Poetic Verses
The Young Cyclone
I walked into the room
where my child play.
I heard a ripping sound
and my mind said, "No way!"
I just knew in my heart
that something was wrong.
Then I saw the mess
and told myself to be strong.
The pages of a book
were all over the floor.
now the story was empty,
not readable anymore.
I will admit to my shame
and feelings of guilt.
I didn't protect the book
"The house that Jack built."
I dug through the mess
and found the maiden forlorn.
but the cow was missing
with his crumpled horn.
The rat hid in the malt
and the cat lost its purr.
The dog was separated
and his yelp caused a stir.
The tattered and torn man
was beyond tape repair.
He couldn't kiss the maiden
when his page wasn't there.
The shaven and shorn priest
was crinkled and worn.
The rooster made no sound
because his page was torn.
The wind tossed the corn
that the farmer had sown.
The house that Jack built
caught in a young cyclone.
I finished my search
but I couldn't find Jack.
I sighed, "How can I
put those pages back?"
With a tear in my eye
and an ache in my head.
I put the pages in the trash
and my child to bed.
where my child play.
I heard a ripping sound
and my mind said, "No way!"
I just knew in my heart
that something was wrong.
Then I saw the mess
and told myself to be strong.
The pages of a book
were all over the floor.
now the story was empty,
not readable anymore.
I will admit to my shame
and feelings of guilt.
I didn't protect the book
"The house that Jack built."
I dug through the mess
and found the maiden forlorn.
but the cow was missing
with his crumpled horn.
The rat hid in the malt
and the cat lost its purr.
The dog was separated
and his yelp caused a stir.
The tattered and torn man
was beyond tape repair.
He couldn't kiss the maiden
when his page wasn't there.
The shaven and shorn priest
was crinkled and worn.
The rooster made no sound
because his page was torn.
The wind tossed the corn
that the farmer had sown.
The house that Jack built
caught in a young cyclone.
I finished my search
but I couldn't find Jack.
I sighed, "How can I
put those pages back?"
With a tear in my eye
and an ache in my head.
I put the pages in the trash
and my child to bed.
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The Young Cyclone
The Young Cyclone
