Arthur Vaso Poems

I sit at the table
An old man, an old table
The candle is old
The bread is moldy
...

There are no words
Where the hunter lays

There are no words
...

As I drove to work one day
In amazement a pink elephant crossed my way
I was shocked to see her in the middle of town
With bright purple spots and wandering around
...

Pains me
pretty leaves
regrettable memories
wilted golden pathways
...

The most broken of things
becomes art

if you become lonely
...

Chained in memories
wrists too weak
to untie my mind
the smell of slaughter
...

Finally caught
in broad Daylight
he recorded his atrocities
laughing at the world
...

One said lovely and nice
the other rushed to share it
I wanted to save humanity
if only inside the poem
...