poetry eludes, hides where I cannot go
leaves me bereft, mourning in stale clothes
black as night unable to find my way
my mind closed up, a crab in its shell,
the tide washes in and the Sun rises
but no Sea or Sun touches my rag worn soul.

My new girl can't resist
Scares me every chance she gets
From out the closet, underneath the bed
My poor heart can't take much more of this

Applies makeup in the shade of Goth
To leather and chains she gives a nod
Don't know what else I can do
Since I fell in love with a girl named Boo

Loves the night more than she does the day
Underneath a full moon if she had her way
A lone wolfs howl is music to her ears
Look her in the eye but never show your fear

Wishes everyday was Halloween
She loves to hear those goblins scream
If you all must know the truth
I fell real hard when I fell for Boo

She likes to sneak up on my love
Scaring me with a willful nudge
She tastes like Boysenberry wine
Be careful though because she bites

With hair blood red and clothes dark black
She'll take your soul and not give it back
It all is in her attitude
Do you need more proof why I love Boo

He was engrossed in his performance
in the enthralled silence of the audience
catching the subtlest notes from the instrument
as his supple fingers played with the strings
erupting into the finest blend of ragas
freeing the souls of all the stress
converging his heart into his music
eyes closed as in a transcendental state.

But I could not concentrate.

The face behind the beard and the unkempt hair
was familiar.

From a long distant day
I remember those fingers performed in a different way.

The afternoon I came back from school
and mom told me her monies were missing
and he was the only visitor to her room
waiting in the pretext of meeting me
but after a while leaving hurriedly.

He confessed and the money was recovered
but never again the breached trust.

The audience rose in ovation fingers clapping
my own frigid in remembrance
of another performance.

A simple man is what I am
I went to no university
Or college of theology
And no doubt that's why I'm confused

It occurs to me, when we see
Leaders and generals of all countries and creeds
Celebrate their victories with smiling pride
Shouldn't they be weeping with shame
For all the innocents who've died?

They all believe that their god is on their side
And quite often, the same god at that
All down the ages, our venerable sages
Have killed, tortured and oppressed each other
In the name of the wishes of god

Now I'm just an ignorant sinner
So can someone please explain
What kind of god do these people believe in
That needs the destruction of his own creations
And all in his holy name?

                                                          ­­  By Phil Roberts