist] New poem
> 
> 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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