Regret: the silent killer, if you let it take the wheel.

“Road Trip”

Rusty dusty voice
Crackling through
The radio waves
Frequency attuned to
Warbling wayward winds
Shaking melodies
Rattling the passenger
To and fro

Back and forth
Weaving over the line
Cigarette dangling
Desiccated wrist
Hangman’s grip

Rebellious regret
Long since broke free
From this old man’s
Precious pipedream

Unrestricted by
The open road

Destination unknown

© Jane Bled

Sometime in 2016




About Jane Bled

Human. Happy in my solitude. Free of expectations. Awakening. Light side: love, peace, art. Dark side: ****** I despise the word 'follower'. It calls to mind lemmings, sheep, cults, etc. Here to exhibit my art -- not aiming to gain a flock of seagulls that mournfully cry out my name as they fail to reach me.


All Things Jane Bled, Free, Poetry, Writing