EDGAR DAVIES - POEMS

​58 y/o Poet originally raised on the Pacific Ocean Beaches of Oregon in the 70's now enjoys his life with his wife and two rescue cats in the desert of Boise ID. A poet who loves to humor or to take his readers on a very soul searching journey exploring life's experiences and the old fashioned not-so-technical world that surrounds him.

                             This wretched weather
 
They curse the creation of this living hell.
Mid summer they burn.
Mid winter they freeze.
Damn Him, they shout,
for this torment,
for this lack of water.
When does it end,
or when do You end it.
 
 
  
                                            The guns
 
Valley Freeway,
pass me by,
let me roll on
toward Avocado's on high.
Bear me a southern California Sunday.
Let me run,
and run and run,
far, far away,
north of the
gangster's gun.
 
 
 
                                              Fire Fight
 
Sun up over sage brush hill.
Redness to the sky eastward.
Flames quiet, crews toil,
pulling down fuels,
exposing bare earth,
doing all they can-
to prevent fire's further fury.
 
 
 
 
                                   Battle aligned spirits
 
It's crazy how people
pop into our lives.
Mysterious at best,
foretold at least.
A second passing
from an earlier time,
same place, unmeant
spirits now realigned.
 
 
 
 
                                        War
 
Camouflaged covering,
bullet burned threads show,
blood trickles, begins to form scabs,
exposed flesh stings, burns,
shock, in and out of consciousness.
To survive;
This is the real war,
the result of combat.