Turmoil
Turmoil
Transplanted from native soil.
No warning.
No dry run.
Thrown into turmoil.
Few skills.
No plumage.
Lost sense of direction.
Confused.
Still waving arms.
Copyright © Miroslaw Eric Sulkowski | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment