The road was built by moccasins and hooves,
wagon wheels and oxen,
then came carriages & Model T’s.
A long abused track
that once pounded buckboards, and axils
winds and curves into an uncertain tomorrow.
Now the crumbling foundations
of an old-time gas station mark
where a paved road begins to end.
By chance I found its destination,
a shallow creek crosses where the track dwindles
you can see where wheels meandered on
only to bury themselves into ruts
too deep to climb out of.
I stood there peering forward,
scrub and brush obscuring my view.
It seemed like the beginning of nowhere
but it had to be pointing to somewhere
and so I walked on past where once
hope had died.
Categories:
axils, poetry,
Form: Free verse
It's spring time
with its budding
buds and peeping
leafies creeping
out from their cosy
axils in the stems.
Fresh fragrance
smears the air
with the early blooms
smiling away,
wooing willing hearts
waking from the bleak
of winter cold.
Juvenal-
the whiff of youth,
fresh sap coursing
red ichor infused with
a redder red
as life itself
equates to thrill
and being alive.
Welcome, Spring-
dawn of life re-defined.
09 April 2016
Anacreontic Verse 3 - Poetry Contest by Edward Ebbs
Categories:
axils, nature, seasons, spring,
Form: Lyric