Raging Storm Poem by Wayne Jackson

I shall not gently stop this
tapping on tin roof like words
and wishes that should have been said
in lofty halls
wrapped in glee of echo
A thunder in the distance
then lightning and more thunder
making limbs click in fearful talk
but I am not afraid


crouch behind shuttered doors
clinched eyes against the violence
that nature pridefully bares.
They who are afraid of storms and
lightning night
draw no pleasure from exaltation.

a dynamic theater
this natured husky showing,
shouting, growling,
angered storm
pushing scenery like feathered toys
daring us all to join in battle
of blood pulseing passion
lusty in freedom

but they
wrapped in fear
shun this shouting night which
collected like
a rolled and layered ball
all the anger held in hand
and all the tears shed, unshed
and all the silent words
and all the frustrations of stonefaced people
so that the storm cries with us for us


Rediron poem by Wayne Jackson

This job had no such drive. To this job there was a four lane highway, and there were kids waiting for the bus. Norm laughed while I sang. “If you see me gettin’ small, don’t worry. I’ve got the right to disappear.” Darrell yelled “Up, Chester, Up!” and the first piece of rediron came up to us, and it was nine oclock.