Literary Yard

Search for meaning

‘Wheels of Reinvention’ and other poems

By: Wayne Russell

Wheels of Reinvention

Another rainy night,
driving in darkness
illuminated only by
pale headlights.
In the rearview mirror,
the past evaporates,
right before my eyes.
The hurts and traumas,
now scatter like leafy
memories, dead to the
Tonight, I’m leaving it
all behind, in ghostly
plumes of exhaust.
Tonight, I ramble on
upon slick roads of
isolation, riding upon
the wheels of reinvention.

Get the Balance Right

They say silence is golden,
but for some it erodes the
some are alone, all the time,
it’s not a good thing.
Solitude is only good in small
increments, strike the irons of
hopefully we’ll get it right, some
how, some day.
We’re pack animals, needing
the bare essentials in which
to survive.
Our necessities-
Sustainable Temperature
And I have seen the lonely die
prematurely and so on this list
would definitely go-
It’s not good to be alone all
the time.

War Dance

Rain toppling down
the red eyes of a grey dragon
dictates our mood
underneath your sad hours
of doom-laden lament
crow bleak black
lamppost jostle
branches of trees outstretched
and bare
rubbing salt into the wound
asphyxiation via smog terror
viper poised and possessed
vicious sharp fanged strike
thunderstorm is lashing out
the warriors of the sky
pound their drums
there is no escape.

Cradle of Time (memories fade)

The old lay dead, in the cradle
of time, death and insanity
cast out shuttered dreams.

Salt air and somber waves
brush through even darker

This love had passed through
rusted gates of eternity, this
was our lives, 20 year’s wounded,
warriors locked in a stalemate.

Knocked back by a synthesis,
calibrated by cold hands, I
watched it all unfold, in the slow
dawning of a tear stained morning.


Springtime Where Are You?

The skies appear dull
and lifeless today
grey on grey
birds making a cameo
but decide
that it’s still too cold
out to sing their songs
of Springtime
it’s still too soon for
depressions veil to be
lifted and cast aside
it’s too soon for life to return
and for the trees to exhale
their bright green foliage
and for the gardens to bloom
their radiant blossoms
it’s still too soon to live again
basking in the warmth of
that gold medallion sunshine.


Wayne Russell is a creative jack of all trades, master of none. Poet, rhythm guitar player, singer, artist, photographer, and author of the poetry books “Where Angels Fear” via Guerilla Genius Press, and the newly released “Splinter of the Moon” via Silver Bow Publishing, they are both available for purchase on Amazon.

Leave a Reply

Related Posts