Robert Charles Howard Poems

A bridge is a curious thing to cover.
    mile after mile of naked road -
        then a wooden box over stream or ravine.
...

Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
                where here is everywhere
        and every time is now.
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She wove a silken tapestry
in the calm still of a moonlit night
spinnerets spewing slender strands -
light as air but strong as Kevlar.
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Golden prairie fields
caressed by August breezes
softly call your name.
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Some days
I'm just poemed out.
Blank screen between the ears.
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Is this poem safe to drink?
Unsure - need to run some tests:
Got to get the PH straightened out
Or perhaps an imaging scan is required.
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There were no rabbit hat extractions,
Floating pastel scarves,
Or fluttering dove wings
But it was magic nonetheless.
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Imagine a Human Family picnic
where everyone shows:
from every sect and hue and nation
gathered at a common table.
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A rainbow of serrated globes,
Friends to the water lilies,
Floats in a sculptured pool.
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It’s that time again.

The sun pales in the west.
What is there about the dusk
...