Footsteps on cracked roads,
we rush, yet never look down—
the ground holds our past.

Night swallows the sun,
leaving only shadows tall—
we remain,all that’s left.

For some of us
abstractions
can flow too far apart
to gather together
Still we navigate
through poems caught
in stormy weather
Then there those
whose desires gets tossed
into a word salad
of creative thought
Pour on some dressing
romantically obscure
express your victim hood
your poetical fears!
Page after page
line after line
recording
the history of
the Poet kind!