Treasure Island

David Hart


Daybreak by David Hart
Day break. The yellowing-yawning
sun doth now
Emblazen a jigsaw horizon.
Color feasts of
yellow-orange bedizen (dressup)
the once
nigrescent/purple sky.

Birds languish
in a warm toasty breeze
amidst undulating
greenery chirping
their loving ado.

A fat frog
primps and cleans
His bug-eyes
with his
slimy tongue.

Someones and no ones will ever
Be after one's name,
Nothings and somethings will
Never be in the game.

Perched on a polite park bench
Without a serious care
O, tantalizing life.
Someone in a war-trench
under fire isn't thinking
about military rank.

O, enigmatic life bestead
my then-times
reticent tread
whence I pontoon
down the cold
River Styx.

An instinct to trust
Tends to go bust,
An instinct to reject
Mayhap a time to reflect
wanting always to trust
alwaysing hoping for
a love to confect.

The evers will say
their nothings
The sames will
cherish their

Anon, one hopes to avoid
all prickly little stings.

Help, caresses, love and fame
ever nothing to be to their name,
NEver something to be their wailing

Sometimes ideals
erode effortlessly
in pain,
sometimes in
winds of fame.

Submitted: Saturday, February 14, 2009

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