Kenneth has a taste for abstract/prose poetry as well as the comical side of life. 23-years of writing for a newspaper has served him well.
The cold rain slowly dripping in hypnotic time
I sit frozen, wet, dead wishes, rusty dreams, and bloody woes.
I look to be judged by nameless people, no breath or rhyme.
I’ve felt their fists, tongues, and merciless blows, their merciless blows.
Oh for that one dream that I dreamed of only a year back
For a crust, a drop of watered wine
To sit, to look intently with women of knowing no lack.
They scoff, they sigh, and lie to the soul of a life not mine.
Ending life with a stoic look, a prayerful wish of just to go
Just to go; if that be a prayer God would honor true, so true
He could say why or maybe a no, I cannot tell His breezes to blow.
Death sits hear me on a bench so wet, my coat is wet, the sky is blue.
© 2020 Kenneth Avery