As I walked through a bitter wintry night,
ghosts whispered through my ears a tale of fright.
I felt my throat growing slightly tighter,
as I hear them speak of a mysterious writer.

A man of tremendous talent once walked this town,
and he would always wear a coat of hazel brown.
He wrote stories of wonder that brought children glee,
and people would always ask for more with plea.

Though when discrimination unleashed its wrath,
prejudice stood against his path.
As men and women mocked his believes,
all of his happiness were mourned in grieves.

As his resentments were freed from chains,
rebellious anger in his story it gains.
Vengeance of evil in his tales did fly,
a mad man he became as he cursed to the sky.

Unjust it was to him; evil crippled his mind,
he massacred the town as if he was blind.
And when his sins did wrap around his head,
his knees buckled and he was dead.

My lips were quivering upon hearing this tale.
Frozen as I was, my face grew pale.
Petrified I was as my heart jumped to my throat,
because I was the man in that hazel brown coat.

I have my autumn feet ready to seek out adventure
In a season of brisk winds that chill fingertips,
Frosty-nosed nights spent huddled beside a crackling fire,
Days wrapped up inside a thick, warm blanket
Gently grasping a steaming mug of hot tea.
Where calendar weeks are filled with
The steady rapping of raindrops on windows,
apples grappled from trees to make grandmothers’ famous pie,
and friends gathering to wander down endless rows of corn.
My autumn feet are ready to explore,
They are ready to adventure.

*I became invisible one Summer , a ramshackle empty home was my
safe port , the walls my confidant , my July bastille in constant danger of being overrun
Hostility answered in midnight dreams , a flea the mongrel couldn't reach , unbathed in reprisal and pain killer forgetfulness
I dreamed of my death , I entered a dark place , burnt musical scores to light my way , sang out loud to show I was not afraid , I dreamt the same nightmare everyday
I ran out of money , ate cornbread for five days straight , running out of "Oxy" was sweaty , demonic pain , on the eighth day a I heard a voice on the answering machine asking if I was okay
Pawned a decent guitar that morning , went to work the following day
I was at the crossroads that year and by sheer luck I just happened to turn the right way

You were my perfect poem
Brief but of many lessons
Our life was the perfect paradox
For love I thought we could rhyme

You hated all I ever loved,I loved all you hated
You said dirt was clean and the sun was cold
You desired tears for years
And resisted all advances of happiness

All you hated I had to forsake
For our love was at stake
But like a toddler you had fun with my feelings
Leaving our blindest love in darkness reeling

Yet my greatest victory was losing you
My severest pain was my sweetest gain
You schooled me through experience
My all-time worst teacher

You were my perfect poem
Eternity would be short to describe the undescribable
For when my hand is strong to hold the pen
Then my heart is weak to pen the words

When the night is calm
There is tenderness
Within a dream I have
And the dream
Remains the same

Down through the years
Through pain and fear
And the spite of heedless fate
The tenderness abides
Right here by your side

And there will come a day
When the landscape will change
With the blending of hills
Which I bring with me
And your sweet valleys
Making the pathway smooth

                                        By Phil Roberts