I said my goodbyes to cut a path
down the black snake like winding
park

A sound of screeching invades my
ear holes
the further I walk . I froze so did
my thumping heart. My
eyes flicked alert.

Scanning the midnight
masked curtain i fixated on the
eerie distraction.

It was an old mischievous squeaking
swing
leisurely swaying back and forth then
halting.

Bile starts running up my throat my
body starts to shake.
My stomach wants to
chuck my left over McDonald's up.

Motives move like lightning
down a broken path.
Or lift us as an angel
over the aftermath.
They change just like the seasons
first here and then they're gone.
We can't retrace their meaning,
they sing mercurial songs.
Their heart it dwells with heaven,
but sing an awkward tune.
Relying on forgivness
to finally reign them in.
As children we once understood,
what it was, that we should do.
Living then with innocent hearts
a gift that saw us through!

Neopoet Contest: What my best friend gave me

Love from the "get go" on day one!
Do not remember I only heard tales
of the happy hours spent awake with you,
you smiled at me, fair winds set my sails.

You picked me up when I stumbled and fell
dusting me off, you wiped away my tears
assuring me I had done no wrong.
You were always there to chase away my fears.

There came a sleepless night
that offered little consoling light
from a sad crescent moon.

Amid the heavy silence
after the gouging violence
of the red afternoon,

they dug one vast, shallow grave
for those they tried, but could not save
and laid them there to rest.

Then gathered what remained,
though it was tattered and cruelly stained,
battered and oppressed.

Into this sleepless, cold night,
they began their uncharted long flight
away from all they had known.

If she could, she’d help butterflies
arrange the powder on their wings
just so, and they would thank her

with brightly colored performances in the air.
She envies the exhilaration the young ones must feel
the first time they alight after their first flight.

She wears a colorful dress trimmed with lace.
The butterflies accept this effort to be like them.
And they’re okay with her inability to fly with them
because they know she does this in her own way.

It takes so long to let her live,

From way down deep, of herself, she shall give.

Innocent, unaware, helped with most care.

My love or my hell, to be done so well.

For weeks I sat and thought of her.

The words I write for her do say,

My love through night and through the day,

You surely live a lonely way.

Doubt and re-doubt.

Each line a part sought,

Each word carefully brought.

Thought and re-thought,

Taken to a whole,

The winters prison has opened
its cage

to let out of the gate a new
longer
Golden day. The world changed
to
Colours. Burgundy cherrys, sun
yellows,
panther blush pinks, and deep
purples.
Psychedelic, rows of specks
Splashed
soldiers and a

Fusion explosion of colours.
Emerald summer
green
Carpets of buzz cut grass and
cloud
birds

early-morning messages.
The musician sirens
Of musical hedgerows and
evergreen trees

When you're down and out
with nothing left to lose.
You’ve got no home,
no vocation to pursue.
I’m sure that you have
got the blues.
When you have no friends,
no one is going to take
your side.
The police show up
and want to take you for a ride.
You can’t run and there's
no place to hide
and you just want
to break down and cry.
You still have something
deep down inside.
Just ask Dr. Frankl ,
you can still choose.
how you see the world.

Underneath an old floor lamp
I sit as wee hours approach.
Outside the world is cold and damp.
Ghosts of bygone days encroach
while old songs play on the radio.

Ghosts of friends from the dim past,
some drifted to the other side,
I hope they all found peace at last
where their shadows all abide
and only soft winds ever blow.

I close my eyes yet I still see
things and people now long gone;
flickering there endlessly
in the past's eternal yawn.
With passing years they grow and grow.

I named him Jet.
My favourite pet,
The only pet I ever owned,
Dad found him wandering in a field,
Picked him up and brought him home;
We were friend and playmates for
Oh! I don't know how long
Till the day he decided to leave;
One morning he was there, by evening, gone,
No clue as to where he may be;
I hunted for days, in hedgerows and fields
but I never saw him again;
I hope he was happy, maybe found a mate
To sire more of the tortoise strain.