Where's the Sense, Lord?
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person section of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
Showing posts with label Prayers from an Average Person. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayers from an Average Person. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Where's the Sense, Lord?
Where's the Sense, Lord?
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person section of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person section of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
Saturday, October 7, 2017
Where's the sense, Lord?
Where's the Sense, Lord?
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Where's the Sense, Lord?
Where's the Sense, Lord?
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1988
Where's the sense, Lord?
The news is on:
Tornadoes have devastated a town,
killing adults, old people, children, babies.
An avalanche in Colorado has buried a section of road,
leaving people wondering if their cars are to be their tombs.
And then, a child, 12, missing since Friday
when she got off the school bus.
It's Monday now.
The police suspect foul play.
Where's the sense, Lord?
This was a group of poem/prayers written while I was trying to finish up at St. Petersburg (Florida) College during the mid- to late- 1980s. Most of the poem/prayers were written in the main campus's cafeteria over cups of coffee.
There was several TVs around the divided cafeteria, frequently with the news on. This was written after seeing several depressing news stories.
This is from the Prayers from an Average Person of Poetry Unassigned, currently looking for a publishing home.
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