Penning Out Frivolous Odes

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Penning out frivolous odes
Words creating a comforting feeling
An itch that needs to be remedied
Turning bland into rather appealing
It’s not complicated to be good
If you can fathom what I mean
The distractions tend to be mirages
Ghosts preventing you from being clean

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Perfectly Lined Rows Of Trees

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Perfectly lined rows of trees
Our escape from the mundane
Shaking away tilted visions
Of a ghostly morning train
Remembering her latent beauty
No place for such fickle motions
Return to living your current life
Set gently against the Atlantic Ocean

Ocean Force Winds

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Crisp ocean force winds

Gentle fresh citrus scent

Lost upon the eternal sea

Forgot where beauty went

A treatise of delicate love

Evidence of a ghost

Smile your sweet smile

I’ve left for the coast

Sound of muted voices

She’s a little too cute

Allowing no more secrets

Down through my roots