A native premonition of change

Like old Tommy Finnegan
who couldn't remember what to think,
I was wondering what will happen
when this old chaotic world sinks --
                                            coming to its end?

Won't be anytime for drinking
away all our infinite sorrows,
for things will be continuously falling,
and the ground will be opening --
                                            ready to swallow.

Won't be much time for praying
when the sea water comes flooding.
The earthquake opening up to the waters
up north, to meet the Gulf about half way --
                                            creating an ocean
                                            where grew corn, grain, and hay.

The day seemed a long time coming
some figure it's all just another hoax.
Yet see there, the massive crack widening,
and the uptrusts reaching for the sky --
                                            hard to steady the boats.

I'll make my way to the Appalachian Mountains,
or the Black Hills, or the Rockies, they'll be islands!
Might make a home on the new beach...
any higher on the islands will be too cold --
                                            and hard to reach.

I finally awoke sitting in my reclining chair,
wondering what kind of a scene I've dreamed?
It didn't feel like a dream; more of a teaching to beware.
Is this a premonition about what's to come --
                                            should I believe what I've seen?

What does a body do having seen such a dream?
Whatever could be done after watching such a scene?
Makes you worrisome: Makes you scream!
What will I do: When will this be: Should I say what I've seen --
                                            Will my friends come with me;
                                            or will I go it on my own?

Guess we'll find out eventually,
even as crazy as it does seem.
To be so upset from night's memory,
all because of premonition or dream --
                                            All because of a sight I've seen.

Font size:
Collection  PDF     

Submitted on October 09, 2013

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:32 min read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 1,957
Words 295
Stanzas 8
Stanza Lengths 5, 5, 6, 5, 5, 5, 6, 5

Lucian Tower

I began writing Lyrics, short stories, and poetry some 43-years-ago. When I was in high school, during the 60s, I met the great Robert Frost. He spoke to me about my real elementary attempts at writing and poetry. He took some time with me, after assembly hall and told me to not stop writing. Now, that I have been around the world as a USMarine, and have lived through 2-years of the Vietnam War, I still am writing. Now at 63-years-old, I am enjoying being on Poetry.com with you all. I was born 12/21/1948, in Worcester, MA. There I began trying to write lyrics at 5-years-old, on my Grandmother's piano -- this has been a life-time ambition/Hobby for me. I live now in Gallatin, TN, and I am disabled/retired from the vietnam war.This is how I move around and, hopefully, meet others of like mind/spirit. I am mostly American Indian and 4th Generation Irish in the USA. My poetry are moments, which I've seen, and lived during my life. I believe allpoetry are photos, or glimpses into moments of life. Styles have changed over the years, and it is in reading/listening to others' poems that give poets ideas and imaginations to build their own style. This is who I am, as a man, who simply loves the written arts/preforming arts. Keep on writing!Lucian Tower. more…

All Lucian Tower poems | Lucian Tower Books

0 fans

Discuss the poem "A native premonition of change" with the community...



    Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)


    Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:


    "A native premonition of change" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/64574/a-native-premonition-of-change>.

    Become a member!

    Join our community of poets and poetry lovers to share your work and offer feedback and encouragement to writers all over the world!

    March 2024

    Poetry Contest

    Join our monthly contest for an opportunity to win cash prizes and attain global acclaim for your talent.

    Browse Poetry.com


    Are you a poetry master?

    The pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables in a poem is called _______.
    • A. meter
    • B. rhyme
    • C. verse
    • D. rhythm