Small towns slowly awaken with the rising dawn
Methodic rhythms of routine move you along
A care-free track of vague irrelevance
The setting sun tucks your life away
Into carefully maintained homes
The town slows to a heartbeat
The night lulls you to sleep
With a final sigh
You start to dream
Perhaps of
Something
More
We watched the barefoot children in green yards dart through shadows, playing their childish games. We saw their innocents and we knew that…
They were not us
Through open doors and windows we saw them staring blankly at their flickering screens. They were sitting so close yet ignoring each other. Wishing…
They could be us
There was an old couple sitting on their front porch, fading from life. They smiled and waved, trying to remember a time when they knew…
How to be us
We pause for just a moment beneath the street lights glow, your hands in the pockets of my jeans and mine on your shoulders. Our souls touched and we were…
Happy to be us
Someday they will gather at my end
Each heart will mourn in its own way
The old folks will cry without shame
The young will smile and remember when
The children will just wonder who’s in the box
Around my workplace there is a buzz about my book ‘The Incoherant Rambling of an Old Man’ and a few of my co-workers asked me if I could dedicate something to them. So here is my dedication to you, Anna Bannana, Jake, Lynn, and Kindra. This one is for you. To the rest of the world…hope you enjoy it to.
This one’s for Jake because you suck in apparel
This one’s for Anna who’s just drifting along
This one’s for Lynn who Groots-out to Star Wars
This one’s for Kindra who just sings her own song
A Retail Life
I trudge through the side entrance
Past the wall of Pepsi products
Down the aisle between
Beauty aids and bedding
Passing stacks of toilet paper
As Seen on TV and Sporting goods
Deeper into the insatiable appetite
Of American consumerism
I enter through the door marked
DO NOT ENTER!
Climb the stairs to exchange my freedom
For a badge number and a pricing gun
To trade my free-will for numbness
I am now doomed to lurk up and down
These never ending corridors
Seeking, probing…Forever searching
For the end of the day
Here, they sleep
Freedom from the troubles of living
Close to those that left before them
Welcoming those that have followed
In peace
In this restful place
Surrounded by the wooded hills of youth
Serenity is everlasting
Broken only by the chattering of squirrels
The summer song of birds
They have no need for dreams
In their silent world
Trees and grasses dance in unison
Upon a soft summer breeze
I can feel their happiness
There is no sorrow
Here they slumber
Perhaps one day soon…
So shall I
Futile musings of an old ghost
Ramblings
Footprints of a Witness.
Poetry, short stories and a smidgen of real-life drama
Living slowly, adventuring often ✨️
The Poems of Sam Bartle
Gabriela Marie Milton - Three Times #1 Amazon Bestselling Poet, Pushcart Nominee, Publisher
Where curiosity meets opportunity
The musings and ramblings of a young poet.
Read, Look, Listen
Poetry BLOG By Edge of Humanity Magazine
Funny Blogs With A Hint Of Personal Development
through the darkness there is light
binge thinking and other things in life
Nature's nuances in a nutshell
Rock & Metal Reviews That Hit Hard
Life is a story, waiting to be told
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Our thoughts define us, so let's focus on a few.
Jerry Brotherton 