Author: Kyle Edwards

STUNG by the sight

SHAPE of a child

like QUAIL in a bush

BLURT forth in a noisy life

BLAST from car’s bass rattles my

SKULL. Kids these days.

VAUNT the good old days when youth paid

LIEGE to their elders, like I did. Oh wait…

GRASS overgrown, windows drawn, a

BELCH from within all that notifies the

CROWD that someone still leaves here,

SHOWN to be a lonely man with lonesome ways.

WIDER view will

AWAIT the one who bears his

CROSS in mundane, boring,

MEATY ways.

SKIMP on the dessert,

GLEAN a few more years, the

PAYEE for our choices keeps careful accounts.

BRAVO to me for stopping at one donut.

HONEY, I don’t mean to be a

CYNIC, and I don’t want to

DAUNT you, but you can’t just

CHIRP at the birds and expect them to obey you.

TOOTH ache getting worse, I
SKULK to the dentist, hoping for a
BRISK visit, but no, they
SLOSH my mouth with water and start drilling.

ETHIC of the cross treats friend and enemy

ALIKE, which is to love, as the

BIRTH, parables, miracles of the one

SLAIN showed, turning enemy into friend.

CHEST heaving, side stitching

SHRUB tromping, water chugging:

CREDO of outdoorsy exercise

BELOW my comfort preference.

FALSE hopes without dying daily,

LUSTY instants without life pledges,

EMPTY words without normal conversations,

FLESH without soul.