In a world with
pain sorrow suffering
grief corruption mourning
angst yearning loving fighting,
where are the poets who bring us
joy through their delightful writings?

A long time ago the world began
With hey ** the wind and the rain

Born to run and we ran
The joy, the boys, and the pain

Bruce Springsteen he's the man
Stephen King up there in Maine

I really don't have much of a plan
Will I ever see her again?

That's all one. My poem's done.
She says she's moving to Spain.

                   La Mancha!

Lost my socks,
guessing while I was drunk.
In a car I placed them was,
looked again to see them gone.

Still new to me,
a long type I don't wear usually.
Black with white dots,
didn't cost a lot, but still hurts as much.

Kept my toes warm,
I kept them well, making sure no holes form.
I bought two pairs to compliment each other,
I guess now the other is alone.
They were like two lovers.

Though I have a spare,
my heart is still in two from losing that pair.

Goodbye my socks, I'll be sad about you.

You can keep your secrets.
You can keep the past in the past.
Just tell me what you need.
Because I think we have something
That can last.
All it takes is your smile
to make me smile too.
All I need to be happy
is to see you happy too

Sun
Summer

it is here

passive voice
and lazy days
in a hammock

as it is swinging


whit howland © 2021