Heard they're getting ready to close
Down the high road
As no one they know
Uses it anymore

In desperate need  
Of major repair
Because no one out there
Really much cares

A once solid road
Well traveled on
The shoulders now soft
The pavement worn down

And with the low road
So easy to take
Just don't read the signs
That point out the mistakes

Heard the high road
Is soon to be closed
With no one they know
Using it anymore

The underground,
a submersive experience

I drown in it
daily.

We used to be
didn't we?
then we went our separate ways
you into the night and I
into the distance of those lonely
days
watching interminable television plays
based on love and romance

let loose and yet
instead of playing the field
I became a recluse
preferring to be alone
seeking no company
needing no one to comfort me
just me and the TV
and yet we
used to be
I can't forget that.

Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.

do poems only flourish when they are rooted in the soil of emotions?
shall i water them with my tears?
do they sprout from the anger that weeds itself through my soul?
are they the seeds that i planted in my garden and only grow when the sky flashes and thunder sounds?
will you pluck them and use them as decoration for your dinner table?
do they bloom in the moonlight?
are they the trees that sway in the wind yet stand tall in the face of a hurricane?
are poems only full of emotion when we are?
or can i truly write whatever i want?

Sparkling eyes of blue
marshmallow soft skin
a smile to light the world.
Tiny hands clasping mine
innocence personified
I couldn't love him more.