Should I stay?

Or should I go?

The island calls to me.

It whispers my name.

The bridge sighs.

It weeps for me.

I will walk across.

It wobbles to and fro.

I hold tight to the ropes.

One step gives way.

So does the next.

The sides unravel.

It hangs by strings.

I can’t go back.

Or forward.

Time stands still.

Then I’m falling.

Water so cold.

Hits my face hard.

Silence takes it turn.

Water covers the rest.




Take me into the jungle.

Across the bamboo bridge.

To where it’s hot and humid.

And exotic creatures come to life.

Branches hit me in the face.

Bugs bite my hands and legs.

Greenery attempts to bury me.

But this is the life I want to live.


Wave Breaking Beneath the Pier, Folly Beach, SC

© Doug Hickok  All Rights Reserved




It is here.

A force to be reckoned.

Growing by the second.

Thrashing under the bridge.

Leaving death in its wake.

Leave me be.

My dying wish isn’t

to be consumed by the sea.


The river flows black in the night.
People jostle me to stand by the railing.
I first see the colors.
Hot glows of red, orange, yellow.
Then I hear the explosion.
Loud and deafening. 
My ears begin to ring.
The bridge is in flames.
The beautiful Brooklyn Bridge.
Pieces of metal land in the water.
Cries fill the cold air.
How did I get here?
The crowd pushes away from the bleak scene.
I’m lost in the midst of the throng.
It moves like one.
With one mind and purpose.
To seek shelter from the raining pieces.
Once we reach the buildings,
The crowd spreads out like ants.
Someone takes my hand and pulls me.
We check out the first building.
The metal door is locked and bolted.
So is each door we check.
Finally, we find an open door.
Sounds of sirens follow us inside.
The door shuts behind us.
We seem to be in a parking lot.
Who am I with?
I look up and can’t see his face.
He grunts and pulls me down the ramp.
I dig in my feet.
I refuse to follow him.
I must see his face.
He turns to me…
I wake up.
It was a terrible dream.
But I still wonder
What his face looked like.



A tropical jungle you see

Is just perfect for you and me.

We could walk along the creaky bridge,

Better than eating out of our fridge.

The jungle is waiting for us,

So we must get on the next bus.

I want to go into the forest deep

And I don’t want to hear from you a peep.

Walk across the rickety bridge with me,

An adventure is waiting–you’ll soon see.


What is my nightmare?

I’m in an office building,

somewhere in New York City.

I hear explosions.

I look out the window.

Planes are dropping bombs.

Buildings are bursting into flames.

People are screaming around me.

I run down the stairs,

caught in a mass of people,

all intent on escaping.

To where, we don’t know.

I run down the streets.

Bombs keep falling.

I see a bridge in the distance.

Then it’s gone.

It exploded.

All that’s left are flames.

What is happening?

Are we under attack?

I close my eyes.

I open them again.

I can see my room.

Thank god it was only a nightmare.

I swear I could still smell the smoke.

A strange holiday nightmare.



Bridge of Sigh by Tusharadri Mukherjee

The water beneath the bridge

flows smooth and clear.

The town is quiet.

The people are happy.

It is time for bed,

Where dreams will be happy ones.

The bridge gives a soft sigh

Of relief and happiness

Before it settles down for the night.


What’s on the other side?

Strange sounds are emanating

from the thick blanket of trees.

You can only see darkness and

the slight rustling of leaves.

You know you want to cross the bridge.

So you begin the shaky walk across.

The bridge sways with each footstep.

Should you continue?

You hesitate but you move forward

step by halting step.

You reach the other side.

There’s a loud crashing sound behind you.

You quickly turn to see the bridge

falling into the water below.

Now you are on the other side looking back.

You know you want to go back.

But it’s too late.

Human nature might have dictated your wants

but the bridge has dictated your reality.