a poem in remembrance

Photo Courtesy of Author

The sky is falling with heaps of debris

The arms, the legs, the smoke I see

Papers strewn, glide on twinkling fire

People leap to escape from the dire

Hell that was unseen in the midst of our ire.

Be the heroes that move with selfless pride

Scale the steps in your pachyderm hide

No end in sight yet you’ll save who you can

Never a day where we had a plan

To catch in our arms the falling man.

The falling man, the falling man

Never a day where we had a plan

To drag…


prose

Photo Courtesy of Author

I ask of you all, to be as you dream; to be as you wonder and become what you love. A passion articulated and expressed with exuberance, what you are without critique, every waking day, a movement in a concerto; an act of a play; the breath that comes with an open eye at the dawn of your life. To be as yourself is the motive to exist; to be that tile which guides a ballerina; to be that key which completes Clair De Lune; what gust blows through rye and carries seed to its fertile soil. The whole…


a poem for the old west

Photo Courtesy of Author

Casket displayed, open in the street

Outlaw killed and they cut off his feet

No tolerance when they have their solution

A bullet to the brain is their stark conclusion

Gold from Wells Fargo, coach driver never saw a thing

Lock him up with torture to make him sing

Mister Walters, you let them down that aisle

They’ll be coming for you in a little while

Butch and Sundance cut out their losses

Cast in smoke, nailed to gunpowder crosses

Scarborough took Selman who took Hardin in time

Now George Scarborough has you in…


a poem

Photo Courtesy of Author

I’m in the woods

I’m up the trees

I’m anywhere I want to be.

I’m under the porch

I’m beneath the bed

I’m anywhere I can fit my head.

I’m west of Alberta

I’m east of LA

I’m anywhere north of Francisco Bay.

I’m outside the fence

I’m down rusty pipes

I’m anywhere with lavender stripes.

I’m above tall spires

I’m over park benches

I’m anywhere other than the trenches.

I’m a mile from Tulsa

I’m a foot from Timbuktu

I’m anywhere with a perfect view.

I’m a Géglesnoup that is

I’m fuzzy while small

I’m green when…

N.S. Simko

Poetry, prose, short stories, and experimentations. Whatever distracts me from working on my novel.

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