Tornado

It was dark and cold and the weather
threatened.
The downpour started with more to
come.
The lightning came down in great flashes
surrounding me.
Wind picked up, revealing this was
no ordinary storm.

I doubled my pace and looked around,
there was no where to hide for miles around.

Writhing with hunger for destruction
a funnel reached down
like an arm and grasped the ground.
The funnel was small but quickly enlarged.

Lightning flashed all around that murky darkness
I called a cloud.
But in this weather, I couldn't tell if it was a
cloud or the ground.
It looked, it seemed to have surrounded me.

Rain was a torrent
Tornado sped up.
I had no where to run, and no where to hide.

The funnel grew yet larger
And was now a half a mile wide.
I started to pray and hoped to live.
Tornado grew still larger
till it was a mile wide.

I ducked when I saw a large truck
go flying.

Then it turned to the east
sparing me its vengeance;
allowing me another day to live.
The city was gone
but I was spared.
Why it happens,
no one knows.

Reflection:
Every assignment I put on here is supposed to be revised. I am making an exception for this one because it has already been modified three to four times, I don't remember exactly how many. Nothing is ever perfect and I do not claim I have achieved perfection. But to make this better I think I would have to either rewrite the entire poem or add more than two stanzas to it. And that is more than a mere revision in my opinion. My reason for including this is that it is one of my favorite poems - and something I think I have made better over the years. This poem was what I used for my creative writing assignment. We were supposed to include a piece of work that we thought needed work and I choose this one. I originally wrote this in my sophomore year and then revised it in the early part of this year, my senior year. One of the reasons I like it is that while it is a poem it is also a story. I like the way that I was able to work a first person point of view into a poem. I have always been fascinated with natural disasters, especially tornados. I have even thought of going to Tornado Alley and becoming a tornado chaser, although I doubt that will happen. It is just a fascination of mine.

I hear America yelling

I hear America yelling, always tense; never happy.
Car horns screeching in the traffic, people ever hurried.
The husbands and wives throwing spiteful words at each other.
Dogs barking at each other, cats fighting over territory and each other.
Sailors cursing at their job while scrubbing the decks, captains barking orders at them to carry out.
Taxi passengers grumbling at their high prices, drivers refusing to budge and laughing to themselves.
Swimmers grumbling as they run out of breath, people watching and laughing at what a stupid thing they did.
Workers at McDonalds muttering under their breath and wishing they got a college degree and a better job.
Everyone is yelling, no one is happy these days!
Every person has something unique to complain about and they always do, they never focus on the bright side of life.
They yell out to the world about everything that is wrong, never stopping to smile and be happy for what is right.

The sounds of gunshot echo from the TV broadcast.
Cluster bombs explode, molding a once flat terrain into a huge crater.
I saw a pair of commercial airliners ram straight into what used to be the tallest buildings in Amercia.
"We only expected a few floors to collapse," gloated the so-called "mastermind" behind the attacks, showing no remorse, only happiness.
The state of the union address echoed through my living room with our president vowing to track down every terrorist in the world.
My footsteps beating against the ground while I walk to school after freshly seeing with my own eyes the twin towers starting to burn to a crisp.
The horrific silence in which a multitude of thoughts coursed through my mind.
Questions scream out at me wanting answers but finding only silence.
Myself soon shocked as I realize that this does not affect me like the rest of them.
They do not seem to like Americans.
That explosion that rocked the world still reels through our minds.
Their cause has not been helped, their jihad will only succeed in creating more ashes.

Reflection:
This was a poem I wrote last year. If I remember correctly this assignment was given after we read a Walt Whitman poem whose name eludes me at the moment. We were to write a poem in our words similar to the poem that Whitman wrote and this is what I came up with. It is interesting because it is both optimistic and pessimistic at the same time. It is an observer looking in upon a world all too familar and reflecting upon it. The second stanza sings a different tune than the first. While the first stanza is about America complaining, the second is a remembrance of the September 11 attacks. I did not write the first and second stanzas at the same time actually I just finished writing the second stanza a few minutes ago. I feel that they are related enough to be included in one poem.