Best Culvert Poems

Two riding on a single
Man! How fast that bike will go
Down the hill around the curve
Blow wind blow

At the very bottom piled up
In a culvert drain
In great agony and pain
Totally distained

Crumpled metal, torn clothes
Bleeding and blood stains
Harsh words from parents
Tears as soap and water cleaned

All...

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The shield riders heading over the Dunlaven bridge,
They ride as swift as the wind,
already their weapons were ready,
they did glint, not, in the deepening shadow.
Ride to your fate Valkyrie,
shield maidens of the red,
shield riders of the city,
bring glory to your mighty Alahsar.

Four hundred and fifty...

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We have lost our sense of humor.

		We chase the alligator 
		down Front Street,
		past Mollies Convenience Store
		and the County Clerk- Recorder Office.

		He’s taken us under
		a red sky grand,
		hardly noticed.

		Were it not for the children
		riding on his back,
		we would let him go.

		They sit on him,
		smooth as a...

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We see but grey where once was green
As bulldozers now scrape,
Turning a joyful rural scene
Into joyless landscape. 

The area was green-belt land
With forest and pasture 
But as our numbers still expand
We will invade nature.  

And so that farmland must give way
To high profit housing....

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The location of the Spring Creek School was on a flat, nestled 
between the cliff on the north and the Little White River on the south.  The river 
flowed in from the northwest, circled to the south of the school about a quarter 
mile...

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My park to me was not see-saws nor swings
instead, a treasure chest of stranger things.
A marble grave, 1891, well kept
where 'Tiny', estate owner's dog now slept.
The long gone Manor House front Portico
and where the star struck teenage lovers go
holds carvings, some initials, from the past
though...

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He comes to his father holding his pet,
“Something’s wrong with Beano, he needs a vet!”

The Father looks down and seeing the frog,
Struggles with words to explain to the sprog.

So he takes a deep breath and starts to explain,
That “Beano will not be in any pain”.

“The...

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The drain of education buckle my belt of understanding to slight I saw twinkle of light  from the dark corner of the sky, the branch of imagination hook's me to river Nile I can't stop loving you. The river Nile pen is my diary...

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 Diary Notes: Lament at Dawn A Year Ago and yet now No Change
				                             
………………………………………..…at the heart...

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Had visitors over on the weekend
The subject turned to life's scary moments
At ten years old had a daredevil heart
Dragged this story out of retirement

Trembled like I was living it over again
With my good buddies Ken and Bob
Crawled into a narrow culvert on our bellies
Amazing how...

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Diary Notes: Lament at Dawn
				                             …at the heart of the township
ten-ton buses throb empty
				their drivers slumped in...

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The Cinematic Film Treatment as Poetic Element 
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Sagitanis Goes 'Bow Wow' 

Nightingale Sagitanis is a homeless woman suffering chronic and debilitating bouts of near-terminal existential ennui and muscatel intoxication until, in the midst of a heat spell caused by bovine methane in the suburbs...

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The call came in just after 2:00pm,
Anton was doing office paperwork,
a big part of any detective’s job,
lucky he had never been bad with words.

The word was that a body had been found
by some children playing by the river,
thinking of young minds seeing such a sight
was...

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(dedicated to mother India)

The garbage collection van hasn't arrive.
Two hefty black plastic bags, last night's flea blown rubbish,
Waiting to be discarded, I wait.
It's almost ten, the garbage collectors arn't coming, I presume.
Town-garbage-bin is half a mile far, I don't enjoy going there.
Honey, the house stinks...

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The sky was black, as the rain poured down.
For three solid weeks, that's been the pattern in our town.
No mere sprinkle, and no heavy mist,
But near-torrential rains. We're all sick of this!
I watched one brook, as it went racing past,
Sweeping bottles and debris away so...

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