There is a line being drawn in the sand
try to understand
Many equate logic for fear
I shed a single tear to numb the pain

We each are given a voice with a choice
many insist on lust instead of love
Other's just push things under the rug
eyes, faces & traces

Burning the midnight oil
when will this harvest begin to boil
Shadows break apart upon the morning dew
we have bitten off far more then we could chew

solace, humility & sullen brevity
Marching orders have been given
Satan's laughing spreads his wings
Trump is in office a new political swing

As the eagle fly's throughout the sky
to send a tender wish or a soft reply
Let us look above to the heavenly love
shelter lies dormant onto it's beckoning plow

The time for change is now
a call is going out onto the nation
Hearts to unfold their dream episode
become a beacon of light to a hurting world in need

Poets are born
around the world
here and there
but few know
where

The world's best poets
went un-recognised
who am I/(we)
just a sparkling
by the way side grass
over which many
humans and animals
trample and pass

Who am I/we to reckon with
but a lone force
none knows

till we pass

springs frozen in like the dogshit fields
bikes with forks jutting up
and bent tires
shopping carts in creeks bridge view
iced up

By candle’s light that broad, fresh smile
put rose in cheeks and light in eyes.
The postman’s missive so worthwhile,
the day could hold no greater prize.

She’s half way through the second line,
at once the sound of laughter rings,
for ink the colour of dark wine
such satisfaction brings.

Oh when a sister’s far away
those conjoined hearts still beat,
while storge itself holds sway,
each written word’s a treat.

Out of the mere solace there springs forth a silence
cold hearts plunge in it's beautiful interludes
A beacon of light for a hurting world in need
sorted Lavender grace upon the Peyton Place

We filled slowly into the auditorium
faces fixed on what was being said
For I shed a tear to numb the pain
Not having you in my arms was driving me insane

faces, hands & feet
Shadows beckoning call asunder
A harp was being played
we could see his majestic throne

syntax futility
lunchpail etched journey
your letters
poetry..not even some change
i could lift for a coffee
How you could enter a room
and take it
I envied
Latching the lid closed
why keep such empty baggage
from some old cancelled television
show....
somewhere in there was a letter
I'd written during a weak moment
My handwriting I didnt recognize
humoring the sad soul till
with shock I saw my signature
which cannot be duplicated