A.J. Bland-Fears Poems

When cold, bitter winds blow
Barren trees pregnant with snow
Street lamps offering their muted glow
Traffic meandering at a cautious flow, Such a pleasure to be inside
...

A settling in before the dusk
The quiet hour before the dawn
A slow day without the rush
Timeless setting of a golden sun. Curling up with a good book
...

Being alone
Is a state that some
Desperately free from
Even when full-grown. But why?
...

The slaughterhouse poses motionlessly white and erect
Where her weary hands cleaned the mirrors there
as they shamelessly did reflect,
The woefulness, yet the blessedness of her weekly chore
...