Keith R. Mansfield

We feel the stares
Of piercing eyes.
The burning glares
In righteous guise.
...

What do you see,
in twisted sight?
Where right is wrong
and wrong is right.
...

When a
futures hopes
no longer flower,
...

We are the lost
broke and defeated
a soul the cost
of history repeated.
...

Sobs,
thunder claps forewarning
of father's furry,
usher in the tears
...

Color me red,
branded a savage,
my trail of tears
still looms long.
...

Poetry lives;
in a sweet melody,
flowing, like silk
across a woman's curves.
...

Gracefully melodic;
rhythms of nature,
of the written word,
of music and motion
...

Music,
like smoke,
melodies drift
on the air,
...