Round 10

Pieces make up the whole.
A little bit of me and a little you
simmered in the stew of life,
stirred gently to ease away
bubbles of trouble just below
the boiling point.

Confusion compounds our every day.
Explosions just below the surface
are so much less dangerous
than current day suicide bombers.
However, the pieces and confusion
don't always mesh and can ignite
in a whole new way.

The highway leads us to destinations,
some familiar and some foreign.
When the bridge ends abruptly,
we wake startled from our dreams.
Shake away the horrors of the day
and move forward into the light.
A new and uncertain world awaits.

These Halls

These halls echo in their emptiness
and reverberate all the pain
and suffering witnessed over the years.
What was once a magnificent place
of hope, courage, and strength
is reduced to rubble that stands
ready to meet its own demise
much in the way many patients did.

With all new and improved things,
the old becomes negelected.
People don't need both; they need
only the best and the brightest.
These walls no longer contain either.
With one final sweep
through the corridors, I say goodbye
to that all-too-familiar feeling.

Tomorrow, this building with all
of its memories, will exist no more.
The wrecking crew will cart away
the remaining souls with each brick
and beam torn rudely from its
resting place. Each memory
will be buried with the dust
as the past disappears.

A String

hearts unattended
still resemble a shadow
of their former selves

------------------------

Optimism is easily lost
among the debris of which you speak.
Seek that which you desire
and restore the ebb and tide
of this thing called life.

--------------------------

would it were that easy
nothing in life is so certain
and paper means nothing
better to trust instinct
and live in the moment

Round Robin 8

Brass goblets dribble sour wine
and perfection isn’t always so.
I tipped my hat to the lady
as any gentleman would.

I tell the following tale:

She was a generic baby.
You know: assorted gurgles and coos.
Rumors flew, wafted on rising innuendo;
They say she knew her business.

“Huh! Buncha dam yankees” he muttered,
wiping tobacco juice off his chin.
Her father didn’t believe a word
spoken against her.

“Chocolate ripple fudge” she sighed
She licked her lips with childish pleasure.
Moonlight, like irradiated butterscotch
came from a moon that knew her secrets.

They say some people move to a different beat.
Hers was a bump and grind.
Too many men could attest to this.
Too many wives shied away from her as well.