My stomach is a stormy ocean
and I am an ocean liner,
furniture sliding left and right,
uncomfortably.
Captain stands firmly at the helm,
looking forward,
aiming for calm,
hoping the ship
does not betray his confidence.
poem- tempest August 13, 2016
Swirling tides roar
Air rumbles and crackles
Bitterness rises
A stomach bent on anarchy.
Shawn L. Bird 