Eye of a Tornado

This was written for dVerse where we were asked to write about order, of which I know nothing.

Image by Comfreak from Pixabay

Eye of a Tornado

She’s chaos, dis-order
undisciplined, a mess.
She’s the fall garden
burnished leaves tumbled, scattered,
deadhead flowers.
The aftermath of a windy trash day,
strewn boxes, gliding plastic.
Even her brain’s disordered.
not clinically but robustly.
Flitting, flying, angling for thoughts.
On sane days, she wishes
she were like accountants
processing, clean, thorough, detailed.
White starched shirt, no stains,
clean lenses, blindered viewing.
She longs, prays, cries for discipline
just to see, prove, what she can do.
But it’s like believing, hoping, wishing,
there’s a calm inside a tornado.


12 thoughts on “Eye of a Tornado

  1. what a wonderful whirlwind of words you created here – loved the chaos of this tornado though it sounds as though she only half-hopes to be calm and ordered. many thanks for joining in with the prompt

  2. Oh how I adore this description of a disordered mind (of which i have) and the tornado metaphors. Being from a tornado prone area I completely relate to the random destruction. I find words in the mess and fling them at a page, as suggested in another post. This is a very dynamic piece. Thanks

  3. I love the line that says, “She’s the fall garden burnished leaves tumbled, scattered, deadhead flowers.” The turmoil is so wonderfully illustrated. The picture is also very good. Thanks for this post.

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