Disturbed
I bolt awake, early a.m., my wife, too —
something unseeable in the night
has beaten us with a whisk,
left us in a froth,
left us like a lawn over which
men in green shirts rolled spiked wheels,
sprinkled poison to kill the weeds,
left a sign, and quietly drove away.
13 thoughts on "Disturbed"
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The title is perfect. Eerie feeling here. You can feel the disturbance for sure.
“Beaten us with a whisk, left us in a froth” Oh, how I know that feeling!
Yeah !! That line.
And the title. These two friends have spoken my mind.
Great poem.
when life give you froth-
make soo-flay!
Great images!
All this but…you guys okay?? 😳😮💨
A stoic would say we’re always okay. Heraclitus would say step into another river.
This poem packs a punch!
Such metaphors – I’ve lived this poem for sure.
What a fresh new way to describe this!
Felt that jolt!
Oof– (I echo all of the above)
Thanks everyone for your kind comments