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tyler-lynn-pulliamPoems
An unusual crowd gathers I can make out faces through every window Blank, staring, sea of faces Eyes fixed on the hillside across the way My house seems only an obstruction An optical obstacle obscuring an oncoming out pour Unblinking they look at that overgrown hill Where the wild brush spreads and those old rails stay planted Stretching east to west Those ******* rails that those ******* trains would rumble down at four in the morning Blaring their horns and shaking my bed Until the sun woke up on schedule, like clockwork Over and down the hillside, water starts to trinkle Slipping and sliding How ghastly it grows From stream to spout to rivers with rapids Until the tidal wave shows its face - blank, staring Eyes fixed on me In the face of the end, I turn and flee So many loved ones and trinkets to save But the water is up to my knees And the crowd - unmoving, unthinking Without a gasp or a word of dismay They open their mouths to drink in the doom Parched since the prelude for the secession of air Too late for nostalgia Impact. Empty handed the crow and dove shall return
0
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
Like Ashes, I Crumble (A Midwestern Tsunami)
An unusual crowd gathers I can make out faces through every window Blank, staring, sea of faces Eyes fixed on the hillside across the way My house seems only an obstruction An optical obstacle obscuring an oncoming out pour Unblinking they look at that overgrown hill Where the wild brush spreads and those old rails stay planted Stretching east to west Those ******* rails that those ******* trains would rumble down at four in the morning Blaring their horns and shaking my bed Until the sun woke up on schedule, like clockwork Over and down the hillside, water starts to trinkle Slipping and sliding How ghastly it grows From stream to spout to rivers with rapids Until the tidal wave shows its face - blank, staring Eyes fixed on me In the face of the end, I turn and flee So many loved ones and trinkets to save But the water is up to my knees And the crowd - unmoving, unthinking Without a gasp or a word of dismay They open their mouths to drink in the doom Parched since the prelude for the secession of air Too late for nostalgia Impact. Empty handed the crow and dove shall return
tyler-lynn-pulliam
Written by
tyler-lynn-pulliam
American
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
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