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Typhoon

July 23, 2008

She’s here, an uninvited
guest, clouds clinging to
her coattails.

For her, trees pirouette,
newspapers take off,
calligraphied birds,
the harbour rains
startled fish and sewage,

scaffolding struggles to break
free of its restraints,
walkways sigh and sway,
empty even of beggars.

Lost possessions skeet,
potted plants from balconies,
shoes, a washing line flying
through the city like bunting.

Torn hoardings, road signs,
scuds of glass gyrating in this
carnival dance, the inanimate
brought to life with her breath.

When dark comes,
she blows out the stars,
gutters the moon, veers off
course to the mainland.

We wake to an island in tatters,
the thrum of unfettered things.

by Jo Hemmant

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  1. July 24, 2008 at 7:02 am

    Liked this poem very much. Read it through several times, just for the pleasure of doing so.

  2. July 25, 2008 at 10:45 am

    Rock it, Jo. You go, girl!

  3. July 29, 2008 at 9:28 pm

    jo.. the listing motion of this poem adds to the madness as “she” sweeps ” thru carrying her destruction… i love the personalization of the word “she” too,, it kept me guessing till the closing line,, which brought it all slamming into reality…

  4. June 28, 2009 at 6:04 am

    Delightful read, Jo — artistry through and through. You are ever drawing me fall in love with your genius for last lines.

  5. January 19, 2013 at 8:47 am

    Rebjat, a gde forum, chtoby vayakzst’sja. Tak kak est’ chto skazat’, vpolno ne gromko no dovol’no chetko jasno. A poluchaetsja, chto to kak-to i sajt dazhe ne ptvechaet svoemu nazvaniju.

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