ForeclosureHer fingers run through golden mane,a man opens a trailer door.She doesn't cry, even complain--her family needs the money more.She hugs his neck, their last charade,it's silent in the barn tonight.One thousand dollars will be paidto take her pony out of sight.He whimpers soft, looks in her eyes,and it's apparent that he knows.She kisses him and says goodbyethen watches as the trailer goes.There's something missing in the airand stolen dreams brush through her hair.While Driving HomeThe outside moves by in slow motionas I drive off in my car,I barely see the brightness of the ocean.My day with her, my only notionbut I just can't tell where we are--the outside moves by in slow motion.Construction zones causing commotion,bring traffic jams that stretch back far;I barely see the brightness of the ocean.And in my car invades emotionwith loud bass drums and sharp guitars--the outside moves by in slow motion.Without a choice, bitter devotion,it hits me like a clear night's stars.I barely see the brightness of the ocean.Couples pass 'round their sun-tan lotion,seagulls gather on sandy bars,the outside moves by in slow motion;I barely see the brightness of the ocean.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Two New Poems
Since my website has been under construction forever, I've decided to post some of my work on this blog until further notice. Below you'll find two of the poems I've written in the past few days. Enjoy!