Two
roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one
less traveled by
The Road
not Taken
Robert Frost
At
the graveyard
Dead leaves and a drizzle
But six feet under
Storm
hitting
On trees and bushes
Autumn creeps away
New
blossoms
Withering yellow leaves
What a strange fall!
White
sailing yacht
Cutting through the sea
But leaves a scar
I
might look
Like a vogon to the fly
Hitchhiking with me
Foliage
of fall
Colours not to last
Flat tire hearse, though
Art
Blakey drumming
The room is filled with sweet sweat
The art
of haiku
Autumn
thunder storm
Rain drumming less and less
Crickets sing
again
Autumn
is lurking
Wind prowling around the oaks
Then shutting the
door
If
only you could
The world would be much better
But no change
so far
Parched
river bed
Women walk to the well
Soothing bird songs
Wind
blows through
The empty spider’s net
Crickets still sing
In
between
The first and the third line
The universe
Autumn
morning
And the long distance runner
Flashing headlamp
Clouds
again
After the draconids
Headlights then
.
No comments:
Post a Comment