Preston Simmons

Over the hills
And across the sand
The shepherds rise,
Across the desert land.
...

I look forward into the future,
Of what I will be like in seventy years.
I won't speak about what society will be like,
That's for you to discover.
...

The Montreal Tunnel

Iron whispers on steel,
And everything else
...

White rock on innocent sand
supported me
as I carefully walked
towards the rushed life.
...

Voices echoed through the hills,
Voices I know, including my own.
Our bike tires buzzed
along the dusty trails, dust saved for dusk
...

We have traded the ancient ways
Of stone and papyrus sheets
For tablets of glass,
And buildings of steel.
...

Poetry carries new knowledge by a handle
To the front lines
Of our minds.
Some people grab that handle
...

I left my home
Without my devices,
Finally walking with the focus
Of where I'm going,
...

Gone forever,
Washed away in the midnight wind.
Safely wrapped in darkness,
Entangled in mystery.
...

A society among the trees
Dwelling below the white-tipped pines.
In the fiercest winter man has ever seen.
A depressing sight,
...

Through the hollow mountains
The whisperings of winter are heard.
Beyond the mounted cold
Lies a cottage against the stone.
...

Nightfall falls before my face
As I stand in a bustling lot.
The cars pass
My shadowed frame,
...

The man is discovered
At the doorstep of death,
The warden wanders by.
Courage may be found
...

Magnificent beacon of the sky,
What price can I pay
To see you wake?
Would you like
...

I am striving to learn the significance
Of the dream you had.
You walked that fine line to somewhere
The one we all have walked.
...

Clouds descend through winter's breath
To conceal the earth below.
They appear to men
In an alternate form
...

I sit by myself
In a field
Far away.
nothing invades my space
...

I sit in the darkest corner of my home,
Because that is where poetry has been placed
By society.
I put every letter of my poetry in a vase,
...

Sleep took me by the hand
And led me to the water.
When I arrived to the river,
Sleep released his grip
...

We learn to love unexpectedthings
And It makes us more effective.
We walk the rows of this fruitful valley
And dig what is engraved
...