We're talking
put up a hand
to stop a hurricane
futile here,
folks.
Two days past trying
while listening
to Hermine's tails
lashing at the windows,
I reach deep
into a well of emptiness
for a lost bucket
of words
filled with dusted
dried feelings,
the rope frayed
to snapping.
A thirst to heal
will lead me to drill
elsewhere,
thirsting for the tears
commingling with rain,
the tears that burst
from a stone-crag heart
in artesian splendor.

Calmly
Serenely
The sun slowly subsides
From the still-starless sky
And the moon is still a ghost
A time of mystery and myth
Half-light illusions
Unusual shadows
And strange delusions
When memories and dreams
Wander from one to the other
Blend beyond relevance
And I once remembered
A memory I never had

                                       By Phil Roberts