a poem

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash.

In the tranquil easy morning,
The sweet sound of falling rain,
The dim and mellow shadow,
Wash away the pain,

The sun will be out tomorrow,
Dry up the mess that was made,
Another day to the roaring crowds,
To join in the parade.

But today in the dreary hue,
My time to reflect,
A little self improvement,
with a dash of self respect.

A minute with my coffee,
To contemplate the fast,
broken eggs and grits du jour,
The creamy rich contrast.

The caress of keyboard,
As I go about my task,
What shall I contemplate today,
This moment or my past…

Redemption is not straight and narrow

Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash.

Redemption is not straight and narrow,
morality the compass always broke,
integrity the wisp of nursery,
the words on which we choke.

What is right and wrong,
the lines too vague to discern,
the boundaries have all but crumble,
and every portal is burned.

War just the appetizers,
For a scene too well rehearsed,
followed by six more sins,
before our just desserts.

When faith must be tangible,
when forgiveness too rich and rare,
religion is a story book,
for a god whose never there.

So where do we find answers,
in the rubble and ruin of it all,
when what’s left…

Benchmark, a poem

Photo by Michael Longmire on Unsplash.

In the stillness, comes yesterday,
All the wonder of my youth,
And I ponder how I’m alive today,
Learn my lessons, found my truth.

All the beauty that once I held,
Goes slipping through my hands,
Easily between my fingers,
Like the finest shifting sands.

If humans get more than one life,
A chance to try again,
What lessons have I learned this time,
Or does legacy simply end?

Faced death so often in my youth,
We got to know each other well,
As familiar as a lovers touch,
But to never kiss and tell.

If youth…


Photo by Matt Botsford on Unsplash.

Fine is not an answer,
Nor means your doing well,
It’s casual acceptance,
It’s conceptually hell.

It’s the word you say,
Instead of how you feel,
The blanket on your memory
So it never will seem too real.

Fine is the un-answer,
It is the preverbal; fill in the blank
When reality is hard to bare,
The lifeboat has been sank.

The word when all words fail you,
The curtain to hide the scars,
The void of space grows inside you,
Without sun or stars.

Fine is mediocre,
Fine is boring bland,
It’s refusing sexual relations,
Because you got two hands…


Photo by Ivan Aleksic on Unsplash.

Pull along the threads
Frayed, I come unraveled.
Desperate for some distance,
But hurts too much to travel.

When even feet away,
Feels like miles apart,
And yet you treat me like tissues,
My open, willing heart.

Pick me up the weekend,
Months before your return,
I should have razed the Earth,
Bridges all get burned,

And yet I stand here waiting,
The child wanting attention,
And understand when out of sight,
There is no thought or mention.

I scream, I plead, the tantrums
All so you will grant me the kiss,
All the while understanding,
I’m worth more than this…


Photo by Kyle Cottrell on Unsplash.

They called me asshole,
You didn’t deny,
They called me a bitch,
And you just comply,

They said I was ugly,
You nodded your head,
Then took it personally
When denied in my bed.

I needed a hero,
But what I got instead,
Was spineless and cowardice,
Worry and dread.

For years I was your shield,
I stood by your side,
While you sought protection,
In my shadow you hide.

So when you told me the news,
Of all they had said,
You just idly listened,
Bowing your head,

No protest, no fury,
No protection, no rage,
Just sat back and listened,

a poem

Photo by Kevin Jarrett on Unsplash.

Blinding lights upon the stage,
The curtain tightly drawn,
And the stage lights burn so bright,
Just like the waking dawn,

The orchestra is playing,
The music gaining mass,
With rising tempo, urgency,
Each breath feels like a gasp.

I see my hands are trembling,
The nerves like piano strings,
And mind question what could go wrong,
At least a million things,

At last, too soon the curtain parts,
There I stand alone,
God, it feels a lifetime ago,
“Oh I see you’ve grown,”

I joke and tease those present,
Make light of my trespass,
Or perhaps my vacancy,
Assure that it wont…

Photo by Artem Kovalev on Unsplash

a free-verse poem

I’ve walked runways in Miami,
Yet I am ugly

I’ve lost over eighty pounds
Yet I am fat

No one can guess my age,
And yet I’m too old.

Equality is just a notion,
A good idea,
But seldom practiced in a community
That delights in tearing each other down.

No, I did not ask for this path,
This road.

I grew up in a generation,
Where I’m the abomination,
The freak, unnatural.

Unloved by God,
Unloved by the common man,
Rejected by my own community
As I’ve lost my shine,

Too ugly
Too fat,
Too old…

These words fall…

Photo by Diane Helentjaris on Unsplash.


Treated like a penny,
There between your feet,
Left upon the asphalt
To lay on concrete heat.

Seen as without value,
Ignored and left there,
So I stay here waiting,
For someone to care.

Someone see my value,
Why would you resent
That I’m not worthy to pick up
Not worthy to be spent.

And yet you find in me favor,
The lost and lonely cup,
Thrown into the pot when
You do not have enough.

Find me on the sidewalk,
Face up to the sun,
Someone found some value,
As though I’m the only one.

He called me lucky,

Photo by Michal Hlaváč on Unsplash.

a poem,

Alas, my search is fruitless,
Just withered on the vine,
Left till ancient, rotted,
Nothing left to find.

Once fresh, and whole,
Left for far too long,
Never quite right for anyone,
Till my shine was gone.

No discount or promotion,
No deals that could be made,
Slowed anyone down to look at me,
I just watched the parade.

Marked down many times,
Even tried to give me away,
And still nobody wanted me,
Depression and dismay.

Till finally the day would come,
When my time at last had past,
And removed and discarded,
I was tossed into the trash…

D. Wyn Price

Poet, published writer, artist Native to NC, enjoying coastal living. Decent human being. Grateful. Dwindsorprice@yahoo.com Windsorstudios@wordpress.com

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