Adam Holmes Poems

Holding hands, gazing at stars
Kissing, cuddling in backseats of cars
When the sun catches the moon
We will be there
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People question me about my content
“You never write about the beautiful things”
Everything is grim
Everything is ugly
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Why are the lights turned out?
What is it we are doing here?
Where did I lose my reason?
Who are you past the blur?
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The sinner sins
The preacher preaches
One thing is certain
Preaching won’t seize sinning
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Skipping stones
Rolling heads
Falling stars
Unmade beds
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Roses are red
Violets are blue
These rhymes make no sense
But sound good they do
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Yellow clad cabby drive for miles
Twelve hours driving, put a roof on his head
Left home a half world away
To find himself traveling all day
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From mountains of love
To valleys of despair
We make the trek
Forget what we see along the way
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Ears listen for noise
Lungs gasp for breath
Eyes search for sight
Hands feel for touch
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Smoke clouds circle thought
I need this fix, nothing else
Once upon a dream I was a champion
Two years and twenty pounds later…
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