Bad back
In the news year
Making the right turns
On the wrong lanes
In our timed lives
We make the best of a new time
The News Year
1
Tag Archives: Poetry
The Felt Moon
Felt moon
On my eyes
As I lie awake and
Swoon
To its light opaque color
Pasting its crispness
Upon me
The moon and its mysteries
Lie beyond me
Call the Feathers
Call the feathers
In a straight fashion
Walking down the isle of
Contrition
Contribution
Holding up
The human evolution
Call the feathers
Call the boots
Ease the tensions
Erase the loops
Here come the birds
Calling Sides
Calling sides
Major dilemma
Taken in strides
Years come and go
Making room for us to grow
But what will come of
Yelling that coverts to anger
And anger
Nothing
Let our resolve
Be greater than nothing
Lake Said
Lake said
Take care
On the eve of the
New year
Stations bustle
With life and hope
New Years resolve on
Full display
Hoping to see a year anew
Starting over in a city
Seeming to fit
This year will be a hit
Rainy Lazy
Lazy rain
On a Monday
New Year’s Eve
Hours away
Bring the fresh start
Without the clouds
Doing their part
Come new year
In due time
Start again
Feeling fine
Ship Canal
When the Des Plaines and Illinois Rivers
Meet
Headed to the Mississippi
There is a pace
Nestled on the shores
Of Lake Michigan
Black building scraping the sky
Leaning back
On the windy side
At the bed of the river
Lies mysteries
And long live series
Notes and pens
Float at the riverbed
Years of passing through a city’s heart
And in all of our heads
When the three rivers make one
And down stream it flows
Through Chicago
Chicago CST
Chicago CST
Central Standard
I keep on planning
To make my way
To the Windy City
Last the cornfield to the north
Passes
Before the lake approaches
A feeling
Of lost but
Not stolen
Chicago
On my mind
As I head that way
New Year’s Sky
New Years Sky
New York City
Bustling streets
Everyday dreams
On the streets
Lifted up to
Empire high
Ever upwards
And continually so
Feeling the New Years glow
Eastern Seaboard Foam
The seaboard
Bustles in the east river
East of the Manhattan bustle
In Brooklyn
Memories
Of these sights
Pass through
My mind
On a morning
In Indiana
A Cup of Songwriting 