Mark E. Byrne
Written Word 
By M. Edward Byrne

Riding east with the wind, across the Wyoming grass
Two days out of the bitterroot mountain pass
It is cold and snow is falling up on my head
My side still aches from the burning lead
The lights on a town way off to my right
My run from the law tracks my plight
The sheriff’s daughter was to be my wife
I caught her cheating and took her life.


They came in wearing black
Fifteen children will not be back
Two-trenchcoat mafia did attack
A Colorado school in the back
It was a well planned there was no slack
When they were done to avoid the flack
They took their own lives after the attack.
© 1999 M. Edward Byrne

The Park
By M. Edward Byrne
I rose up off the ground
And noticed I was still laid down
Where were my clothes
And why was in such a pose
Blood had flowed from my nose
A woman appeared she was so near
She said a man brought her here
He told her all she wanted to hear
She has been here over a year

Van Gogh splattered paint
Poe wrote of the crow
Images bold not faint
Words both dark and low
Colour that hid the pain
Stories that moved the heart
People shown with life's strain
Horror seemed to fit the part
The artist ended very poor
The poet in the gutter never more

© M. Edward Byrne 2010


They yell police and crash the door
It is dark sound of feet on the floor
They search each room they look for more
If no one’s home they will not score
Paperwork is all that’s left what a bore
No one checked the number on the door!
© M. Edward Byrne 2011

Awaken to a spider!
By Mark Byrne
I have looked for your spider
I have looked all around
I have looked up above and
Have looked on the ground
Could it be you were dreaming
For no spider was found?

Mark E. Byrne © 2019