November

November

 

 

Glistening white, unique and alone.

Drifting from high above to here below.

Settling one on another, building up

A landscape of white.

The empty, quiet world awaits

For that soft touch of frozen fingers,

Caressing the tree, the brush, the soil.

White drifting, wafting, floating.

Silence blanketed in muffled chills

Alone, unique, silent, wandering.

Come hushed stillness.

 

By David Corbet

Struggle

A constant struggle,
A tug, a shake, a quake.
A pull this way & then that way.
Up, down, in, out.
A constant struggle
Light & dark blending in
Strobe effects of smoky haze.
Reality is obscured & contrasted.
A constant struggle,
Tear stained smiles & false
Bravado to make it through
The day, fearing the night.
A constant struggle,
To awake each morning
Plod on, trod on, fallen on
Some meaningless soul.
A constant struggle,
To survive the day with
Music & lines on pages as
The only solace.