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 Jan 2016 Bhavika G
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 Jan 2016 Bhavika G
Pearson Bolt
the rain fell so i kept my head down
chance alone piqued my interest and
through water-logged glasses i saw
him sitting on the front steps of an
old Lutheran church built from stone
in 1886 if the proud sign on the front
lawn was to be believed

the oak doors were chained shut

it's been four years since i asked myself
what would Jesus do
instead i wondered
what she'd do in my shoes
so i offered him my last slice
of Karma Kollision and he said
god bless you and i replied
stay warm
this world is cold

placebos like religion
might work miracles for Atlanta's
rich white mannequins
but sugar pills can't fill
a broken man's empty stomach
 Dec 2015 Bhavika G
ryn
Stilettos
 Dec 2015 Bhavika G
ryn
.
• p-                                                                
eople do                                                              
not see past                                                               
her   makeover•                                                               
•only  traded snea-                                                               
kers for heels beyond                                                             
her years• starkness of                                                         
change, her  before and                                                   
•••after•only constants                                                 
•••are her darkness and                                             
•••••fears•happily ever                                          
•••      after is a dream so                                     
•••         far•when sickness                                  
•••          consumed her caregi-                           
   •••           vers old•hides these away                    
  •••              as she approaches the stationary      
        •••                  car •  only her stilettos know... of her
         •••                     ••••••••••••••••••••••••••
      •••                       ••••••••••••••••••••••••


*story untold•
Concrete Poem 27 of 30

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 Dec 2015 Bhavika G
ryn
Goodnight
 Dec 2015 Bhavika G
ryn
.
•i've depleted my font,
my creative well•for each
day passed, with a story to tell
•staining white and barren land-
scapes•by sculpting my words into
myriad shapes•from factory fumes to
a wedding ring•an ominous tombstone
to a flash of lightning•an hourglass to track
elapsing time•the untold story behind a loved

                   nursery rhyme•            |  
                   with this i conc-             |  
                lude my 30 day run          o  
•it's been quite a stretch but
all in good fun•rest assured that
more will come when the time is
right•for now i'll turn off my
bedside lamp and bid
you all a goodnight•

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Concrete Poem 30 of 30

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