Random posts by random folks
Here be the poems . . .
you can hear the pipes at night
as once stagnant water
drips slowly from an eroding spot
to a corrosive one,
it’s loud enough to wake the sleeping
but never loud enough
to drown out the noise,
oh, how I wish
the pipes would call
at waking hours
when they leave or sleep
their days away
Operater, I am begging
since I have so little change
that you would be a friend to me
and work out this exchange:
I have no quarter dollars here,
no dimes nor nickels neither,
I only have a poor man’s wealth
but the richest will to hear her.
Tracks in the snow
leading to something
–but what?–
though I don’t know
and you don’t know
I hope we find out together
in friendship’s warmth
on the cold trek ahead.
A moment of levity
in life’s dear brevity:
poets wasting precious time
to find evasive rhyme
and meter
and meaning
as the world spins on and on
beneath their soles.
Long walks on thin ice
and shattered glass . . .
for what penance
was worth it?
Forgiveness
is a sturdy bridge.
The kid made a song,
poured his heart into
each bar and lyric
just for the other kids
to speed it up
as a new song
altogether.
As they scurry on through
their short little lives
we stopped to cry
a moment,
only to race away
from our lament
to get back in
the fast lane.
No music could be heard.
You left with few words,
only a gesture,
for both of us to
sink in conjecture.
You left with few words . . .
what did you achieve?
You left just the once
but each day you leave.
You ask, “Who is this for?”
as if I had a clear mind
that didn’t require
the urge and need
to write.
“To you,” I grin,
but my pen
sees different
each day.
She stands in the corner
her eyes are on me
I think to approach her
to see what could be
but trying, then failing,
my legs disapprove
as my heart slowly breaks
and my feet burn blue.
Hang up your hat and rest,
it will be by the door
when you are ready
to go.
Close your eyes
this side of the chaos,
rest and wait a spell.
The world will still be there.
You will be too.
The Unnecessary Blog 