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Dear Katrina

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Below is the poem entitled Dear Katrina which was written by poet Mike Butler. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Dear Katrina

The TV showed a tyrant tumbling towards our house.
I was weary and wanted to leave before it hit, but
My mom was too weak and too old to leave her bed.
She couldn’t leave so I sat, sat and prayed.
I boarded up a window standing on a chair—
Waiting.  It was hurrying our way in the shape of a hurricane.

My mom said, “Remember Hurricane
Betsy back in ’65, we survived that in this house!”
She was trying to comfort me in my chair.
I was trying to stay calm for my mom, but
I was worried, so worried and again I prayed,
Watching, waiting and wondering over her bed.

As I walked to the window; I looked at my bed
Of roses freshly planted and hoped the hurricane
Would spare their lives, ours too! Then, me and the roses prayed.
Suddenly and without warning the power left our house
And a window cracked and crashed close to my mom’s head, but
She was ok. She was calmly asleep. Then, I sat in my chair

With a flashlight and waited. My old chair
Was calm and sturdy like my mom’s bed.
Throughout the night I sat confident that we would hold, but
Finally the overwhelming weight of the heavy hurricane
Broke the levees and lunged an ocean into our house.
I cried “Mom we have to go!” She woke and then she prayed.

And as she prayed
The water rose and knocked over my chair.
I picked her up and carried her to the roof of our house,
And we waited and waited—she missed her bed.
At last a boat came, on the side read “HURRICANE
RELIEF”. I told my mom it was time to go, but

She didn’t want to go, she was sad. But,
I convinced her that we couldn’t stay. We got in the boat—everyone prayed.
Then we waited and waited in a big silver dome with other hurricane
Survivors, all were thirsty, none were cold. “Mom…Wake up!” She lay dead in a chair.
So, I got some rubbish and filth and made her a bed.
I covered her up—I missed our house.

When I returned I found my chair though it was not the same, but,
I sat anyway and then I prayed.  I put my mom’s ashes in a brand new rose bed
And begged another hurricane doesn’t take away—my mom and our house.

Copyright © Mike Butler

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  1. Date: 5/21/2010 4:42:00 AM
    Congratulations on your win in Jared's contest "The Sestina" Mike. Love, Carol

  1. Date: 5/18/2010 6:16:00 PM
    Congratulations on your place in this interesting contest. well done Mike ...cheers Margaret

  1. Date: 5/18/2010 9:35:00 AM
    Congratulations. llThis is a wonderful interpretation of the contest.

  1. Date: 5/18/2010 8:31:00 AM
    Congrats Mike on your willing poem in Jared's Sestina contest with this amazing write .. enjoy a wonderful win .. luv.. from the "Sweetheart"

  1. Date: 5/6/2010 10:59:00 PM
    EXCELLENT, my poetic friend.. I am sorry for your loss, remember that she is still with you in everything that you do in spirit... She has only left the physical... I am pleased you chose this thought for your Sestina, original and full of pain... You brought a tear to my eye my friend as I sit and remember my own ties to mother natures mighty fist.. Katrina..... Good work Mike, and good luck.....:JP}

  1. Date: 5/6/2010 5:40:00 PM
    A nice tribute to a mother

  1. Date: 5/6/2010 3:29:00 PM
    well done in the story, i have enjoyed sorry about your mother, have a nice day,..p..d

  1. Date: 5/6/2010 3:20:00 PM
    Very emotive and expressive of your feelings and I am sure the feelings of thousands of others..I am saddened of to hear of your loss of your mother in this disaster...Keep the creative pen flowing..Sara