War road side

There underneath the orange skies and blazing red hot sun,
the horses pounded in thousands toward the distant castle walls,
the bugles blowing and war cries hollering, in a frenzy they run,

arrows pierced, canons blasted and everywhere some dead soldier falls,
defying certain death they near and never waver the approach to the goal,
they were trained in to bravery and in such madness unheard fear’s calls,

nearer, clearer, yet blurred by the pace they engulf battle field whole,
not here to tarry and rule but to rape, pillage, plunder and loot,
a savage race feared by all, civilised kingdoms of yore their watering hole,

fierce nomads never thirsting for home they roamed thus without root,
the castle gate gave way to their hounding and in columns moved inside,
violent without kind bone, dragged man and woman, stamped with boot,

from those times brutal and heartless to the modern space age ride,
man unchanged and mighty take pleasure in suffering folks of road side.

I stand at the edge

I stand at the edge of the vehicle whirring busy wide road,
what a wild chasm for insecure unconfident me to cross,
yet cross it I must to reach back to my humble abode;

I lit a cigarette, a sign of rebellion, to give courage as I pass,
vehicles to the left of me, vehicles to the right of me, thundered,
lost in a strange city alone, a small town man, I was at loss;

crossing road a trifle for those here, how they do it I wondered,
was it practice, necessity propelling them to master the art,
I was afraid and stuck all alone, I’ve tried before and blundered;

the fast busy road, obstacle to aims of shy, slow me, that fought,
fought with courage, fortitude and craziness to reach the other side,
where all will be well, even if for a while, before other roads caught;

what worst could happen, I might lose life and limb in this ride,
with wisdom came courage yet stuck without help on this road side.

The Roads are lit

The roads are lit wayfarer lost inside,

your strides seem purposed, flurried, what a lie,

the roads diverge that is their nature, tied

to take you where you want to go and try;

a newer life beckons but you want old,

forgot the road that brought your shy self here,

then why do fools like you come out alone,

keep walking steady, you are somewhere near,

for stop and you’ll sure rot to tired old crone;

your journeys soon will come to weakly end,

seek greener pastures wild before that then,

oh, your weak will shall not allow to bend,

hear me, you walk any road as you see fit,

for each is splendid, filled with joy and wit. 

(A english sonnet written in strict iambic pentameter and rhyme scheme.)