Smoky Hoss Poems

Who this very day can hold,
and keep from getting old?
The beauty of memories are born in grace,
of time and place,
...

Looking for the right sound
like the purity of A.M. after midnight,
when road and wind hum along
and the heart beats just right-
...

Wind howling down
Through the graveyard street
Same old song of the same old ghost
Fleeing in reckless retreat-
...

Where the field is bare
where the seed is sowed
down by the river
out beside the road
...

I reach low into the world
upon which I trod
take a handful of dirt,
ponder it closely
...

At sunrise she walked up to a police officer and cautiously asked, " Sir, I'm looking for the train station, to leave this disheartening place, do you know the way? "
The large, stoic cop looked upon her and replied, " You ask me about the Way. I answer you: you know the way, it's written upon the heart."
With that, he was gone.
She felt the fog of uncertainty. The early morning mist covered all seen.
...

I knealt low.
Getting a better look.
Wanting to pick it up, yet
feeling unworthy.
...

I've been fishing
sitting on this river bank all day,
I should be working
but I just don't see it that way -
...

Mornings arrive
like a train emerging from a long, dark tunnel;
the light is still on
but quickly becomes unnoticeable-
...

Somewhere it is written,
like the setting sun,
all shall die
and time must be done -
...