Rivers of Time

Dinosuars waiting for stone to erode,
their skeletons covered, uncovered again,
iron that's forgotten the blood where it flowed
and phosphorous leached from a primitive brain.

Delicate sabers of soft-stepping cats
enshrouded in shimmering oceans of sand,
strata of relative sediment that's
concealing the bones of the earliest man.

Visible traces of numerous beasts,
the sum of Earth's creatures forever enshrined.
Signs of their passing won't slow in the least
the rivers and runnels of ongoing time.

"We loved the earth, but could not stay" ~ Loren Eiseley~

Lost my Nerve

Lost my nerve though she seemed willing when I kissed her on the cheek. Even so I found it thrilling, I was giddy for a week.
Our next date I acted distant, thought that I could be reserved, But her kiss was so insistent,
...once again I lost my nerve.

Epitaph

The poems form a universe
within the writer's mind,
totality in metered verse,
infinity defined.

The poet gives his soul away
in portions he decides
with thoughts that ebb and flow to play
emotions like the tides.

He writes of love and other things
he may have found in me,
of broken hearts and Angel's wings
I've lost and found at sea...

of parenthood and common sense,
of brothers on "The Wall"...
revisiting their innocence
and other ports of call...

An honest bard, he re-ignites
the glaring torch of truth...
with wells of bitter ink he writes
the epitaph of youth.

Consider

Consider if you will our flying friends,
recipients of nature's greatest grants.
Imagine just how dull Earth might have been
had birds not struck a bargain with the plants.


Consider if you will a simple seed
whose embryo and sustenance combine
to give the feathered traveler his speed
and pay the fare for those they drop behind.


Consider if you will the quest of man,
digging up his world in search of power,
his universal, superficial plans
are clearing skies of birds, and Earth of flowers.

Consider now the miracle of Spring--
suspended from a petal and a wing.

© Copyright 2002 W.D. Neighbors 

The Flow of Time

The flow of time is thick and cruel

like wintertime molasses.

I'm older now and such a fool

I don’t know where my ass is.

Okay..its silly....I don't care...lol..... it is a "draft"....which means it can look silly while I continue to work on it until it either makes sense...or I quietly delete it.

Summers End

The clouds, in fury, gather and the wind begins to blow
the summer from the land, but summer doesn’t want to go.

An angry shout of thunder follows each new flash of pain.
The weary earth is set upon by multitudes of rain.

The knights of autumn fall on the retreating summer sun,
and mists above the mourning tell the world that Fall has won.