When that cold winter comes
and the chilly wind does blow
best stay indoors
as it's freezing down below
but enquiring minds need to know
who ploughs the roads
so the snowplough man can drive to work
and plough the snow?
in a yellow woods
i chose the path less leaf strewn
as beauty still clung
reds and oranges mixed
browns swirled in last minute
as autumn breathed
Now we're in diffrent postcodes
Lets put our diffrences to bed
Seems we're in diffrent modes
Always have each other missread
Niether of us have fixed abodes
Though not listening to whats said
Whenever the situation explodes
Once again you have now fled
It is another of them episodes
Seems the lights are now on red
Are we at those damm cross roads
With no real clear path ahead
Taken from original version 2014
Choped down a little written 2021
Although I’m a city person,
There’s a place I get to stay
In a lovely rural setting
When I want to get away.
And at times, we’ll head out somewhere
Where a highway doesn’t go,
So we’ll drive along for miles,
Seeing nothing that I know.
There’ll be lots of trees and pastures
And occasionally farms,
All that emptiness of people
Setting off, in me, alarms.
Yes, the vistas all are pretty
And it’s natural and serene,
Yet I picture something going wrong
With no one on the scene.
I know urban driving’s awful -
Traffic makes your nerves explode,
But you never will get stranded,
Unlike on a rural road.
I asked the sky at night,
where is the star that once was mine.
The sky replied in dejection,
the star that once held your affection,
now lives in the street of your heart,
where road are yours but path belongs to her heart.
THE ROADS I'VE TAKEN
I've traveled down some of lifes long roads,
they get you there, and they take their toll.
I've cruised the freeways without a care,
the top down, tunes up, wind in my hair,
and I felt each low road bump and hole.
Can anyone know what a road will bring
having never traversed it before?
'Tis safe when the roads are close to home,
'twas fated when they all led to Rome,
but life is the open road, explore.
Who know himself tries to pick the road
that suits his unique disposition.
When the dusty road chooses the man,
and he's doing the best that he can,
the journey brings dreams to fruition.
Fresh black asphalt winds among the trees.
The open road calls neath skies of blue.
The road doesn't care to know your name,
regardless of your fortune or fame.
In this ol' world all you have is you.
Lost and alone on a dead end road
there's no one else on which to depend.
Life never promised you easy street
or cursed your path so you can't compete.
Your life to live, or not, in the end.
The ocean is my morning commute
where I set sail on my Yahama Outboard
with nothing but tradewinds, waves,
currents and salt air with no traffic in sight
I can take the ocean roads
around the Atlantic
on my limestone archipelago
of the sun, sand and sea
from Grand Bahama and Abaco
on the Little Bahama Bank
to Inagua on the Great Bahama Bank
I can cross the Tongue of the Ocean
from New Providence to Andros
to view the depth at 6,000 feet
and Exuma Sound to visit
the southeast side of Eleuthera
and the western end of Cat Island
I can drive down south to the Bight of Acklins
to visit the secluded beaches
on Acklins, Crooked Island and Long Cay
or to the Ragged Island Range
an archipelago within an archipelago
and travel back up north
to the Cay Sal and Great Isaac Banks
and even travel through the Florida Straits
when I need a vacation getaway to Miami
Roads are all clogged ~ clogged with cars
there's too many too many by far
streets look more like a parking lot
there's no sword for this Gordian Knot
I'm leaving town want to get where I'm going
nothing's slowing me down
leaving town want to get there on time
I'm not dawdling or waiting around
like a hot cup of coffee on a stone-cold morning
or an ice-cold beer on a hot summer's day
it's a new lease on life down the line
leaving nothing behind I'm on my way
I'm taking the train to my next location
no car for me I won't be
driving to a new destination
traveling light making for the station
taking the train I'm taking the train
I am grateful for all the wonderfully different religions people practice…
for the kind and loving person their Gods and their faith
help them to be…
And I’m grateful knowing there are many roads
That lead to kindness,
inner peace…
and spirituality.
The roads I never followed
In the crossroads each of the paths stare at me
One directly leads to success
No lessons learned of hardships to overcome
The other curls and winds around the dense forest
Rocks cover the path and bushes hug the air
Yet the others cry darkly
My feet throw me toward the barricaded road
Thorns tear my skin and rocks trip my steps
While the other goes straight, it is full of fake things
That road I never followed shines brightly through the wooded path I endure
If I were to walk down the meaningless path it would kill me
But now I am running through my clouded visions
Running for my future beyond this road
And running away from who I was
Veggies are ripening in the greenhouse:
Cabbage and turnips,
Aubergines, tomatoes, onions and cucumbers.
Purple foxgloves and blue hollycocks blooming in the yard,
Surrounded by pots of roses.
The watcher’s camera now shows the road
A typical village lane, lined by pretty cottages
How far is it to the sea from here?
I shouldn’t be questioning. Whatever it takes
My roads are circled in any direction I take.
Coming out and in, I distinguish the forms
contours and volumes.
Perhaps it happens automatically
But I like to think I do it consciously
Making each day different from one another.
I might be getting dyslexic
It’s a bit worrisome, though I don't bear
Any high concerns about it.
Maybe I should, but taking it as it comes
Delivers a brighter impression.
When did I wake up?
What direction I take next?
A war has begun
So many roads
Thousands of miles
Half going somewhere
Half showing the way back
You will never know which is which
Nobody will tell you the truth
No one knows the way to go
One thing you should remember
Wherever you go, the best thing is
You will no longer be here
© Poem – XXIII/IX/MMXXV
LRET
I learn to hold a rose’s thorn,
without a flinch, without the scorn,
To withdraw warmth from tempered spring,
Coiled within a cold, hard steel ring.
In alleys closed by brick and stone,
I press my ear for echoes’ tome.
Sometimes the stone rings hollow—
Hidden behind a door I can't follow.
I set my old names down, one by one.
Confronting eyes I once would shun.
Their gaze now soft, no longer sears,
as I open up and forgo my fears.
I burn the mold that confined me,
kneeling in the ash of sympathy.
I cast new shapes in bold new forms.
From old and odd, to more usual norms.
Maps show pathways with ragged ends.
Roads with kinks and sudden bends.
Each one leads to a blind dead-end.
Or forks where pathways refuse to mend.
My demand for perfection in advance.
Often falls flat at first glance.
For why wait too long for redress?
When you know, you can't stop progress!
Instead, I'll take what each step becomes.
Choosing each new turn as it comes.
Always moving forward into the light.
Ignoring shadows and impending blight.
The memories of ties that bind
Are rooted deep within the mind
Though we might wish for something new
Down in the heart we know it’s true
We travel so long and so far
Here we can be just who we are
Step by step we’re all moving down the road
Take me home…. Take me home…
In our lives we all need the space to grow
But all roads lead you home.
Can you recall? I’ll bet you can
Although you may not understand
For memories pass slowly on
But in our hearts are never gone
We travel so long and so far
Here we can be just who we are
Someday, somehow, some way…
A sight, a scent, a song,
Will take you back to yesterday
Lead you home, where you belong.
Step by step we’re all moving down the road
Take me home…. Take me home…
In our lives we all need the space to grow
But all roads lead you home.
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