Transitional Poetry

Asphalt

Asphalt is used to build streets and roads that to me seem to run Nowhere. Like being homeless and different.

People seem to think just because you’re homeless and different Your life is like an asphalt road running all over the place and Yet not going anywhere important.

The road is only useful if you need to get somewhere that you Need to get to. Whereas the homeless and those that are different People, "Look at them. They will never make anything of them- Selves because if they cared enough they would have a job and a Home of their own."

The only thing I can say is that I am still human and I do have Feelings like everybody else. I will end up on top and prove to Them that this homeless and different person made it after all.

Larry Throm

Things I Would Like

My own place
Out of debt
My own business
Not there yet
My own truck
Maybe a car
To be my own boss
Seems so far
But most of all people to quit
Bellyaching, complaining, judging
Measuring about how I eat, what
I eat, way I dress, and what
Why, how, I do things.
Dusty Harpole

Untitled

No money for bus fare. Guess I’ll have to walk today. There Has been a heat advisory, so I am told. So I’ll proceed with Caution to accomplish my goal.

I start out early on my task for the day.

I’ll say a little prayer as I start out on my way. God give me the Strength to make another day. Lord bring me closer so this Nightmare may end.

Interrupted from my thoughts by a voice that says, "You’ve Got five minutes, gentlemen, to be on your way." So I’ll grab Me a sandwich and doughnut on my way out the door.

I’ll continue to pray as I press on my way. Courage will Guide my footsteps. Faith is my path. Though the eyes of Wisdom I can see my way.

Ken Coleman

Untitled

I am the cold. I was born on top of the world.
I spin and wail.
I rush and twist, chasing my tail.
I blow off hats and make leaves scatter.
I make hands ached and teeth clatter.
In the warm summer months I’m hard to remember.
But you’ll feel my chill come the month of December.

I’m quiet until I’m punished by the wind.
I’m good friends with snow and ice.
We visit many places and people always hide from us.
But they always seem to want us around for Christmas.

I am not compatible with many animals.
Only the hardiest of souls play with me.
Sometimes a person drinks too much and
Wants to spend the night with me.
I tickle his nose and then take his life.

Ken Compton