Wild Winds

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Wild Winds

Did I rouse the tiger?

Now I am running away…

I can no longer hear the voice

Of the wild winds.

For what fills the air

Is the roar of the tiger’s.

Running away…

For death awaits

In the crevices of its fangs.

Now I am a victim

Of a circumstance I crafted.

Running away…

Fleeing in fear,

Elbows for my own biting.

I blame not the tiger

But all fault I take

For ‘tis my venture

In its coniferous habitation

That led to its full awakening.

I am but regretting

What a fool’s part I played.

To be wise again,

I learned.

Never a mêlée with the tiger,

Even play in its quarter.

I will miss the wild winds’ call

For a time or so.

But with the roar’s fading,

The winds, I will be lulled.

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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

Erno’s Poems (5)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Insomnia Blurb 0
Nightmares 0
For Toil 0
Wild Winds 0
Baclaran's Call 0