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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Travels


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Cherry blossoms in the dark

as the police cars look on

Even in the gloom they gleam

and burst with color

 

The bushes stand at rigid attention

showing barest passive interest

 

The houses stand, great artifacts

that they are, wondrous and ancient

mysteries to all but the few

elder trees who preside over all with

the same sober watchfulness as their

brethren, though without the merriment

of the children

 

The flowers continue to pantomime,

some shows lasting through the night

Though most have closed up shop for

a good night's rest

 

The buildings of the ground have gone dark

but the tenants can be heard through a greater

hustle and bustle than any that happen in the day

 

I drive through it slowly,

taking it all in as my car slowly relaxes

taking it all in through unfocused eyes

simply enjoying the time of laziness

 

The trees look at him and say nothing

Though I swear that dogwood laughed

 

We travel this way for a little while,

we strangers in a strange land,

just enjoying ourselves as everyone else,

the joy of being

 

Then the time comes to wave a fond farewell

even my car seems to look at the receding city

forlornly, but we both know that through too

much moderation comes paralysis

 

So we ride, back on our now black tracks across

the wide, flat plains, pumping, racing for all we

are worth; me, smiling in contentment, worries

pushed aside and my car, favoring his hip every so

often, but driving us on harder than I ever will

for the sheer, ecstatic thrill of it.

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Guest Heart Like A Hole

It flows like a poem, but it tells a story - what my Cr. Wr. teacher likes to call a narrative poem. But whatever name we shall give it, it is quite well-written and has a razor-edge precision to its imagery. In short, I greatly enjoyed the piece.

 

~Porcelain

"Heart Like A Hole"

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