Lisle Ryder Poet Verse

I Felt Trumped

There was a possibility of snow.
I looked out on a chilly white scene,
reflecting that extremes of weather are 
matched by extremes of political fronts.
	The season hangs its head 
		under a burden.

Out for a walk with 'Duke', I ducked
under snow-laden branches,
but it was the beast of a snowplough
that threw it at me – down my neck.
	Is other traffic struggling 
		to get to where?

This morning the world feels very different.
We are searching to find where we are
as a big Trump of the white stuff 
is flung at us. On the way to the White House
	an occluded front is forecast.
		So what to put on?

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Freddie Robinson Jr. November 18, 2019 at 3:22 AM Very apropos poem, Lisle. Very timely and relevant. Btw ... love the amended title, it's eye-catching. The original seemed like an accountant's notation ... lol! Seriously tho', this is a very cerebral muse that lends to deep introspection. Ty for the food for thought. Aurora bright write on such a dreary day. May love light your path in life always. Romantic Warrior Lisle Ryder November 18, 2019 at 6:27 AM Thanks Freddie, and it is three years on with Trump still causing chaos. It is interesting how the choice of title influences how many people view a poem.

Robert Warlov November 2, 2019 at 11:43 PM I suspect many like yourself are stumped by this bad front: "Trump". No one goes out expecting to be assaulted by the snow! As to apparel, meeting the necessary function might require our most severe invention. Lisle Ryder November 3, 2019 at 4:57 AM Thanks Robert. God preserve us next year from a further dump of Trump.