Down the Road

I see flowers growing
down the road. I see
them shooting through
the concrete. Under
my feet isn’t a street;
it’s a dirt road only
the roughest feet know.
I hear birds chirping
down the road. I see
the sun shoot rays
down the road. Now,
I stay in place, as I
take up space. I see
what could possibly be
in front of me. Down
the road is where I’ll go.

The Chosen One

You are the chosen one.
You are the burning sun
that lights up the sky.
You are the birds singing:
the sunflowers springing.
You are the love the world
desperately needs. You are,
by far, the most important
one to me and everyone
else. You know how to help
others that don’t know how
to help themselves. You are
beautiful like a naked smile.
You are sweet like honey
and crisp like new money.
You are the chosen one.
It was pretty easy to choose
you because you turn grey
skies blue. I knew to choose
you, and luckily for me,
you knew to choose me, too.


The Discovery

For many years, people have been
searching for treasure somewhere
under the sea. Many have tried
to dive to the bottom and died
with gold shining in both eyes.
The treasure has made men mad
and has turned good men bad.
The treasure remains untouched.
No man or woman has found
this underwater town housing
treasure causing false pleasure.
Not until many years later,
when there was a sailor
who traveled as he pleased
and watched over the seas.
Now and again, he casted a pole
in hopes to catch enough food
to eat. One day, he casted a pole,
and he felt a tug. He pulled up
the line, and he knew he found
the lost treasure he only heard
about. Without making a sound,
the sailor traveled into the mist
with the treasure he just found.
The discovery was never known
as the sailor never made it home.

Losing Count

I’m losing count of the days.
I’m not winning this game.
Many moons have fallen
before my eyes. Many stars
have burnt out. Many nights
have come. Many times,
I’ve lost track – lost count.
The number of times?
I’ll never know the amount.
I lose track of the time
as I pen lines that rhyme.
Sometimes, I wish I knew
how many times in life
that I have counted
the same day twice. Still,
the count is gone: lost.
Each line that I’ve drawn
has now been crossed.
Countless of times, I have
wasted time recounting.
Now, I think to myself:
I should’ve been rounding.


Windows

My eyes are windows,
and my mouth is
a door I slam shut
here and there.
My feet are floorboards.
My body is the house
that my mind powers.
I live here; I try to keep
it nice. I have my own
back. It supports me.
My arms reach out
to my neighbors.
My soul lives inside
the air that we share.
My heart hides beside
lungs that breathe
and preach peace.
My eyes are windows
to an unknown world.
Are you ready to go
to a place only I know?