William Kofoed

Not all flowers do look nice

Not all flowers do smell good
...

The days are growing longer, warmer
The snows are less often, lighter
Soon the storms will turn to rain
And no longer will I need to plow
...

How can I teach you to see
the blue of the sky in a hummingbird egg
born to fly as the color does show
or here's the ocean waves
...

Thundering roar turns into scream
as it simply can give no more
push it on a little more
as every bit of thrill obtained
...

Bitter night
seventeen degrees
all is covered
in frozen white
...

Auburn hair in long waves falls
bright sunlight glistens red highlights
tight ringlet of curls on forehead found
all flows lightly upon the breeze
...

I sit and think of
programs that
assign values to
words that are wrote
...

Quarter moon shines down
in dark summer night sky
the cloud slowly go by
in gentle warm breeze
...

Frigid white cloud of breath is formed
in cold black darkness at mountains feet
blows away on cool biting wind
as I wait for bright breaking Dawn
...

Hard bright stars
in frozen black sky
pin points of color
so far away
...

harsh cold wind howls
steel gray clouds low over head
racing quickly torn to shreds
merging coldly into the sea
...

Sitting in the parking lot
in my truck just wondering
wondering what this day I'll see
my coworkers and what they'll be
...

high up in the cold black night sky
sharp white light spears through the sky
racing towards us coming down
a quiet rushing of whispering sound
...

Soft black leather
tight formfitting
curving about you
holding you firm
...

Lying in the predawn light
underneath black empty sky
chill wind blowing across bare skin
feeling a desperate need to flee
...

high white clouds ride the sky
beneath bright arching blue
bitter cold wind blowing through
to my flesh and cloth to thin
...

And as I walk behind the crowd
burden by the memory of my sins
red drops of mud did I see
of the dust in the blood he shed
...

When I first saw it
in the dark corner there
where none would see it
hidden away from sight
...

In the twilight of the setting sun
cold wind stirrers the whispering leaves
like the whispering of have heard voices
speaking of echoes of things now faded
...

Long green grasses stir in the gentle breeze
bright summer sun beats down upon them
cool fragrant scent rises up into the air
carried across the land in the gentle breeze
...