July, 2019

"A Time" by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA

There will be a time of looking up,looking up toward the sky....one more time as the bunny, the car, the horse or whatever else he sees in the clouds goes drifting by on their way to work. There will be a time of one more time.
A time of looking down.Looking down at society with all its lights,all its buildings and pavement,all of the little people, the stressed out people looking like ants, scurrying around among their day.One more time of looking.
There will be a time of looking ahead.Of looking at the sun, no longer caring about burning the retinas.Of seeing Apollo ride his chariot into the flamesor perhaps looking ahead at the war torn moon with its snarling face.The "Man," one pissed off 'some bitch.One last time.
A time of watching the comet who once againhas come around to say, "Hello!"A time of seeing the constellations in full gloryor perhaps a lonely asteroid skipping past,wishing it could take out a satellite or two.One more time. There will come a time of one more time.
There will be a time when gravity no longer matters.No longer is of concern.A time of free-fall, of flying where all that will matteris promise of freedom, of stretching out the arms in release and enjoying the flight, the fall if for only a little while..One more time.
A time.There will be a time not yet here but coming.There is still a lot of time to go.

Drifter by Michael Shane Love - Lake Stevens, WA

And I ask, will you tell of this storywith those stars once disguised in your eyes?Looking back is not long, everything then made sense,sometimes days promised of a new prize.Now those prizes have stopped but do they have to?Everything comes with its own price to pay.Besides, you would find there is a box with a prizewhich in time you end up throwing away.And like those toys what have you molded into?You are a shell with nothing left inside.Just as you have thrown away your life over timeperhaps your turn to be tossed aside.It does not seem long ago. What happened?Can you reach as you did before?Like a drifter you drift in and then back out.Do you wonder whom you are anymore?Again I ask, will you tell of this story?Perhaps better, let it drift out to sea.You are forgotten about.You have floated away for nothing in life is for free.

“ About the Man Who Put Me Aside.” by Linda Amos – York, PA

Once upon a time, He confided, to me,“ I fell in love with you reading your poetry. ”
Me, a lonely widow, living alone, discarded,Believing my love life was over, found his words Flattering, unfathomable and unbelievable.
Yet, he did pursue me, I was his own personal quest.He chose the telephone to woo me, Until he convinced me that his words were true.
However, today, after our plans to wed, went askewHe chose to end our long engagement. He set me aside to pursue another.
His reasons mattered only to his heart and to mine;Because, he wanted to pursue other women nearby.However, he fell short of their financial expectations.
While, I whom he chose to set aside; in him, I continue to abide.My heart knows the truth we may never wedBut, I would never, not admit him to my bed,If he were only to ask me; me, the woman he set aside!

…Dreaming of Far Away Places…. by Linda Amos - York, PA

I guess I get my love of travel naturally from my Father.An able-bodied Merchant Seaman; circling the globe, 12 times, in 12 years. Him being so far away from home was the reasonWhy I grew up loving Geography, and all places foreign. He was already traveling when I was born; he was in Germany,Where our family immigrated from decades before. For all of my childhood, he always far was away,Earning a living on the Earth’s many seas and oceans. When he’d return he entertain me stories of towns large and small.Some of which he hated, some of which he hated to leave. He talked of Martinique, and the sea breeze that caressed his checks.The most beautiful of the Windward Islands in the Caribbean Sea. He spoke of a myriad of different women he met in foreign landsWhose enchanting eyes rivaled their lovely flowing long hair. He described the magnificent beauty of swarthy young men who fishedAnd whose skin turned bronze in the hot Mediterranean Sea’s sun. He had a look of wander in his eyes when he spoke of GreeceAnd what it was like to see the sun come up over the Acropolis. He spoke with rapture in his soul about a side trip through EgyptAs he approached the Pyramids and the Sphinx, at twilight, on camelback. He spoke with hesitation and longing about the Great Wall of ChinaAnd how he, as an American, was prohibited to venture there. He spoke with admiration and awe as his voice crackedAs he described waking up on the ship’s deck and seeing Mt. Fuji. Me, I love falling asleep, and dreaming;Of all of those beautiful faraway places. Inspired by the Poet’s Merchant Marine Father,Mr. Herbert “ Chris ” Gardner, Sr., deceased.

"Name That Song" by Terry Lee - San Antonio, TX

I sit and watch TV,With the sound turned off,Writing song lyrics in my head.It’s all about the punctuation,And, what needs to be said. I see and hear the whole storyAs life flashes before my eyes.Will it seem like a coincidence;Or, will it be somewhat business like? So, I practice the words I’ll say,And commit them to memory;Hoping that by tomorrow,Today will be worth remembering

Gifts of Love by Terry Lee - San Antonio, TX

Some gifts come wrapped in rhythm.Some presents come wearing lace.Some come when you least expect it.Some only on holidays. Some are to suit your needs,And, some to suit your taste.Some are just for the giving,And, some seem to go to waste. Some are meant to last,And, some last only for a while;But, there’s no gift of LoveLike the song in a smile.

"Pictures of a City Scene" by Matthew Anish - New York, NY

As subways move beneath the ground passengers sit in that strange public place Awaiting their stops Beneath the streets life rolls on On the sidewalks young men and women yearn for love Cats prowl in alleyways A policeman casts a wary eye on the sceneAuto lights are reflected in the splintered glassdarkness has wrapped itself around the city Streetlights cast their beams and they cut through the darkness of a place untold millions call home

Encounter with the Neighborhood by Matthew Anish – New York, NY

Walking around on the Lower East Side of New YorkI see visions of the pastI think I will watch the dance of the words As the sun shines overheadwe taste the reality we once knewBy that I mean the lights of foreverDo you really think you will change the world with your poems? The world is full of danger yet that nation within a nation the readers and writers of poetryremains on the radar screen poetry grips the soulEven some well - known athletes write verseMore people should take it up!

"Adaptations" by Tamara Fey Turner - Mission Hills, CA

When I was sevenMy life turned upside downOur dairy farm was soldDaddy began to raise cottonOur new house took a lot of getting used toWith running water in the kitchenAnd a bathroom insideComplete with a porcelain tubInstead of the round galvanized kindWe were now closer to my grandparentsAnd cousins who visited more oftenThere was even a special roomFor the washing machine Along with a benchLong enough for two rinse tubsWhich meant Mother wouldn’t Have to do the laundry on the Back porch when it was cold

Finally by Tamara Fey Turner - Mission Hills, CA

Joy of chocolateMelting in the sunTreatable humidity withPolished toes on clipboardsAloe Vera hills eating theLatest cancerous childrenOn airplanes swimmingOut of control along the Fine thin glass of communionBraces of gold introductions Cool Asian marker fishKeeping many secrets Washed away by sprinklersSending notes of thanks

"24 Hours" by Matei Monica - Judet Bacau, Romania

Things must be right….to survive the sadness,to spend the life together, maybe you will remember, the love is in every heart,true love, true love. How we spent the time, …speaking about feelings, or, how creation is doing the right path,the way to the noble meanings. We live, we love,we hopes ever!

Huron Stone by Matei Monica - Judet Bacau, Romania

Beauty around….wanted to add me into your diversity, seasons to cover, to get love, serenity, special touch of destiny…Huron Tribe knowing you in better appreciation, spring or winter Huron Stone you shows nature's love, spending our time. Shapes through beliefs…believe the essence! No words through pictures, taken with love, heart to share, around the souls, …sea and land, colors and faith, oh….must be appreciation. Sky above every touch of destiny….we love it, …we share it, density of knowledge, taking pictures for remembering …..so happy, so beautiful…. With every step,I have…no words ….no words!

Wild Grapes by Sheryl L. Nelms – Clyde, TX

hang plump
and purple
in the shadebeside Cowskin Creek
waiting for me
to pinchthem
downto boil
into a tangy jellyto spread on
buttermilk biscuits

Sail Cats by Sheryl L. Nelms – Clyde, TX

flattened by the thumpof tires
dried by the July sun
they become bountyto fightover
to boomeranginto theKansas sky

SHE TOLD THE ROBIN by Juanita Torrence-Thompson - Bayside, NY

She told the robinThat awakened herWith honey-toned trillHow the wind blewScatty tat tat whosh whoshRhythm as she walkedThe emerald glen How the sun warmedHer silent bonesIn summer,Cast shadowsLong and somberOn dismal days How the rain Prayed forIn drought-ridden locksSuddenly rat a tat tattedOn winding roads near and far How the moonPeeked throughGossamer cloudsLighting licorice lanesAs she skipped home How glistering starsKept her secretWishes in theBig dipper The robin and the owlMet with her todayAt dawn sayingDo not fear, my dearThings will get betterYou must believe.

I DREAMT I WAS A CAN OPENER by Juanita Torrence-Thompson

I dreamt I was a can openerOpening a can of worms:Cleopatra embracing the aspJuliet drinking the potionMarie Antoinette in the BastilleHenry VIII’s Anne BoleynMeeting personal Waterloos I dreamt I was a zebra without stripesA stove without pipes I think I was a faucetWithout a spoutA pig with no snoutReindeer without a sleighPalomino with no mown hay If I was a zebra, pig,Palomino or reindeer, that’s OKA stove or faucet – let handyman play A can opener?Watch political cans worldwideFissure and explodeInto global warming

Walking Hand in Hand with the Day by Evie Ivy - Linden, NJ

My bedroom faces the backyardsof houses. I hear sad barking dogs,and cats, and kittens that need care.And who is caring in those backyards? At times a child cries, and I can’tbe of comfort. To be restingsomewhere else! Then, in the morningthe sounds of joyful birds come in as they fly from windows to clothes linesto trees. They celebrate, announcea newborn day’s light to stretch in.It’s the birds that have saved everything.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Dance by Evie Ivy - Linden, NJ

I love the honesty in dance.You either move to the leftor the right, forward or take a leap into the air. If you lieabout what you did the positionin which you are in will betray you. I love the honesty of the day.The sun in the morning, whetheryou see it or it’s behind clouds. Embrace the day that is.I want to hold these truths—The tree or wall can be bumped into or not. The air that’s breathedis there. And of course, bringon the honesty of the dance.

School Shootings and the Mentally Ill by Jon Bush - Belmont, MA

As is often mentioned in the news Ibristle when I read that the shooter wassuspected of having mental illness whenhe was homicidal and suicidal. I myself was diagnosed with Schizophrenia 41 years ago this June andI am still around and doing quite well. I've had good success with my Art andwriting. And I have held down several jobsfor a long time until I retired. And I considerwhen I am writing letters like this, that Iam being a good citizen. I'm not trying to sound boastful, justaccurate. Schizophrenia is treatable. It'snot easy. It takes equal amounts of goodluck, hard work, and support from friendsand family, who ever they may be. And I have been stable for 30 years,sober for 35 years. And smoke free fromtobacco for 91/2 years. And by in large ithas been a peaceful happy time. As theysay, it's all good. And I think that those with mentalillness, although they certainly suffer, aresome of the best people I know. I trustthem implicitly. People are scared by whatthey don't understand. We need to keep the lines of communication open withthose who are marginal and isolated fromsociety. Judge me by me and not myillness. Little things mean so much. When I walk down the streets of Belmont, people often take a few seconds to sayhello. It doesn't cost anything to be nice,and a simple kind word or two canmean so much.

Page updated

Google Sites

Report abuse