Best Stairwells Poems

I crossed my legs but there was a flood
Blushing red I hope folks understood
But my waters had burst
And the baby's my first
Guess I'm ready to...

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How do I start retirement? With grandsons galore, cooking and cleaning, barrel of fun, and a runway to the twin cities. What’s next, you ask,...

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Desperate Escapes
                       ...

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I'm locked up how is it even possible to go lock down? But like clock work or a slave in debt to a master I...

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One man
Stands
Beneath his white helmet
And demands,

Silence.

Throughout Aleppo.

His stethoscope,
He attaches
To the dust
And listens
From his knees.

The man has
Ten fingers,
A dry brush
And a pair of pliers
To dig like...

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Unless…
        by Odin Roark

Seems just yesterday the sun arced
Over precarious ice
The street’s one elm
Leaned its naked branches with...

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I crossed the road in front of a red 1947 Oldsmobile. Horns 
honking throughout the city. She sounded young and free on the 
phone when...

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Darling Angel, one whom never dwells
Thorn tipped roses laid in your way
Secrets held close whispering wind tells
Fearing the dark nay one soul will stay
Unabashing lies...

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It sparkles while you sleep, streaming ribbons through your breath, 
Distilled so brightly, glaring lightly yet so neat.
Like acres covered in forest, it blankets your...

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Drainage cracks and fingers of
eroding souls.

Long dim hotel stairwells
are sarcastic chasms to the flood,
like artifacts of insanity
and poet's blood.

We dare to run down as
prisoners on...

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Something about liminal spaces gives me the willies in a scary way. 
They raise the tiny hairs on the back of my neck by my...

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The Fuehrer Life raises up its rigid hand
Demands following promises you chose
Its the best thing you could ask for,
 the right to choose
Its what holds...

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Third shift often referred to as the graveyard shift oh the company I keep through these hours covered by shadows.Souls to wander about at night...

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Yearnings of childhood
distant echoes
of mystery, magical trains
broken tracks
the mind —
often late past midnight
senses
the source
strains… reaches…
for stairwells
of 
explanations...

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