Crunch Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
We're all vulnerable at crunch time. Partly inspired by the lightning strike which ripped through my house last week.

Submitted: September 01, 2012

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Submitted: September 01, 2012



Run-off on the tarmac;

a never-ending storm

does nothing for my mood

as I swerve the car,

dodging the pavement like

the heart skips a beat.

A wheel spins, round and round

and round into

the ditch

where I die by the wheel,


gasping for breath

as the airbag smothers me.


Appliances and fairy cake;

watching over the spotless gate.

Kids at school with better knowledge

than you were ever taught.

Else you’d know better

than to dip your hand

and zap!

Your brain fried before it


against the counter.


As we breathe, talk and scream

our body takes us hostage.

One wrong strand and there we go;

forever strapped to bed.

Survivors, they kneel and pray

to ancient, random idols,

but no use.

So far gone are we now.


A man in his box,

unaware that any moment

the floor could open up,

and walls crash down

upon his skull.

Tossed as a ragdoll

into the fire;

terrified and alone,

helpless but to scream

his final words to the


of rubble.

© Copyright 2018 Mathew Nicolson. All rights reserved.