Yes, of course I heard the message,
blasting from the bullhorn–
Evacuate, evacuate!
I bought this house during Watergate;
here I’ve made my life;
here my babes were born–
so if If you think some blustering storm
will make me run away–
you don’t know me very well.
Let those winds blow my roof
into the swelling bay,
let the tides knock down my walls,
and swallow all I own–even if I’m all alone–
this is where I’ll stay!
Come high water, come hot hell,
this is where I’ll stay!
<p>This shows the poems in just one one workshop. To see all the poems on Neopoet, <a href="/workshop">go to the stream</a>. Or go to the <a href="/node/<?php print(arg(2)); ?>">workshop page itself</a>, where you can find out more about the syllabus.</p>