Keith O.J. Hunt Poet Rhyme

Whither I Stroll

Into a great silver realm of night I go,

   and strange paths I find winding

   whither I stroll;

Jutting spear-fences cutting, tipped

   frozen cold,

   against a misted moon;

Twinkling snow on the death of eve,

When stray cats envy the warm windows....

And strangers in little alien-coves

   seek their familiar front-door homes,

   sometimes, I too

   (suddenly)

   feel alone

   winding down strange paths,

   whither I stroll

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Richard Lamoureux March 24, 2014 at 9:13 AM Somehow there is a comfort in the familiar even when we are faced with the cold. It is sad that for some there is only shelter on the outside of others doors. Keith O.J. Hunt March 24, 2014 at 11:49 AM Yes Richard --- I've helped many homeless people over the years, sometimes they seep in to my thoughts and I think of them and their trials and tribulations. I will always defend them. Thanks for caring! and your kind comments!

Charmaine Chircop March 23, 2014 at 9:56 PM I too,( Suddenly) feel alone winding down strange paths,wither I stroll...Powerful and deep these lines that in many ways I can relate too...Excellent post! Btw tnks for your kind comments on my humble verse.B-)

Sandy Ivy D March 22, 2014 at 10:22 PM Epic Write, Keith. Strange little alien-coves! Unique verse and thought. SandyIvy