It seems yesterday
she lay four eggs by me
but didn't come to stay
she was soon a memory.

Her plume yellow green
eyes dark as sea
a short time she had been
then gone hastily.

She was not by my side
nor in the nesting ***
my heart was pierced wide
she was all I got.

Seeing me glum and hurt
they brought a bluish plume
I shunned her at the start
my heart was still in gloom.

Before long I fell for her
she preened me soft and sweet
helped me heal the scar
get back lost heartbeat.

Back to happy mood
I worked up one new nest
loved her best I could
putting the past to rest.

Rolled by fast the weeks
good times leave in haste
past few eggs and chicks
death laid her to rest.

Like this they came and went
seasons of joy and grief
the ones my love I lent
stayed but for too brief.

Now stalks me the claw of age
my plume are shedding fast
all I have is a cage
to ruminate loves of past.

It was the holiday feeling where a Poet needed to write
From Poet to Poet, it was holiday greetings in being polite
A Poet writing sitting in a chair by the fireplace
As the Poet was at home, the snow started coming down
The feeling of Christmas was heard being the sound
While the Poet was at home, he didn’t worry because he was warm by the fireplace
Suddenly there were echoes of ranging bells
It was familiar being a Christmas Carol, and the Poet could tell
But what really surprised the Poet were his own words giving him holiday cheer being total inspiration
The Poet wrote many times, but being extra careful in not saying the wrong words
Even a little mouse sat and observed every word in the write on the Poet’s page
Both the Poet and the Mouse were amazed
But the snow outside got even heavier
In fact, it had become a snowstorm
So the Poet thought, “How would Santa travel through the storm?”
The Poet felt it was time to go to bed
The Lantern was turned off
Later the Poet felt into a deep sleep
Suddenly, Santa arrived and came down the chimney being his normal stride
But Santa’s Reindeer certainly had to hide
Santa left the Poet a special book, “Inspiring Poets in the Know”
Later, Santa took off and dashed away in the night
Well the Poet woke up Christmas morning and was surprised in seeing the book
Page after page, the Poet took a look
If you dream and believe enough comes with possibilities
Well the Poet appreciated the book
This was a Poet’s Holiday
Just like Rudolph, the Poet went down in history
Yet to others being false hopes, and to others no mystery
A Poet who writes today becomes words yonder ever after.

what if anything were a song
what if the song I sang
were the end and be all
what if everything
was meaningful
what if everything
was calm
what if everyone
had their heart
in the right place
what if everyone
was good
like you and me
what if all the
world was in peace
what if tomorrow
was beautiful
what if poverty
was a thing of the past
what if demographics
were less regional
what if economics
had the answer
what if demigods
did not rule
what if
was the answer
I apologize
what if is a
question

How the nights went on
Barely marked by the dawn
Madness and chemically driven
Hardly bothering to think
Just pass me a drink
Parties and music a given

Laughing too loud
In the heat of the crowd
And reaching far too far
Jokes and laughter
Now and hereafter
Following a falling star

                                     By Phil Roberts

A bag of potatoes and a baseball bat.
Is merely a sack of starchy vegetables and a sculpted metal stick.
But on this blustering evening a bag of potatoes and a baseball bat meant an infinity more than that.
In this fleeting moment, I felt solidarity with the fact that life doesn't make sense.
I looked at you in your adjacent flesh ridden essence and smiled at this opportunity to connect.
The bat clashing with the pock eyed potato skin.
Our existences colliding with ebb and flow of a maniac pulsation.
This is not merely a hackneyed show of baseball bat on a bag of potatoes.
This is a boy and a girl realizing that this ever sacred moment holds more gravity than merely a bag of potatoes and a baseball bat.
It's just that we can't conjure what makes it so rich and ever splendid... so thus it must be
rich and ever splendid as the potato is launched into flight igniting the curiously enraptured mind of boy and girl witnessing baseball bat on potato

A cool December morning!
Today I rose much earlier than usual
I watch the night stealing away
Like an accused convict under cover

Sunlight peeks through the leaves.
In the haze of overhanging mist,
Only the blurred silhouette of trees in sight
The crows have begun their raucous call

The leaves of grass are misted with dew
A cool zephyr blows from the south
Clouds float like shredded cotton
Even Sirius, the brightest star has paled

Life is slowly beginning to unfold
And men like shadows have begun to move
The sun has now climbed to the Eastern hills
In scintillating glory like a mighty king

Shattering the mist with his lance like beams
He exults like a victorious warrior
His crystal rays rouse the sleeping birds
And they begin their chorus in wondrous rhyme

I enjoy the sweetness of this lovely morn
In serene silence, I stand and watch
The light that slowly fills the Earth,
Dispelling all trace of overhanging darkness!