Looking for a particular road
not one painted in lines
but I know the one
It keeps me searching
long days under the sun
I ask the stars
not to tease and wink
but light a path
To an unclaimed journey
forever seeking the ones
that scream with madness
willing to go the distance
the unbroken ones
that are born to run
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Concrete Roots
I feel like
a tree
that has grown
into a wall
unable to branch out
pushing against blocks
stacked up
T
A
L
L
I'm bound in stone
with heavy roots
so we both can exist
and not have to fall
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
a tree
that has grown
into a wall
unable to branch out
pushing against blocks
stacked up
T
A
L
L
I'm bound in stone
with heavy roots
so we both can exist
and not have to fall
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Shadow of a mountain
A lonely bird
drinks from a
crowded fountain
as the others
begin to fly away
nature has her hand on pause
but she stands down
reflecting off the water
into unpolished eyes
a shadow of one
as big as a mountain
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
drinks from a
crowded fountain
as the others
begin to fly away
nature has her hand on pause
but she stands down
reflecting off the water
into unpolished eyes
a shadow of one
as big as a mountain
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Back then
Filled my mind
with remnants
of back then
an earlier time
A time when clocks
were HEAVY
and broken curfews
were a punishable crime
It's like hitting
a picture with a hammer
Childhood friendships
become scattered
reduced to part-time
Great youth was alive
money was of no important value
wealthy was a pocket full of dimes
It only makes sense
to me now in certain words
The ones that come
to me inside a rhyme
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
with remnants
of back then
an earlier time
A time when clocks
were HEAVY
and broken curfews
were a punishable crime
It's like hitting
a picture with a hammer
Childhood friendships
become scattered
reduced to part-time
Great youth was alive
money was of no important value
wealthy was a pocket full of dimes
It only makes sense
to me now in certain words
The ones that come
to me inside a rhyme
Copyright © 2014 Christopher Lynn Lane
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