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Ali Hassan May 29
Three roads once lay before my eyes,
Beneath the sweep of silent skies.
The first was wide—a golden lane,
Where countless walked to dodge all pain.

It rang with laughs, with joy and cheer,
A life designed to mask all fear.
With rules to follow, dreams pre-made,
Where comfort kept the truth delayed.

The second glowed, but few would tread,
Where thinkers dwelled and logic led.
They questioned deep, they reasoned well,
But stayed within a guarded shell.

They built their truths with thought and care,
Yet never leapt beyond the air.
For all they saw, they feared the cost
Of seeking more, or being lost.

The third was cloaked in breath of shade,
A road where light and meaning fade.
No stars above, no voice, no guide—
Just silence stretched on either side.

It seemed I stood with choice in hand,
But deep inside, I’d never stand.
The first road smiled with soft deceit—
A velvet lie beneath my feet.

It offered peace, a gentle chain,
With dreams that dulled the edge of pain.
But in that ease, my fire grew thin—
A quiet death beneath the skin.

The second shone with sharpened grace,
But held me bound in one still place.
A cage of mind, of bright control,
That fed the brain, but starved the soul.

They lit the dark, but feared to leap,
So clung to truths they chose to keep.
They stood so close to something true,
But feared what change would make them do.

The third—it bled, it bit, it burned,
And showed me truths I’d never learned.
Each breath was torn, each step left scar—
A trail that broke but led me far.

No cheers ahead, no lights behind,
Just hollow winds and thoughts unkind.
Yet in the silence, sharp and clear,
I felt a voice the brave don’t hear.

It warned, “This road will lead to none.
It breaks the soul, it leaves you done.”
But pain revealed what fear had masked—
And so I walked, no questions asked.

No end in sight, no promised land,
Just storms that tore through where I stand.
Yet through the wreckage, fierce and true,
The shattered path was pulling through.

So let me fade, without a sound—
No song, no stone, no hallowed ground.
Though I vanish, lost and gone,
I walked the path that led me on.
Steve Page Mar 30
Sometimes,
and sometimes, just as I try
to doze on a sofa,
when I have nothing demanding to do
and I have time when I can
while away some time alone -

Sometimes like that,
I find my mind wandering,
I find myself wondering

"What if?"

I examine the sliding doors
The life choices
The milestones
that mark past crossroads.

And I story-tell, I dream-walk
I wander down roads not travelled.

And from that sofa
I wonder if I might now just about see
the next significant junction
on my horizon.

And in that wonder moment,
I promise the Makers of my turnings
that, this time, I'll be more adventurous
I'll trust Them more.
I'll take the road that carries
a little more risk, a little less certainty.

I pledge to not roadmap my journey,
at least not quite as much
as I typically do.
And I will entrust the future
into the more capable hands of those
who have no need for What ifs.  

I can trust the Makers, for
they know what lies ahead.
They have been there
and they can each see way more
than I can
from my sofa.
This is one lonely road,
A gray place with no fond memories.

Yet still, a place I know very well,
The broken stones have stories to tell.

This is one dreary path,
A broken face with no kindness left.

Yet, this is where the good men are buried,
When they fade from light and die.
Rochester has many lonely roads, I've walked too many to count.
AE Mar 2
there it was,
the whole world
at your fingertips
and yet you chose
all the roads of broken glass
and abandoned winds
to plant this pain
in places that ache
for new trees
right here in this home
in this silenced soul
in these tired bones
somehow you chose
to walk with me instead
of running ahead

there it was,
all that I know
about love
Steve Page Jan 21
Which road did you take?
Emmaus or Damascus?
Don't matter.
Same Jesus.

What brought you here?
Breadcrumbs or beacon?
Don't matter.
Same Jesus.

What meal did you share?
Flat bread or feast?
Don't matter.
Same Jesus.

It's the one you meet.
Not how you meet him.
Todd Sommerville Nov 2024
The road, a cold and lonely place.
Where a man can feel his heart break and spirit soar in equal measure.
Those long desolate Highways heading west.
Heading  nowhere  into distant mountain ranges that seem always out of reach.
Where do they go, I momentarily wonder, then know, as the road now leads to valleys below.
The ebb and flow,
the high and the low.
That is the road.
Where a man can lose himself,
yet find his soul.
https://youtu.be/KD6dLVRs7DY?feature=shared
This is a link to my newly made you tube channel if anyone is interested
blank Sep 2024
i get lost on purpose
    drive into the mountains like
    maybe i’m waiting for a cliff

   like maybe route 44 will go off the grid
    unmap itself
from my neurons and from google both

i brake disgusted
    reminded of the guy who took the hairpin too fast
    and didn’t even make a dent in the ridge
reminded how it looms so large with every rev
    till all i see is rock
   , road
   , and impossibly the flightiest glimpse of

   vanishing point

so distant from the guy who escaped the sky

i pull over next to smoking trucks and their smoking drivers
silhouetted against a valley so vast it may as well be nothing
    a pipedream projected somewhere
    beyond
     some etching from the silurian period
    that i won’t understand (not even when i’m older)

i’m sorry i’m late

i get lost on purpose
    but i still repeat myself:
the second the county signs change color
    i’m shivering at the lookout
    i'm swinging around and glancing nervously at the sun
i'm slamming my brakes at the hairpin
    neither earth nor air nor new
   just home.

sorry i’m late
but i’m here.
    i parked at the end of the driveway
   like always.
--written 2/22/23--
Erwinism Sep 2024
no matter how you rove,
you can't trust roads
to lead you home in the
winter.

on occasions, she brews
a tempest laced with
coffee to wreak havoc
in the morning,
and at night,
in between restlessness
and nightmares,
her back holds up a sign
that reads "no yesterdays
allowed"

gone was our youth,
tarnished like trinkets
coated with gold
peddled and sold
like empty promises

sometimes,
white flags are waved,
and we find us wrapped
inside arms that used
to be used to be our home
but the years took
its toll and had us evicted
out of boredom

deep in her eyes,
I see that she is there
at the moment as a misdirection,
fleeting like a daydream fading
into the background
but in the corner
of her disquieting eyes
there is a pulsating
dark light yearning
for emancipation.
There is something
behind their walls
that I dare not behold,
lest, my heart turns into stone,
a monument of brokenness
deeply rooted where it stands
waiting for time to weather
it into dust for the wind to
scatter

it's utterly tiring
to spit words
that leave wounds
for us to dress with
never-again bandages
for in time,
in the most inopportune
circumstances our deathless
animosity just
seeps through

yet,

as voracious as we are
to be alone, we atone
for still we loved

we can't always
trust the roads to lead
us home in winter,
but if take the good
with the bad
maybe one day
we can look back
at our madness
bold enough to say
though our hearts betrayed
still we loved.
Francie Lynch Jul 2024
So many roads lead back home,
But not the one where I was born.
That first wet road was slippery,
With curves and hills and holes,
But every mile I travelled on,
Without knowing, I headed home.

Those many highways,
Like a wheel,
Were radiating spokes,
But like the wheel,
They're circular,
So always lead back home.
Mark Wanless Jul 2023
walking the dog down familiar
   blurry roads

what do i see but i want
   there to be

created a spaceship that flew
   me to mars

followed good soldier into
   evil war

stopped all the killing
   hatred no more
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