Smack in the middle
Of the road was a hawk.
Once the brakes were applied,
We just sat there to gawk.
It was standing astride
A dead squirrel, a meal
Which I guess to a hawk
Has a certain appeal.
Perhaps what it planned
Was to dig in and start,
But a bird of prey’s certainly
Cunning and smart.
So on seeing our car,
Talons did what they must
And that hawk flew away,
Leaving us in the dust.
We drove on to the store
To stock up on some food,
Glad that roadkill was not
On our list to include.
We are too far gone there’s no right and wrong
Nothing we do is purely good or bad
All our innocence has disintegrated
Our souls lost to the Abyss
But would you give me one last kiss
It is the same little squirrel,
little baby squirrel,
running down the road
with a acorn in his mouth
bigger than his head
he runs in the middle of the street
dodging the cars tail wagging
running just zigzagging
Little baby squirrel
8/18/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Sometimes I wish
I could be more
middle-of-the-road;
with my politics
with my music
with my writing--
but, then, the question arises,
which neighborhood?
And would that road
be, public or private?
For all centers
are not in the same direction;
none of them a constant--
not even the dead
left to rest,
recycled into
God knows what?
Regardless how your events are dealt and spent
Articles controlled by those you may need to repent
"LIFE GOES ON IT DOESN'T STOP"- regardless how much you resent.
Each passing second, minute "LIFE" continues to on it's way.
Constantly marches ahead, it "GOES" forward never looking back.
Each second, minute all press "ON" becoming days and years-
Dictated not by you, or me- "IT" doesn't skip a single beat or step.
Yet, as an armed guard it "DOESN'T" wink or even glance
Giving false illusions it will "STOP" creating your timeless moment.
Valerie Sherman
Middle Of The Road
I am standing here
In the middle of the road
Watching the spot where you disappeared
Watching the spot where you aren't anymore.
I am standing here
In the middle of the road
Listening to your voice echo in my head
Listening to a voice I won't hear anymore.
I am standing here
In the middle of the road
Touching the spot on my cheek you used to kiss
Touching the spot on my cheek that won't be kissed anymore.
I am standing here
In the middle of the road
Remembering the memories we shared
The memories that won't have brothers and sisters anymore.
I am standing here
In the middle of the road
Alone.
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.