Author: Lila C

I’m from blazing sun
Sweet smoke of barbeque
Meals served family style
Grandma’s peach cobbler.

I’m from a bridge of bats
Who escape at dusk
Truth lies in darkness
Free until the return of dawn.

I’m from live music that stirs the soul
Breathe in the colorful rhythm
Exhale your troubles
When we sing, we are one.

I’m from blood that runs burnt orange
Reminiscent of fire and flames
Souls tied together with a common identity
We never burn out.

But I’m also from guns
Who deliver harsh ultimatums
Gray and lifeless and cold
Kids who fear for their lives.

I’m from humans who sleep on the street
Figures shivering in the night
Nothing is promised
Homeless, not harmful.

I’m from danger in darkness
Head down, do not reply
Be home by sundown
Bats fly free, why can’t I?

I’m from the home of the brave
I’m from angst and sorrow—an open cry
They say I’m from the land of the free
But they also lie.

One thing I can always come back to,
A most loyal friend.
Nothing I’d rather do,
Until my life’s end.

Cold wind whipping my face,
In the mountain up high.
A most beautiful place,
Evergreens and the sky.

My board I am riding,
Shooting down the mountain,
On my heel and toe sliding,
Snow sprays like a fountain.

It is my annual reward,
The same mountain year after year,
I never get bored,
A place I hold dear.

Where the birds fly south for the winter,
Where the stones and paths erode,
Where the sun meets the peak of the mountains,
That’s where you’ll find That Old Road.

Tucked away within the winding fields,
Moving along with the river’s flow,
A long path stretches for an endless time,
That’s the road I’ve come to know.

It lies hidden within the rocky mountains,
Its life is written with grooves and cracks,
Its paint faded and rubbed off with the test of time,
Only a small sign marks the end of the track.
The sign reads: “You are home,” in weathered paint.
A sentiment to the weary traveler
Who has blindly followed all this way.
Then the road will end and so will your journey,
There at the edge is where you will stay.

So perhaps it is best to avoid the path,
Unless you truly wish to know.
Often the journey is not as it seems
Following That Old Road.

Basking in the sun on the porch where I lay
My owners are gone so I am left at home
The still-shaky air makes me feel alone
The sun disappears over the mountain marking a new day
Just being a dog I don’t have a lot to say
To fill my time I chew on a bone
The once-kept yard now overgrown
Day’s turn into months, do I stay?

I think my owners are gone for good
Does this mean I was not enough for thee
I hope I have misunderstood
Why did they abandon me?

Out of all the things we could have done, laying there in the sun.
Out of all the lies we told ourselves, this shouldn’t have been one.
We could have laughed and cried and never died, whilst laying in the sun.
I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it’s true.
While I am not with you I do not know what to do.

Out of all the things I could have done, that was way too far.
I felt cold and dead, watching you crash and burn in that car.
I know you never really felt the same.
I wish you could know that I take all the blame.

Out of all the things I never did, I wish I had told you.
“The brakes don’t work, stay with me,
darling I love you”.

I slither I slide,
Basking in the sun, I’m warm and dry.
Sleeping in the sun, I shed my skin,
My skin is soft.
My scales are like stars,
They are like shining shards.
Somethings loud, it’s a mouse.
I’m as quiet as a crocodile,
I used my lifestyle.
I swallow that mouse,
Now I’m delighted.
As I enjoy my meal,
I shake to a sudden feel.
It is the trotting of the cattle.
The cattle were like declaring battle.
I knew I had to rattle.
They knew I had my venom,
I knew they were going to volt,
And it resulted in no fail.

Ornament on a Tree, watching all 3, opening gifts, as the day cycle rifts. as the day goes on, the moon turns on, when night is here, there is nothing left to hear.

White covers every surface,
blanket tucking me in,
cold and comforting safe and warm.
Nothing disturbs my peace,
until.. my squirrel resident.
Trees support them, they support us,
He curls in tight,
and keeps me warm,
in bed he rests, goodnight friend.
All is grey white,
the air is frozen,
A dark winter is coming soon.
when branches turn barren ,
it`s hard to remember,
that our forest shall bloom again.

This poem is about a football that is being th

Ro

Wn
After i th
Ro n

W the football it hit a guy in his dome

And when he gets back up from a fall his world seems to s i

P
And then after a few minutes he can see clearly again.

loving someone is a mind game
either you lose or lose
winning is no option
that’s why pets exist