Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Thatched roof gazebo, ocean air
The plastic of the chair
Tanned, beige to a tad bit brown
The sunning shows wear, but no tear

The view of the sea
From the highway
Foaming, white lather cream
A dreamer’s dream, within

The canoe, rightly placed
The blue of it juxtaposed
To the green of sea and the trees
A journey to begin
Pockets Aug 28
Everyday is a highway
Every hour a missed exit
Life is just a truck stop
Till you make up your mind on the destination
K E Cummins Jul 1
Calm sleep day
Urban brick
Birdsong, windy leaves

Inexplicable bagpipes

Lift soul brave
Raw harsh demand
Rise, rise and stand
This is life and beauty

Silence
Wind
Leaves

Motorbike engine roar
Every day, a bagpiper stands outside our neighborhood Covid Testing Centre and plays for the people waiting in line. I reckoned this old poem was short, sweet, and perfect for Canada Day 2020.
Zack Ripley Jun 6
I'm going to take all of my scars
And build a highway to the stars.
I'll learn how to love myself
And stop living like an elf
Stuck on a shelf.
It will be the hardest journey
Of my life, no doubt.
But in the end, I'll find something
Worth writing about.
In the distance
On the highways
I hear the trucks
Silently unmask
Everyday challenges

Socially distant
Carrier of loads
For smooth
Functionality
Silent
Driving force
Early morning observations
Enigmatic Apr 14
Her trust in you is as good as an empty tank headed south
She won't use the rearview mirror headed far from you
What she leaves behind remains no concern to her burnt out heart
Eyes on the first exit out of here
The highway is her only vision, burying your bones
This is her farewell
looking at the road
as if it has already murdered me
with my thoughts displayed like medals
I fool others who believe my smile
thinking about death
and simply ending it all
unlocking the door
unbuckling the seatbelt
jumping and crashing
falling deeply into the black tar
trigger warning: death, suicide
LLillis Dec 2019
Rows of angry red
eyes stretch endlessly onward.
Morning “rush hour”.
It occurred to me one morning staring at a seemingly endless line of brake lights that everyone else in this increasingly frustrating line was just as tired and miserable as I am. Tthe age old adage of seeing red ironically applies to tail lights especially when lit up to indicate the constant braking of traffic.
Next page