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Under The Bridge
My place of reflection
under the bridge
to seek the companion of it's shelter.
And share with it
my memories,
babbled and screamed,
of happiness
And of laughter and touch and smiles.
Seeds sewn in my heart
now hearvested
and gone.
And my only soul food
is the bitter reality,
echoed back,
through my acoustic concrete companion,
of a painful truth
that I am
Lonely.
-WM
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Lead Shoes
Presented with a wall of creativity
and grasping slippery arts of everything,
stones of inspiration fall;
and like meteor showers,
burn up and disappear.
Burdened with conflicting indecision
to employ an anxious pen
and paint colourful black ink verse
on plains of inviting desert page;
or,
film golden hues
gracing gifted landscapes
awaiting acknowledgement;
expression is held captive.
Disciplined in nothing
and dabbling in everything,
inspiration is chased
with lead shoes. -WM
Maple
Deciduos fate
of leaf tongued abandonment,
will soon not speak with the wind.
Flushed red,
with greens retreat,
and blushing at the destiny
of twiggy framed nakedness,
it will endure.
Through winters' relentless turmoil,
snowy coats of attempted kindness,
rejected,
in anticipation
of springs
mercy. -WM
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