Best Potholed Poems

Each year in August the teams descend, cricket foe morphing quickly to friend,
Bonds are forged on a pitch unique, camped on the banks of Reedybrook creek. 
The grass is cut, the fields set out, the umpires shout, ‘Fair play gents, otherwise, you’re out!’
Of drinks consumed,...

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J'aime la vie…I love life, with all that it brings
Alleviating the jarring pain of potholed roads
Labour uphill, thankful for easy descents, 
Observe the rules, most watchful for red lights
Plagued at times by ailments, wear and tear
Yet, like a defiant aging car, I chug on and...

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morning fog diffuses light
the sun has lost direction  
and the world is enveloped
in silence

skeletal trees line 
the potholed road
as two scrawny crows
huddle in the bare branches

yesterday's  mass murders,
flooding  across the pond,
asteroids,
sudden solar wind.
magnetic pole reversal,
drowning in our effluence?

sow many ways
4 world to...

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Crushed coquina’s pains, salty air consoled. 
Mistrusting soul, my heart could not appease.
We met when life was brimming and potholed.
My spoken words were long lost memories.

Relentlessly the past remained in view.
Romantic strolls along the shore soon died.
Again and again past pain stole love’s venue.
Good-naturedly, he...

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Driving through the broken, potholed streets
Lined with houses spanning decades
Each with a thousandfold more character
than that of the cookie cutter impostors they call homes

I appreciate the creaks and groans
Much more than the sheen of granite stones

Value comes down to values.
What are yours?
...

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potholed  ,  boulder   strewn 
winding   path   up   steep  inclines
unwavering   goal 

water  cascades  down 
wearing  ,  skirting  , bounding rocks
I  will   make  my ...

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Blood runs hot in government offices
fueled with the unknown citizen
and the about-to-be.
Stop this day and night with me
and you shall possess the meaning
of freedom.
Follow the fluttering and tattered flag
and you'll find
the emptiness one dreams about.

Friendships made and unmade,
betrayals reveal political lines
on potholed roads.
(you're free?)
(we don't...

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I fly wide-eyed into the glinting night, 
Along valleys with man-made stars aglow. 
Thrills and sorrows on both sides line my flight, 
Neon rivers flow restless down below. 

Grandiose dreams from serried rooftops crow, 
Million-watt schemes fuel every lofty light. 
'Neath a sky scraped by...

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Grace is wasted, on the lost lips of Hope,
Like the charred, bereft bile that stains your tips.
The taste of your tongue, rough and fissured, hangs 
Haphazardly on mine, mind alive with the 
Temptation. 

Should I take your eyes? Worthless as they seem, 
As pitiful as...

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Today, forced to detour
Last week missed my plane
Blamed it on the heavens
No, not me. I am not one to be late
Gnashed my teeth
Gnarled in these jams
Do these passers-by know who I am?
No, they don't and why should they care
After all, they're just like me
With no...

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I have seen them
strutting like cockerels on podiums
sweating like pigs in their ill-fitting suits
words bubbling out of their snake forked tongues
-democracy!- development!- unity!

I have seen them
lock themselves up in their posh grave tomblike cars,
is it to avoid the dust of the potholed roads
or the sight...

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When I was but a boy
in the small village of Cold Springs,
I lived near a cantankerous old witch.
At least, that's what the gossip implied she was.
Her name was Almeda Hamilton, and she was a hoarder.
Of course, we knew nothing of hoarders back then
and most everyone...

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Idle Thoughts 


 When I write of a rose should 
I add the adjective beautiful
I have never seen an ugly rose. Therefore, all roses are stunning
But we can argue about whether we like red or white ones.
When I kissed her tender lips was 
It since...

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The young and the old are part of man's fold.
Love between them, better than gold…tenfold.
The past before told, as the future shall behold.
Depends upon love shown, not an empty billfold.

Chores hide and seek, anger vanquished…controlled.
Life molds by example as truths are told.
Family meetings upon hope's...

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The road is not the best
it is close to not at all.
Just when you think
you've had enough of this
washboard, potholed
ribbon of hell.

The fire weeds that edge
the roadway
capture your curiosity
with rich abundance
of dancing colors....

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