POETRY: Barbara Ann Meier – TORNADO


When white sunlight

hits hail, scatters

the narrow beams

of light,

they plank the sky

in hues of eerie yellow.




off each other-

a game of pinball,

igniting lights

with each slam.


In that engulfing gloom,

the bruised sky,

full of broken veins

of light,


into violently spinning air.


The fat finger of death

curls its way to dirt-

wedging itself downward.



by power flashes,

I strain to glimpse

the finger of God.


In that frozen


thoughts on internet


Doppler Radar

pinging velocity

across the plains,

I see where the blue turns to black,

and roars to silence.


The neutrality of Space,


a vacuum

that is you.


I am gravity,

spiraling earthward-

an ice ball,

burning up

in atmospheric divergence.


Face planted to fears,

grounded in a crater

of my own making.


In your silence I stand…

watching the approaching supercell.

It surges forward in darkness,

wrapped in rain,


from sight.


I await the ending-

the surrender,

debris swirling

to the West,

my pieces-



landing in someone’s front yard…


Published by: Basicallybarb

Barbara A Meier is a poet, teacher, and mother, trying to write her way out of Kansas, anxiety and depression. Instead of indulging in feeling like garbage, trash, or rubbish, she chooses to examine the debris of her life by writing poems about it. After all as a forgiven, child of God, simultaneously saint and sinner, she is loved and cherished by her God.

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