Raging tornadoes
coursing the land
They enter our psyches
low pressure at hand
To flatten our tinder
and rip out its studs
Our entry and exit
left deep in the mud
They hail from the flatlands
of thoughts we disperse
And leave in a cyclone
of verses they curse
Attempting to stop them
we close our eyes tight
But ears bid them access
— to welcome their blight
(The New Room: July, 2026)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: July 9th, 2026 10:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
A great metaphorical write. Well written Kurt
Thanks again my friend.
You are most welcome Kurt
Kurt, what a powerful metaphor. From flattening the house to leaving everything mired in mud, the tornado becomes an unforgettable picture of destructive thoughts we struggle to keep at bay. That final image of our ears granting them entry is especially haunting. Really enjoyed this, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
And that makes the writing worthwhile. Thanks TR.
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