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I feel like I am driving against the rain
while the downpour smashes 
against my windshield like mad.

If only I could take that right turn
onto a road of rain-less sky, 
that ascends to a safe hill.

I miscalculated. Instead,
the heartaches are rising like floodwaters,
there is no point to clear the windshield.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Hi Joel,  This piece left me feeling like I want to help.  Helpless, hopeless were the messages I got.  In the first stanza you use two different tenses.  I am driving / while downpour smashes

This left me with a sadness.


~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Thanks for the read and catch, Tink. That is really the atmosphere (no pun intended) of the poem. 

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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  • 1 month later...
David W. Parsley

Joel, add me to the list of those who think this extended metaphor just rocks! 

Like Tony, I look askance at the closing tercet, finding that I like the final line but find the previous two less interesting than the rest of the poem.  Could that line be pulled up into the main body and the other two eliminated?  

Nice poem!

 - Dave

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  • 1 month later...


I might be way off course. I do realize we all see a different scenario to similar problems. We express ourselves as best we can.

 For the hypothetical person involved here...I felt great sympathy. It seemed to me this person was about to give up, feeling there was no point of return. After reading your post I wonder if I understood this person's problem as well as you have portrayed it. I took liberties to try to express these same feelings, without too many changes. I hope I did it justice. 

Mentally... I felt I was driving blindly
in a rain smashing furiously  
against my overwhelmed windshield

I needed desperately to take a different turn
onto a new route of rain less sky
to ascend to a safer plateau

I miscalculated; Instead...
My heartaches... like floodwaters... were overpowering
there was no point to clear the windshield. 

Many years ago I worked 18 months with Schizophrenic, and other mentally disabled students who wanted to start their own writers club. Their stories were beautiful, overwhelming, loving, and some were so far out in left field it was hard to imagine that anyone could create stories and poems that they wrote. 







Edited by bob
Mispelling of words
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