Journey Rhyme Poems

Havoc Manuscript

Havoc Manuscript  
Rook goes horizontally and vertically 
Poems written with no boundaries 
A bishop slides diagonally 
With anxious hand writing 
Absurd mind deeply rasing

Unknow Road Ahead

Unknown Road Ahead 
With no guidance ahead 
Eyes aligned with strong mountains 
Flows with current  
Remain skeptical toward a bleak future 
Vacant thoughts veer

Desert Poem

Desert Poem 
Always chasing the wind  
Sweet sound soothing violin 
Air dry, subdued quiet room 
Poetic drift embrace gloom 
Paper waits, ideas bend 
Wrinkled

Ink Hues On A Winding Road

Ink Hues On A Winding Road 
Chapters turning 
Leaves falling 
Story telling 
Intrigued animation serine 
Deeper in every page sink beneath 
Verge of complex themes

Touring a Treasury

Much treasure lies within
a Souper's tour begins,
word nuggets to delight
arranged and in plain sight.

No digging into sand
just a day in poetry land,
such brilliance can be

When my Life Changed

Travel

Being yourself
In a foreign land
Is like heading back
From where you came

Take care
Among new friends
To discover Earth
Through shared lens

Allow that light
To overwhelm
The journey forward
And back again

I Am Rose

I am rose, albeit a dusty rose;
my journey forward has been long and hard 
along this narrow well-worn path I chose
that’s left me old and

Volcano Run part 3 - Escaping the Ashfall

Part three

Once we were home, the bikes secure
we sealed the clubhouse, best we could
waiting for the ash to stop 
but fearing that it never would,

All

Volcano Run part 2 - The Ride Home

At crack of dawn we headed out
before a cock or rooster crowed
and soon we found our asphalt path;
at home again, upon the road.

That 'greasy spoon'

Volcano Run part 1 - The Ride to the Mountain

We ventured out one summer morn
to meet up with the rising sun,
the trip began at Castle Rock;
we joined the others for the run.

Inside a truck

Time and Value

In the grip of Time, a silent flow,  
From Roman days to Gregorian glow,  
A dance of clocks, a crafted frame,  
A

The Road

I started toddling at seven months,
Walking the roads as from twelve
Shaping my feet from sands and mud upon bumps
Frequenting the paths to hell and into

To Die is to Live

To Die is To Live

To die is to live in a life more complete
Where sorrow and joy in eternity meet
It's not just the, but a

ALL OF WHERE WE'VE BEEN

As we journey through the many, of ife's different phases;