Men walk in pairs on the concrete trail with
scuffed steel-toed boots and warn-out soles, drab
green shirts and khaki pants with brown tops.
In grey sweats and shorts they share dull tales and
impractical plans, their silver or flecked manes and
rough long beards move with each step and word.
Some sport colorless athletic shoes or brown
hiking boots and grey knit hats no matter the
weather, season or climate.
The flowers and leaves change as the seasons
pass but the scene remains colorless and
mundane without hope or anticipation of change.
The distant freedom may bring color but until
Then, color stays beyond reach, untouched by
the colorless men who walk together every day.
by Bob Shallenberger
The poet Bob Shallenberger
Disconnected Global Elite:
they don’t need
solar panels on their shacks!
The sun won’t feed the
billion people who go to bed
hungry every night, the
masses of starving children
dying from contamination,
devoid of vaccinations,
treatment and …
I started “Eric Liddell: Pure Gold” by David McCasland and just couldn’t put it down It’s the story of the Scottish/British Olympic sprinter from the 30’s who inspired the movie “Chariots …
This laugh-out-loud book is a true account of the author’s quest for true manliness in time for his newborn son’s arrival. A fellow inmate lent it to me to read …
“In The Garden of Beasts” by Erik Larson is a true story of U. S. Ambassador Dodd’s time before and during the Nazi takeover of Germany. It truly is a …
striped by homespun bands,
tousled and muddled from the
resilient north plains wind.
Long beards tattered,
peppered white and gray.
Tattooed skin, red
from the Dakota sun.
Bifocals plastic, thick and brown.
Tee shirts faded mauve and …
Sweat trickles beneath a black
shirt, untucked, vintage, and
well-worn for years with
guests and substitutes always
beside the other ones.
Magnetic beats echo long
side by side, above at back,
throbbing tempos call out the
middle faithful, …
Homes stripped from once proud families by
government-funded, too-big-to-fail banks with
cash reserves the size of third world regimes.
Their futures ripped away without consideration or
compassion, devoid of support from multi-termed
elected pen pushers …
The waves shimmer under the
fading moon as the ocean
starts its day just before its dawn.
Glowing shades of turquoise, calm,
bright and clear, with waves expanding, the
sun climbs above the horizon beyond …
Lime green zoot,
masked, vest flowing loose atop
white saddles bony, shored at the base.
Silver chain spinning watch on end,
broad brim resting low on its
gaunt brow, paltry features
gazing, staring, smirking,
scheming as …
Gravel hides on the winding asphalt
as the curve looms innocent.
Signs stream together,
red and orange blur without warning.
Rubber clenches, grasps,
releases and repeats —
Tracks swirling behind,
the striking metal skates in rhythm.
Solar Shacks© By Bob Shallenberger
“Eric Liddell: Pure Gold” by David McCasland
“In The Garden of Beasts” by Erik
The Merry-Go-Round© by Bob Shallenberger
Served Up© By Bob Shallenberger
The Silence of Stoke© By Bob Shallenberger