Wide Lanes walking out all day.
Trusting in the Lord Jesus I am one with God.
Kneeling to My best friend Jesus is my best friend.
Laying before God I know he is always with me.
Everything will be ok I know this deep in my heart.
Jesus is always with me.
Echoes of juniper waves swirling around my mind.
Walnut cake silver hair from age.
Questing for salvation Jesus is my Savior.
The Intersecting Lanes of Judas Kiss and Street Justice
Sometimes our greatest enemy is not the person we keep at a distance in our life. It is not even the enemy that lives within us. But is found in the hypocrisy of the one that is in our inner circle that wears the guise of a friend. To that disloyal,back stabbing rat whos lips are lace with the poison of Judas. To that one we take by force through calculated action. Either by by feet, or by hair, we drag that one to the lanes of where judas kiss and street justice meet.
Far too many are not content.
Discontent often causes resentment.
When we drift into unfamiliar lanes;
Lanes that are out of our domain,
Absolutely nothing is ever to be gained;
And eventually, this will cause much pain.
Sometimes, we seek the wrong change.
Sometimes, it's better to remain the same.
I thank my friends for everything
I cheers to life, to demonstrations
To flights, to chess game plays
To city neon lights at the seaport
To ceviche and mangoes in my youth
To everyday life writing poetry
To sunset viewing and appreciation
To support, to love, and be loved
I'm afraid to delete your phone number
When I really get used to it calling you
But for now I just fly down memory lane.
So we’ll go no more a bowling
So late into this night
Though our arms be still as willing
And the lanes be still as bright,
For balls wear out the fingers
And arthritis shows its might,
While the back pains all linger
And knees need rest’s respite.
Though the night is made for bowling
And the lanes close far too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a rolling,
Until the clock strikes noon.
Happy Hour is one drink short
of a buzz,
I try to determine the moment
it all went sour.
I’m looking into the empty glass
wondering where the ‘happy’ went,
did it dissipate on a curling lip
or a sigh?
I find the remote in the back of my mind
where remoteness lives and has its bunker.
It’s been a tough past year, and we’ve barely sipped
this new one, bad joo-joo everywhere.
what with all this apocalyptic crap going on.
Occasionally a camera will capture a look
in a strangers eyes, and I see my thoughts there.
We are all lonely inside our eyes I guess.
The barkeep picks up his tip and nods to my fading presence.
The taxi home gets lost between Reykjavik and Lahore,
we all arrive just in time to watch the day show up
on the 6 o’clock news.
Body counts and empty faces talking through mealy lips -
time for another drink.
It is said that when you pass,
if but one person remembers you
then you will live two lives; one in the hereafter,
and the other in a rented mind,
but when you are totally forgotten,
what then?
Perhaps someone will forever
Be opening doors in your astral body
trying to figure out
what you once meant to them.
Of course there will always be the one
that leaves a still smoking hole in you,
a bullet now lodged in an inoperable place.
That person probably does not recall you
or regard you at all,
or even note your long disappearing trick.
My life flashed before my eyes as I sat in the driver’s seat
I clung to the wheel for dear life
my face was as white as a sheet
Would this brave man named Dale
live to tell the tale?
Had he written out a will
Drafted Out in great detail ?
I was petrified you see
But he had confidence in me
His fantastic sense of humour
Acted as a diffuser
He calmly talked me through it
With the patience of a saint
How he coped I’ll never know
As Michael Schumacher I ain’t!
He had a scientific brain
And as we drove he would explain
Tell me random facts and stories
As we ventured through welsh lanes
Now I really can’t deny
That one manoeuvre made me cry
But with his tolerance and charm
My frustration he did disarm
When I finally passed my test
His relief was well expressed
He turned my life around
Now freedom I have found
Favourite Teacher or Professor contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
20th October 2019
Walking alone down the leaf covered lanes,
the ground is still damp from Yesterday's rain.
A cathedral of trees tower overhead,
with colors of Fall that haven't yet shed.
Now in this moment when Winter arrives,
the cold wind blows and the chill is alive.
The very first snowflake floats from the sky,
falls on my face like a tear from my eye.
Winter's lace begins to blanket green pines,
every neighbors' yard and rooftop it finds.
The smoke starts to drift from the chimney stacks,
while snow covers any trace of my tracks.
Resting near a warm fire I'll remain,
dreaming of my day on leaf covered lanes.
12/2/18
Down many traveled lanes I sauntered sadly,
Up avenues I’ve trampled more than twice.
I've slipped and in prostration cried out badly
for anyone to blare their soft advice.
-
“Reverberate!” I thought in paths I’d fathered.
Illuminate my present gifts of chance,
these shreds of life that I have never gathered,
the times I’ve shunned the elegance of dance.
-
In simple furtherance of all my sorrow,
I gathered all my hunches to my chest,
and borrowed all the blame that I could borrow,
and never tried a virgin to molest,
until the light of millions of tomorrows
could pave my path and put me to my rest.
-------------------------
Among ancient groves,
One summer night alone.
Secrets on the wind.
And awakening to
Mother natures symphonic
Mystery of life.
When people used to
Find a home in the hearth-light,
Owls haunt the hedgerows.
Each day an event
Every step an adventure,
To new horizons!
Booze and madness.
I'm feeling it. Again,
nobody believes me but the nonsense, it just makes sense.
It's all about the soul deep down inside
That's me.
I'm in my head and I don't think I'll ever get out.
And then suddenly he knew
it was true,
sometimes.
He did drink alone and he is mentioned in the Abnormal Psychology textbook
under psycho-derelict and possibly addicted to self-pity
pretending not to be. Poor me.
And one more thing, I would always rather be alone with the unknown
where nothing really matters when you get right down to the bottom of it.
And for some people I know the only way to keep sane is to agree with you and always eat spaghetti al dente.
Glad for the country lanes
and the buzzing bees.
Glad for our talk under the trees,
and that he listened.
Cedric loves me,
I am sure of it,
for he squeezed my hand
before he moved away.
Glad for the country lanes,
and for that lane he is in now,
in his house next to his beehive,
and the honey bees.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The first line is from the hymn, "Glad that I live am I".
-------------------------------------------------------------
If our springs are uncertain we enjoy fine sunny days
A feeling for spring, even when bad, is always good
Such is the opening of April, not winter nor summer
It is spring fickle and chilly a spring of dear England
In spite of the cold, green steals along our hedgerows
All along river banks and flourish in the bowery lanes
Little daisies, thinly sprinkled, bow to us in friendship
Make our gardens flame with tints of far away places
Take a walk on bare turf over wind swept meadows
The coltsfoot shows yellow flowers on barren lands
Blue and white violets sit in their established places
A cardamine smiles wide from a moist green ditch
Primroses in their loveliness are punctual as daylight
In spots where they have appeared as long ago as time
Anemonies dance in breezes as they wave sweet waves
A season for love or tortured hearts, of sadness or joy
When reality and illusion
are one in the same,
The the result is confusion
that's taking each lane...
Though I flash every high beam
trying to get by,
It's the glare from behind
That's much greater than mines....
So what I'm trying to get around
Doesn't know that I'm there,
Seem's all the light at my back
Is making me disappear...
So I move to the left
just to see what's ahead,
And see sign's along this cleft
That I must have misread...
When I pull out my shades
I can finally get over,
And avoid the charade
Just by taking the shoulder...
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.