Poems Submitted by Our Readers

the search begins in the forest of old
a place of high winds and blistering cold.
a time when animals were the claim to horde of trees,
i reason to fear them, and quiver down on your knees.

the search resumes in a castle of stone
where ghosts will linger in the hallways alone.
screams, wails and sounds of pain
are all that from this time, shall ever remain.

the search shall end in the town of more
the home of money and the streets of whore.
the streets have dirt no man could
pathom. the dirt only more men touch they would.

the search has ended and the results are in.
we found nothing, such is life within....

the boX 



Mark Rivas