He eats gravel
Chews on stone
Crunching crunching
On rock harder than bone
He swallows big mouthfuls
Out on the street
If you’re out driving
Then you might just meet
You’ll be going along
And feel a loud bump
Followed by your back tire
Complaining with a thump
You’ll ask yourself
What could make such a hole?
Torn up pavement
Such a sight to behold.
Your annoyance is apparent
A foul mood you foster
For many a times you have met
The pothole monster
Truth is a battered woman,
Trampled beneath people’s feet.
After all, you can pick her flavor?
Savory, salty, or sweet?
Nothing is ever absolute
Except for that statement.
Fear of responsibility is the root,
Of this disease that has spread
That will murder your morality
And choke truth dead.
Because if there is a right,
It would cause a conundrum,
That we avoid with all our might.
But I’m afraid the world sings this song
That if there is a right,
There must be a wrong.
So if you are on the way
And you happen upon truth
Wrap her up and hold close
Feed her at your table
And she’ll show you what you treasure most
Digging through dirt and dust
Bones and broken pottery,
Shards and rust.
I seek truth and secrets true
A discipline kept
By very few.
In my work,
I search for one thing
Between the cracks of walls it lurks
As I work, it becomes clear,
That on sentence,
“Someone was here.”
Did you know I once heard
In a poetry class
That a sign of a weak poem
Is when the writer asks?
Did you know that I heard
The teacher say
That a question has no place
In a poet’s wordplay?
So then I asked myself
Can you do this task?
Where the narrator does nothing
But question and ask?
Maybe I could end every line
With that lovely little mark?
What’s wrong with this symbol?
Am I correct in saying its not dirty or dark?
Dont you think that we owe
It a little respect?
A symbol of curiosity
Lovely Punctuation and not a defect?
Where does the river go?
Tell where exactly does it flow?
Where does the river call its home?
Where does the river go?
I hope it can take me there someday.
I wish the river would carry me away.
A modern day Moses, carried from the fray.
I hope the river takes me there someday.
Iced Coffee
Crumpets
Tartlets
Stew
Your name spelled in foods
That make me think of you.
Raindrops
Snowdrops
Thunder
Dew
Your name spelled in weather
That makes me think of you
Lilacs
Stardust
A charm
That’s blue
Your name spelled in trinkets
That make me think of you
a rose turned to a daisy,
“I envy the sunflower for its unapologetic presence
and the way it shines bravely
in a world much too fond of understatement.
I wish my petals were a bright as she.”
a sunflower turned to an iris,
“I envy the rose’s delicate beauty
and thorns that ware off bad intentions
and those who only love her for her bloom.
I wish my petals were as rich as she.”
How many lives exist
Parallel to me
Running side by side
Never to intersect or meet
But it's not so much the parallel lives
That occupy my mind
But ones who intersect but one time
To meet at one point
Before going on our merry way
Never to intersect again
Two lonely little rays
These bones feel hollow
The wind blows through my chest
This suit of armor is supposed to protect
But in it, it is hard to rest
The breeze whistles through my helmet
Is it in there, I wonder?
I hid it long ago,
When I had torn it asunder
Neath plates of metal
I hid it away, lest it be torn apart
But I really wonder if its there now,
A tin man, with no heart.
Has it ever occurred to you
That we’re looking at life through a keyhole?
This rusty world
Isn’t what it’s meant to be.
Any beauty we see
Are traces of something far greater
And far more wonderful
Than us or this broken world around us.
We are peering at life
Through a small sliver.
As long as we draw breathe
We have no perspective
Of what is to come.
For the opening is far too small
For us to even understand.
By the Brooke 