The overnight fall
Is framed through my bedroom window
This morning
I will wrap myself
In the blanket
Before tires, squirrels and bootprints
Mar my pristine scene.

These are images that once were
The tan lines stretching across your shoulders;
Like starlight from some supernova;
Your photos in my albums;
Our shadows beneath bright suns;
Those ghosts have come and gone.

Then love became a memory;
And memory is the ghost
That frightens me the most.

Many of the world's greatest Leaders throughout our tumultuous history have;
Many of  the insightful Revolutionaries in stink hole and glory hole countries have;
Many of the oppressed, disenfranchised and cheated also have.
Look to Lenin, Mandela, Gandi, Nehru, Havel, Bhutto, Ceausescu, Charles I, Papadopoulos, Lady Jane Grey, Louis XVI, Marcos, Milosevic, a pile of Mohameds, Mussolini, Nicholas II, Pinochet, Saddam, Marie Antoinette, Pope Clement V, Selassie, Baghdadi, Duvalier, and, let's not forget the author of Mien Kampf, Adolph the Tenderizer.
And what do they all have in common?
Some, before they became boldly notorious, and others, after they became criminally notorious.
Some, looked out their window and saw platforms being erected.
Others witnessed gallows, guillotines. posts and walls.
They all got some time in:
PRISON. GAOL. JAIL. COOLER. LOCKUP.  DUNGEON. KEEP. PEN. BASTILLE. CLINK. STATESVILLE. SLAMMER. STOCKADE. THE BIG HOUSE.
You get the idea.
His time will come.

I am part of your smile today.
I might be in the curl of your lip,
In the corner glint of your eyes;
Or the concave of a dimple.

I will trip across your tongue today
When you speak of plans;
I will be today's man,
Clear the wreckage from the storm,
The tempest that began your day,
Reminding you we too were young.

When on your morning walk,
You might feel my hand slip in
And be with you awhile,
In your thoughts and smiles.

When I get big, as big as Granda,
I can do whatever I wanta.
I won't have to go to bed,
Even though I'm nodding.
I'll stay up late, yawn and stretch,
Let my eyes dry, rub and scratch,
Staring at the late night screen,
And think of jobs in need doing,
Like raking, shoveling, weeding, mowing.
Thanksgiving isn't far away, then
Christmas comes and family stays.
Granda stays up late and thinks
Of doing something before he sinks.
He doesn't have to clean the harvest,
Stain a table for a daughter, or
Drive to London for a visit.
He doesn't have to go to school,
And follow everybody's rules.
For all he's worth, and we're not sure,
He's staying here for many more.

Unknown،
But suddenly known،

You roar in each street

Sometimes
He stealthily gets into the house

Sometimes
He breaks into it

He is a thief or dacoit؟
----------------------------------

O rat،
You tell me yourself

There is a man within me
He dislikes thorns
But likes flowers

.
I’m just a lonely traveler
   on this earth
Sometimes it feels as if I'm
waiting for the sky to fall
with each passing breathe
       of wind

   Standing alone,
   a windswept tree
   leans downwind;
conspicuously wrought,
   naked and bowed
   by the grinding
      silent forces
  at nature's whim

Rootless tumbleweeds
roll by randomly:
    broken off,
spinning clockwise,
never looking back,
timeworn and tired
of resisting the prevailing
    high desert wind
and its unheld temper

Rattling the tinder
   dry sagebrush
like songless wind-chimes;
    voiceless fugitives
wreathing a bellowing silence


    Jesse Stillwater