One would think
A conversation
A simple thing
A little piece of blather here and there
Don't listen don't ask
Questions are too much
To consider
Dig the deep hole
For the source of
Your curiosity
Why bother?
Just talk after another
Made a pause
And then go back to
The solitary confinement
Of your isolation

Shall I talk of Mistress Moon
Or her sisters the stars
Etching their endless orbits
On the black of space and night

Or should I talk of Brother Sun
Who brings the daytime on his own
Making the unseen seen again
And opening flowers to smiles

Without the dark of night
Separated from the bright of day
Our world would just exist
In a constant shade of grey

                                            By Phil Roberts

The silver sliver of a crescent moon
Cringes for its solitary state
Staring longingly into the city

The sky is black cardboard
With white shining holes
Like an old school light brite

Large white moths circle the lamps
Like little suicide bombers
While skeeters stalk and bite me

The night stills to the speed of silence
Even the shadows stand motionless
In fear of disrupting this peaceful repose

The long thin branches
Wave up and down
Saying good by
To that last good night
Light blue sky
Leave the leaves in the tree
Fluttering like spirit fingers

The night passes  
Like the old year
Bringing in
Singing friends
And baby rays of
Sunlight
Going from cool blues
And black skies
To lighter and warmer
Morning colors

You are just as lovely
as a sunset,

Beautiful hues of pink,
seep from your pores.
Astonishing shades of orange,
flow from your hands.
Purple and blues
slide from your eyes.

But eventually the sun sets
and I will be left with black wishing for all those hues to come back.

k.w

I let these word run from my heart
Paraded by the emotions and tenderness
Thousand and thousands of hurts and pain
Million and millions of love and laughter

I trusted these words to guide my way
Gave them my blood and everthing
Their firmness stood for me when I crawled
Danced with them as they seduced my tongue

I hide in the rhythm and sequence of music
As they permeated my soul, the honesty shield
My voice faded in the unending river of essence
Overtune from a hidden spirit of the yesterday

I believed and these words healed my depths
Sunk in the icebox of caged coldness and loneliness
Memories evading craziness, condensed character
Barricades of conditions and illusionary dissolutions

The keyboard had eyes for me as I winked at it
On its reflection I saw my face, my body, my all
The rotated changes, the persistent difference
A simple kiss, a warm embrace, an extended thanks

Situated in self caused misery
Her choices translucent
Influenced by a life of negativety
She filled her tub with murky water
Warm, a place filled to the tip with disgrace
A bed is shelter overhead,
comfort is never enough
In this vague interpretation of what is good,
she has stiffened posture
A symptom of exposure