The livid life form,
all consuming storm,
drowns those from within,
who are nearly dim,
and knows not mercy,
for those are pursy,
Breaks life and sorrow,
until dusk and morrow.
Yet eager tempest flows,
......
A black sky.
A marble ceiling.
The crumbling cement cracks with the wind.
An old dog, with gentle grey
under its chin, sleeps on an
overgrown sidewalk.
A half-finished microwave meal, under
a broken chandelier.
......
“ She was only 11 years old.
When her dad washed away.
She saw darkness when her mother got cold.
She always told people to stay.
She left home within three years.
She became more happy than ever.
Even though she is happy she has tears.
She knows she has people that will love her forever.
She tried to control herself but lost.
She felt unwanted.
......
People rejected me for the way I was,
The urge to change myself rose
more than ever just because
there was nothing else I chose.
I desired to be part
of my ''foremost'' friends
And took it to heart
that it had to make sense,
......
Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred D. Bax
......
The livid life form,
all consuming storm,
drowns those from within,
who are nearly dim,
and knows not mercy,
for those are pursy,
Breaks life and sorrow,
until dusk and morrow.
Yet eager tempest flows,
......
Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred D. Bax
......
There’s nothing for it sometimes,
But to walk straight and face into it,
Eyes and nose running
from the frigid gale,
Wind pushing back like an indifferent mob
There’s nothing for it sometimes
But to throw your arms wide,
and push back
Looking to the joy of coming home
......
Deaths of young people, near and dear ones,
Their dead bodies float in mourning rivers
While we helplessly watch ourselves
Being carried away by uncontrolled tears.
They die in hospitals, built for saving lives,
And we stay back home or in quarantines,
Practising the precautionary measures
While honoring the helpless govt. guidelines.
......
Gloomy darkness seems to have engulfed
The whole world of life
As light has hidden its head behind.
Sobs of sorrows are heard
Everywhere in each and every terrain.
The flocks are forced to stay back home in fear.
And I am glued to the scary news channels
In the hope of good news
That the hard times have passed
......