August Twenty Nine

 

In yesterday’s poem I exaggerated
The lineal measure of rain that descended
As hurricane Harvey with rain inundated
The city of Houston with thousands upended

Twenty odd inches, not feet was the measure
A total of fifty by this time tomorrow
Thousands of people lost all that they treasure
And seven fatalities: grief and much sorrow

Our President came to assess all the damage
He came not to Houston but to Corpus Christi
Where Harvey appeared to have been on a rampage
Just seeing the photos has made my eyes misty

Where Trump chose his photo-op, Trump-style lecture
He said that the government will supply aid
The help he can muster is purely conjecture
Since so few appointments of staff have been made

He neither got rained on nor waded the waters
He spoke not to victims nor to the bereaved
His handling this crisis, he said it would alter
And become the model of what to achieve

Again, Trump embodied his utter irrelevance
People are hurting, they’ve lost everything
Their future uncertain, their present like in a trance
A true sense of hope, Trump’s unable to bring

8/29/17

 

Author: Sabba Rabba

Unapologetic Octogenarian Democrat Respond to Poelitic@Poelitics.net

One thought on “August Twenty Nine”

  1. Texas is great, he said
    They can handle it.
    Tell that first to those who lost everything.
    Fix it, great fixer of all.

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