One
He robbed and whored
and spent himself in vain.
After the rain
he sang a broken chord.
The packrats hoard
their treasure in a vein.
The rodents reign
each time our heart is cored.
The youthful horde
tore down the weathervane,
then dropped the rein
and strangled on the cord.
Two
A deadly site
you'd say if you were there,
but that is where
the dead perform their rite.
The gift of sight
is in the eyes and they're
so proud to wear
their colors as their right.
After I cite
my thoughts on paper, their
shaper, aware
of what I mean, I write.
Three
That crew of four
without an oar
is tied to the pier
since it might pour.
He scratches for
a golden ore.
He claims it will appear
in the earth's pore.
One sits before
the other, or
after. A genuine peer
rebuilds rapport.