Editor: Julie Fulbrightclevelandstatecc.edu/content/uploads/mycs/frontage_road...2005/04/07 ·...
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Transcript of Editor: Julie Fulbrightclevelandstatecc.edu/content/uploads/mycs/frontage_road...2005/04/07 ·...
Editor: Julie Fulbright
Front cover photography by: Stacey RogersThe cover photo is of the Whitewater Center bridge at Ocoee River, TN
Graphic Design and Production: Tony Bartolo and Brenda Ellis
Printer: Dockins Graphics, Cleveland, Tenn.
Copyright: 2005
Cleveland State Community College
All Rights Reserved
Cleveland State Community College is accredited by the Commission onColleges of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, 1866 SouthernLane, Decatur, Ga. 30033-4097, telephone number (404) 679-4501.
Cleveland State Community College is an Affirmative Action/ EqualEmployment Opportunity (AA/EEO) institution committed to the educationof a non-racially identifiable staff and student body. The college does notpermit discrimination on the basis of race, color, religious views, veteranstatus, political affiliation, gender, age, national origin, orientation ordisability against employees, students and guests in any college sponsored orhosted educational program or activity including, but not limited to, thefollowing: recruitment; admissions; academic and other educational programactivities; housing; facilities; access to course offerings; counseling; financialassistance; employment assistance; health and insurance benefits andservices; rules for marital and parental status; student services; and athletics.
CSCC HS-04S381-4/7/05
Table of ContentsMarsha Leonard – Cherished Parents ...........................................................5
Cheese ............................................................................ 6Letter Poem .....................................................................7Do You Know? ................................................................8Popcorn ...........................................................................9Words ............................................................................10It’s Hard for Me ............................................................ 11Mid-Day Dreamer .........................................................12Papa’s Right Here .........................................................13
Tyler Goodner – The Ring ...........................................................................14Gregory L. Cook – How Many Times .........................................................15Laura Thompson – Poem of Love and Happiness .......................................16Linda Howerton – Dreams ..........................................................................17
Pieces ............................................................................18Smoke ...........................................................................19Inside Out ......................................................................20Save Me ........................................................................21This House ....................................................................22
Hanah Ben-Judah – Heaven Only Knows ..................................................23Callie Harris – Haiku ..................................................................................24Pamela Ware – The End ..............................................................................25
Peace ...................................................................................26Backed in a Corner .............................................................27Choice .................................................................................28Four ....................................................................................29
L. B. Blackwell – How You Must Feel .......................................................30The Heart Alone .............................................................31
Jennisy Harmon – Silence ...........................................................................32Andrea Bibee – Mid-Summer Day ..............................................................33Sheena Chastain – Jonathan ........................................................................34Curtis Warner – You Must Be .....................................................................35Paul Roberts – Coward ...............................................................................36Brianna Austin – Wonder ............................................................................37Hope Wineman – Untitled ...........................................................................38Melanie Fulbright – Haiku ..........................................................................39Jessi Steve – Untitled ...................................................................................40Campbell Teague – Weeping Earth .............................................................41Lauralyn Franklin – Extreme Estrogen .......................................................42
Nineteen .....................................................................44Tissues for My Issues .................................................45My Big Black Bag ......................................................46The World a Better Place ............................................47What I Would Have Missed .......................................48
Sunny J. Murray, Samantha Quinn, Stacey Rogers, Melissa Rymer, and Pamela Ware – Random ...........................................49Samantha Quinn – Film Critic ....................................................................50Pat Minter – U.S.S. Bolivar ........................................................................51
Wake-Up Call .........................................................................54Swimming Hole .....................................................................55Squirrel for Dinner .................................................................56Sounds ....................................................................................57Brain or Brawn? .....................................................................58God’s Grace ...........................................................................59
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Frontage Road 7Marsha Brantley – Punctuation ...................................................................60Stephanie Stedman – Allie ...........................................................................61Andrew Albertson – Let Us Be the Ones to Remember ..............................62Andrew Bell – Nature Poem ........................................................................63Autumn Cooper – Who Knows a Happy Moment? .....................................64
Farewell, Louise .............................................................65Tamara Kharabora –Can You Hear Me? ....................................................66
Baby ..........................................................................67A Murderer’s Symphony ...........................................68I’m Sorry ...................................................................69Types of Tears ............................................................70In Your Death ............................................................71Death .........................................................................72
Sunny J. Murray – Searching by the Water .................................................73Stacey Rogers – As I Stand Here .................................................................75Dawn Glenn – What If Love .......................................................................76
The Secret We Share ...........................................................77When I Look at You ............................................................79The Ocean ...........................................................................80Snap Shot ............................................................................81
Melissa Rymer – Pills ..................................................................................82Christina Lynn – Snow Day ........................................................................83Talia Dunn – People ....................................................................................84Jessee Mason – Storm .................................................................................85
War ....................................................................................86David Ballew – Once Upon a Time in Mexico ............................................87John C. Mannone – Family Portrait ............................................................89
Let Everything That Has Breath .................................90Star Party .....................................................................91Fire Polished ...............................................................92
Jessica Kohler – i think ...............................................................................93Lindsey Bartolai – Love ..............................................................................95Brian Aparicio-Rascon – Mi Amor Es ........................................................96Ryan Leonard – Haikus (Part 1) ..................................................................97
Haikus (Part 2) ..................................................................98Lunch Room Lament ........................................................99
Amy Steinbecker – My Marine ..................................................................100Katie Healy – Angel ..................................................................................101
The Raincoat ......................................................................102Julie Fulbright – Wounded Rose ...............................................................104
PHOTOGRAPHS SUBMITTED BY: Steve Austin, Brooke Campbell,Whitney Carroll, Jennifer Cate, Autumn Cooper, Precious Crowe, AmandaCutting, Diane Davis, Allison Denham, Brittany Esco, Kevin Flowers,Mandy Foust, Sherri Hickman, Valerie Hunt, Natalie Johnson, MarshaLeonard, Christina Lynn, Meagan McKay, P.J. McKay, Sunny Murray, TylerNeff, Tina Newell, Cassie Osborne, Jana Pankey, Ryan Phelps, JenniferRingelstein, Stacey Rogers, and Buffie Wallace.
ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY: Ryan Leonard, Jared Shelton, and AmandaShinpaugh.
NOTE: Drawings/photos and writings are not always by the same person.
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Cherished ParentsMarsha Leonard
She was delicateHe was so strong
She was always rightHe would play along
They loved their kids,Loved the Master
She a tender MotherHe a caring Pastor
Four children they madeNine Grand, Eleven Great
One full-size familyEach has their parents’ trait
She had spunkHe kept harmony
Both are in HeavenWith God for Eternity
She went in AprilHe in September
We’ll never forget ThemWe will remember
James Billy Leonard Nelly Rush Leonard
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CheeseMarsha Leonard
Oh how I love theeYou are so multi-talented.Your name may be Cheese
But I call you Colby or Jack.To a meal you add sharp zest.
No condiment surpasses your magnitude.Your taste mollifies my appetite
You are so Gouda to me.From American to Swiss
Oh how I love thee
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Letter PoemMarsha Leonard
Dear Childhood,
I thought about you todayAnd remembered all the fun we had.Did you like going by so quicklyor did you just do that to annoy me?I guess I’ll never completely know.Our time together may have been short,But I’d never trade it for anything.
Your Daydreamer
—Marsha Leonard
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Do You Know?Marsha Leonard
When I look at you, do you know what I see?Someone who is riddled with contemplation.When you speak with me, do you know what I hear?A tone that is both reassuring and strained.When I think of you, do you know what I ponder?Will you trust me enough to open your door?When you write to me, do you know what I comprehend?Time and care were placed into these very words.When I pray for you, do you know what I say?Father, keep this one from the enemy.When you laugh with me, do you know why I smirk?I turned your grimace into a grin.When I glance at you, do you know what I notice?A person who likes me for being, just me.
(A poem for a friend)
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PopcornMarsha Leonard
It takes three minutesThe wonderful aroma
Great, now I’m hungry
“Annie”
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WordsMarsha Leonard
In black, words we writeThey can cut deep or heal fast
Deep thoughts are revealed
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It’s Hard for MeMarsha Leonard
It’s hard for me tosee friends in pain.It’s hard for me to
ask for someone’s help.It’s hard for me whenlife changes my day.It’s hard for me to
leave my comfort place.It’s hard for me to
move on and let go.It’s hard for me when
I need to get away.It’s hard for me to
keep my brain focused.It’s hard for me toLet someone in.It’s hard for me,
I just can’t explain.
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Mid-Day DreamerMarsha Leonard
Where the wind is as sweet as athicket filled with honeysuckle.
That is where I shall be.In the place that is most
Secret to my heart.This is where I will take wings.
In a world full of visionsall my very own.
I will live out a proper fairytale.When a desire to evade the realitythat is fully strained comes at hand
I know how, when, and where to go.This place I call my noon reverie.
My name is simple but vivid.I am the Midday Dreamer
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Papa’s Right HereMarsha Leonard
Their moment was preciousThe waters roared past
Two sets of eyes looked onOne small hand clasped tightly by another one.
Grandpa and Grandson feel the water about themTaking in this anomaly.
A word is spoken to calm all fearsDon’t worry, Papa’s right here you see.
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The RingTyler Goodner
With this ring comes a promise,A promise to be faithful and true,With this ring comes a promise,A promise I ask from you.
Would you please be with me,Would you please set me free,Would you please help me see,I ask this of you on my knee.
With this ring comes a promise,A promise to never be broken apart,With this ring comes a promise,A promise till death do we part.
Fall Creek Falls
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How Many Times
Gregory L. Cook
How many times have I asked you what is going on?
How many times have I asked you, please tell me what is wrong?
How many times have I told you, everything will be ok, you are not alone?
How many times have I shown you, I will be there no matter what you have done?
How many times have I tried to show you that I am thankful to have your love and our happy home?
How many times have you asked me what is going on?
How many times have “you” asked me what is wrong?
How many times have you told me, everything will be ok, you are not alone?
How many times have you shown me that you will be there no matter what I have done?
How many times have you been thankful for my love and our happy home?
Goforth Creek
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Poem of Love and HappinessLaura Thompson
You are the one I run toYou are always there for me, no matter what I doWhen I need help you are thereYou always give me tenderness and careYou always give me many hugs and kissesI am so happy to be in love with youYou are there to hold me upWith you is where I always want to beYou always give me loveI cannot believe someone like you would have someone like meYou mean so much to my heartI want to always be with youI will never do you wrongI will not let your days be darkI want to say thank you for your love and tendernessThank you for your care and happinessThank you for your heart so trueI thank the Lord to have someone like you.
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DreamsLinda Howerton
Through the mist
I watch you walk away,
and the darkness came quietly
to settle upon my breast.
Restless, I wander through the house,
leaving doors open to my past.
The loose ends of my life
flap their haunting wings in the wind,
drowning out the words
I want to say.
There is nothing I can do
but watch you walk away.
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PiecesLinda Howerton
It’s gone now.
That time I spent with you in paradise.
The things we did all belong in a song
the name – I can’t remember.
Everything fit together like a puzzle.
Each event led to another until
our pattern was fixed in time.
Once, when I wanted you again, I tried to put
the puzzle back together.
Every piece fit just like before
only I could never find the one that meant you.
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SmokeLinda Howerton
I am like the smoke
you try to clutch within your fist
with a scent so sweet and subtle
that you cannot resist.
I linger in your life long enough
to make you mine,
then I’ll drift away
before you have the time
to discover who I am.
Like a melody of song
that you cannot recall,
you know that somewhere
I must exist behind
that gray wall.
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Inside OutLinda Howerton
She lies in the darkness
holding inside all the theories
she’s collected over the years,
waiting for the right moment to lay
them out before him.
She hears the soft music
of his love.
Not liking the way it sounds she turns from
him to face the wall.
Concentrating on a tiny dot of chipped paint,
she creates her own.
Its relaxing melody mixes with his.
He turns toward her, reaching out to stroke
her breast, forgetting that they have had a fight.
She cannot forget.
She continues to face the wall.
All the while, she is turning inside out
to expose her soul to him
to find if his love lies with her flesh
or with her theories.
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Save MeLinda Howerton
Plop, plop, plop,
watch the rain drop.
Save me.
Put me in a drawer
with old photographs.
Take me out on those rainy days
when there’s nothing else to do.
And remember that once
I loved you.
Ball River Falls, Tellico Plains, Tennessee
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This HouseLinda Howerton
This house waits in the shadows
like an unwanted priest
beckoning my sinful soul
to come into its heart.
I hide from it until all is dark
then I silently slip in.
Once a weary light
was left on shining out at me-
I would not enter until it was turned off.
Walk silently, my friend,
angels are sleeping in every corner.
Washington State
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Heaven Only KnowsHanah Ben-Judah
Heaven only knows.the day the world endsthe day of destructionthe destruction begins againand againtill the end of the world I see you now and then I won’twe’ll be dead...heaven or hell ..who can tell?Heaven, Heaven only knows.Out of shadowswhere the world can seenothing in the light of dayeverything in the dark of nightwithout strengthbearing the weight of the worldscarred soulbattered heart in a weakened worlddestruction lies in heap with empires long gonewhen will it endHeaven only knows.
Memories trapped in timebut always stuck in my mindforever four years oldbuilt from a parental moldfear only fear itselfand that’s all of you’ve gotletting go is the hardest partyears past leading to a weak-end heartspread my wings and fly into oblivion of destructionnothing too much and nothing too littlealbum of memories clear as photographsclouded memories overlap.who can tell one from onetruth from fiction?
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HaikuCallie Harris
Snakes are slithering
While chasing the basketball
Rabbits are jumping
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The EndPamela Ware
Thrown into a world of sin,
Then traumatized by abuse and pain
My trusting innocence taken away
Confusion becoming my pathway
All joy removed from my life
And in return given strife
Oh! How I ache to laugh to cry
To feel the joy of living life
But, all I feel is a slow death
And the pain won’t end until,
I take my last breath.
*All poems in this book written by this author were written during a deep depression.
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PeacePamela Ware
Like a bird that cannot fly,
That is how I feel inside.
Upside down and turned around,
My thoughts sometimes can’t be found.
Lost in a world of pain, of chilling winds and freezing rain.
Finding peace in the night
In the darkness and the quiet
Loneliness is my friend, and pain is the next of kin.
When I die and my life ends
Peace will be my closest friend.
Lake Junaluska
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Backed in a CornerPamela Ware
Backed in a corner,With no way outNot even left withThe strength to shout
Begging for helpBut not even heardPleading for mercyReceiving no word
Crying for mercyAnd an escapeGetting no responseNot even hate
I’m backed in a cornerWith no where to goPhysically strandedBut can I free my soul?
Should I leave this body?Alone in its trapTo be found by those whoCould have gotten me outWould they have helped me?If they had only heardThe desperation in my pain-filled words.
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ChoicePamela Ware
Are we all slaves to pain?And if we are, are we insane?Who’s to say when I will die?Whose choice is it, God’s or mine?Some say I have no choice, but I sayI have a voice.Give me pain or give me death?Shall I put that choice to the test?I pray to God to give me rest,But the rest I see is in my death.
Buena Vista, Colorado
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FourPamela Ware
They say they loveThey say they careBut when I’m with them I feel fearWhat if I do something wrong?If with them I don’t get along?Will the love go away?That is a chance I fear to takeCan I chance it? Do I dare?Do they love me? Do they care?
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How You Must FeelL.B. Blackwell
Alone I sit and wonder whyThe love I give gets no replyJust empty words and vain remarks.The heart, to which, is not applied.
I’m sure that love within residesFor such emotion, one can’t hide.But well they try, despite the heart.And tell themselves, it’s Fortune’s tide.
My body aches each time I try,To show them it’s just foolish pride.That keeps them from My loving arms,But stern they stand in stubborn stride.
What hurts the worst is letting lie,The choice they have to live or die,To watch them choose the latter part,And act as though they’re satisfied.
Know they not, for them I criedWept with no one by my sideGave my own so theirs could startHung aloft and crucified.
If only they would let me in,A brand new life they could begin,If only I knew how to win,A heart that fights its truest friend.
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The Heart AloneL.B. Blackwell
Empty and coldThe heart aloneShudders to thinkIts lover has goneLeft to ventureOn its ownThe heart aloneIs forced to roam.To look for loveIn places unknownTo wail and moanAnd turn to stone.To try and findItself a home.Without its lover’sSoothing toneThe heart aloneWill come undone.Spin aroundAnd come unspunDestroy emotionsSparing none.Starting backWhere it begunFeeling nothingForced to runAway from love.And knowing wellThe heart aloneWill suffer hellAnd burn with fireThat sears the sunBut love dies notWhen bodies rotThe grave can neverOvercome.Oh, that it could.For I would die.To kill my painAnd say goodbyeBut well I know,If I should go,My love for youWould only grow.So I’ll remain,In flesh and bones,To suffer withMy heart alone.
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SilenceJennisy Harmon
It’s dark, it’s dangerous.
one break in the monotony is frightening.
contained within a deep well, it lingers.
captured inside the heart, it suffocates.
shared between lovers, it aches with pain.
hidden behind a secret or sin, it cracks and bleeds. Its breath is like a dying wound.
It is where the whispers of demons carry chuckles of loss and despair.
all is cold.
all is alone.
Buena Vista, Colorado
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Mid-Summer DayAndrea Bibee
Have you ever noticed a mid-summer day?
The way it is never dull or gray.
Everyone seems to want to sit or play.
If on a lake on a mid-summer day
the soft blowing breeze or the rolling of the waves.
I would like to stay in a mid-summer day.
In a dream or a painting hung on the wall.
That is pretty much all.
Would you not like to stay in a mid-summer day?
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JonathanSheena Chastain
I miss him.
I miss his laugh, his look,
His eyes. I miss his love,
His hugs, and his kiss.
I miss my friend.
I miss our talks, our jokes,
Our laughter. I miss the
Fun things we used to do.
I miss my love.
I miss having him here
With me knowing that I
Would be safe and happy with him.
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You Must BeCurtis Warner
you are my friend when i am all alone. but who are you?you and i have so much history. but i have never seen you.the sound of you is so confident and strong.While i sit in a corner like a mouse afraid of the world.You are one of a kind for I know no one with your style.you are cool, calm, collective, smooth, and tough at the same time.Now that I am thinking, you must be the one my friends told me about.You must be Jazz.
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CowardPaul Roberts
Some say love is blind,no race nor bounds can sway its mind
But, I think mine must have cheated,it must have had a peek
For when I saw her faceI could only stand in awe
I dare not to approach her andask of her, her name
For I know I will fall and all end in pain
I fall in my shame knowingshe was only a step away
I curse at my cowardness day after day
Hoping only to see her again today
At last my wish has been heard
Maybe today I can tell her that
I’m In Love
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WonderBrianna Austin
Would you rather know you were going to die?Or would you rather be taken quietly and swiftly in the night?Do you back away from people who are sick?Did you ever stop to think?Don’t tell me you haven’t seen them, the ones you never talk to.If you say you haven’t, then you’re lying.They’re the ones you’re scared of.Do you sleep without ever dreaming?Or are you chased repeatedly?Cast a quick glance here and there; watch yourself; don’t be scared.They’re coming for you; only this time they won’t make the same mistake.Don’t call me your friend when it’s convenient for you and turn your back when I need you.We’ll all die; it’s a matter of time.Next time you tell me a lie, make sure it’s not one that’s going to take my life.
Disney World
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UntitledHope Wineman
Many wars have been fought in the name of God.And yet none has truly been won.Many fight for holy purposes undisclosed,For reasons to eliminate threats proposed.There are relics of gold and knights of valor,Who fight for a person whose only desire is power.And with each victory will more people convert.While the leaders hide their intentions with great concerts,As these Holy Men preach that their faith is not faltered,To God alone, the loving father.But it will be the true lover’s blood that will be shed,So that a king may keep the crown upon his head.But one must ask, are these wars really the strength of God doing his part?Or is it the weakness of mankind who has not taken God, but greed, to heart?For any person who is willing to destroy a life for a possession of any kindIs not a lover of God but a failure of mankind.Therefore, listen not to the words of men, but to your heart as it ticks.For only an individual’s faith is pure, while mass religion is strictly politics.
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HaikuMelanie Fulbright
I don’t know how toput into coherent thought
my five, seven, five
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UntitledJessi Steve
As I walk down this twisted pathI see the pain of people’s wrath
The grass and trees are stained dark redThe blood of my brothers that are all dead
This horrible war between the North and SouthLeaves children alone with hungry mouths
The Battle of Antietam was the bloodiest dayAll around me bodies lay
All around me children are lostWhat do the lives of these children cost?
Mothers cry and cryAs they watch their sons fall and die
As this war finally endsWe all go home to weep and mend
I thank the Lord day and nightThat we finally ended this horrible fight
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Weeping EarthCampbell Teague
Mother Earth is weepingHer winds are howlingThe sun is frowningOver the environment’s suffering
Her clouds are cryingCrying with raindropsHuman destruction of the environmentHas made all of Mother Earth’s elements suffer
Mother Earth would not be weepingIf humans would treat her betterHer skies are no longer shiningHer oceans are no longer sparkling
Don’t you understand?Do you not hear the good Lord telling her to weepSo people will help her out and make her smile againBy cleaning up the environment
Mother Earth is spinning day and nightSpinning and wondering when she will smile againPollution makes Mother Earth cryShe cries hearing the environment screaming
Mother Earth will not weep for long thoughThe good Lord has told her to slowly pour out her wrathHer temperatures are risingHer storms are havockingHer winds are howlingHer fires are a blazingShe has now released her punishmentThe event of Global Warming
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Extreme EstrogenLauralyn Franklin
Shuffling to the coffee pot with tired, puffy eyes;Still grumbling ‘bout yesterday, because of my guy.
Walls aren’t prepped for paint, kitchen garbage overflows;Think I’ll fret the day away - my guy, he moves too slow.
What’s for dinner honey? I haven’t a clue,And I don’t feel like cooking; so, what else is new?
Fold my arms and scowl - that’s what I’ll do.That might aggravate him, but it won’t make him move.
Chatted with my best friend - oh how I love that man!He truly is a great guy; he just doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t tell the time exactly as I do;And when I keep on talking, he suggests that I am through.
Peering in my closet, I have not a thing to wear.I’m tired of my wardrobe; then, there’s the issue of my hair.
It’s not cooperating, now the scissors are in hand;Snip a little here and there - guess I’ll blame my man.
Went to the grocery store - my food was bagged all wrong.You’d think it was my guy’s fault - a too familiar song.
Fire away the questions – like a drill sergeant I am.Answer them correctly; aren’t you glad that you’re my man?
Don’t spend any money honey; we’ve got lots of bills.You want to buy what - but, what about my frills?
I don’t know what is wrong with me; the tears begin to fall.My guy wants to fix it; I head for the mall.
Can’t he read my mind? He should know how I feel.If he’d just do it my way, then we could make a deal.I’ve got to get a grip on life; I need to let things go.
Why do I try to change him? My guy, I love him so.
It’s my prerogative to continually change my mind.My right as a woman - wish he’d learn to read my signs.
Perhaps I’ve been harsh and a little too unfair;Could that be the reason why my guy is always there?
Constant and steadfast, unmoved by my storm;Knowing sooner or later I’ll swing back toward the norm.
Ladies, let’s be thankful for long suffering men;After all, we are women - extreme estrogen.
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NineteenLauralyn Franklin
Ring goes the phoneSignaling the time
Roll out of bedIt’s 8:25
Twenty minutes laterRinging resonates againMumbling on the line
Class starts in ten
A bugle call of ReveilleMay open sleepy eyes
Though not a guaranteeCertainly worth a try
Misplaced dress pantsWorking one to nine
Recalling they’re in Holly’s carRecoup another time
Scatterings of laundryT-shirt can’t be foundConcealed far beneath
Extracted from the mound
Later on that eveningBack door revolves again
C’ya mom - love yaIt’s only 10 p.m.
Roused at 2:00 a.m.In her room I peekSighing with relief
Under blankets fast sleep
Next sun-up I dialFrom the office to her bedOptimistic the cell phoneRests closely by her head
A slumberous helloGreets daybreak’s routineMother’s heart is warmed
How I love nineteen
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Tissues for My IssuesLauralyn Franklin
Please pass the tissuesWhile I shed a tear or twoFretting over days of old
Wishing some I could redo
Regrets of yesteryearPoor choices ‘long the way
Please let me ventAs I sob the night away
Angry and resentfulAt times filled with fearPlease pass the tissues
To catch my falling tears
Eyes are now puffyNose is sore and red
I’m thoroughly exhaustedA throbbing in my head
Can’t change the pastMust live for today
Looking to the futurePut my tissues away
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My Big Black BagLauralyn Franklin
My big black bagToted every day
Into the workplaceUnder my desk it stays
Its contents are variedLooking one will seeCosmetics, etceteraLife’s necessities
A rather jumbled messPapers galore
Digging to the bottomBand-aids and more
Today a lint brushAllergy meds and tea
Polish removerThings I may need
Practical yet prettyA now familiar friend
My big black bagConstant now and then
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The World a Better PlaceLauralyn Franklin
Barely five foot oneHard working and funLooks about sixteenTurning twenty-three
Compassionate and kindA conscientious mindDetailed and preciseOutspoken and nice
Graduates next yearNursing her career
Clinical at YaleMy Florence Nightingale
Patients to be blessedCared for by the best
My daughter’s pretty faceThe world a better place
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What I Would Have MissedLauralyn Franklin
The drive thru line looked endless; I parked and went inside.Anxiously I stood in line; a friendly face said hi.
A soft-spoken woman with red wavy hair;The calmest blue eyes - of her life began to share.
In ten minutes time which seemed to quickly fly;I learned much about this woman, and I didn’t even try.
Just back from vacation and a mother of four,Three months in a new house, unpacking and more.
Her children on the mission field in varied foreign places;She’s practiced hospitality, housing unfamiliar faces.
Her pet of five years, just a teacup in size;Barney the chihuahua fears tree frogs and hides.
Stepping up I placed my order - quickly came my food.Bid this woman good day; how she’d lifted my mood.I couldn’t help but ponder being thankful for this time.What I would have missed idling in the drive-thru line.
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Random Sunny Murray, Samantha Quinn, Stacey Rogers,
Melissa Rymer, Pamela Ware
How wonderful the world is,Balanced circle of good and evil.The trees blowing in the wind.I can’t believe I ever loved you.I feel tears of humiliation because of my love for you.With a scratch and a sniff I’m on my way.Subtitles sprawled beneath my charcoal world.The sun’s warmth shines down on my face.Hearts are like balloons breaking easily.Tears fall from the sky feeling my pain.The clouds gather overhead.Chocolate dreams of vanilla fields.I often wonder why.My feelings are still strong.Bowling with the devil.Lovely is the picture that hangs upon the wall.Creases wander sideways reminding me of smiling eyes.We are content with who we are.The dreams I had for us are ruined.We’re finished.
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Film Critic Samantha Quinn
My life is a bad foreign film,No subtitles and no end soon,Bad cinematography and acting,Lots of casting problems.As usual for a bad film,There are unrealistic plot twists,Semi-believable characters,And a couple of main sets.Low budget and low action,Full of melodramatic scenes,Mostly on my part as expected,All stereotyped people are involved.I keep waiting for the director,He refuses to yell cut,Not that I would understand him anyway,He doesn’t speak my language.
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Kyoto, Japan
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U.S.S. BolivarPat Minter
“Gunnery personnel open fire onlywhen a plane is attacking this ship!”————————————————————-The Isle of Luzon was the objective.He knew it was not very far.He also felt somewhat dejectedAnd repulsed by the nature of war;While on the Assault Transport, U.S.S. Bolivar.
Cleaned and ready, was his gun,When Jap Zeros unleashed their anger.Kamikazes, flying straight from the sun;The whole crew sensed imminent dangerTo their lives, on the U.S.S. Bolivar.
The brave Captain reminded all crew,“The Japs will do anything to destroy us.”But the American young sailors all knew;They wouldn’t sway from trustIn their mission— aboard the U.S.S. Bolivar.
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Hunkered down in their pillboxes;The Japs were held at bay...trappedUntil all marine-filled craft landed;And while some time elapsed,The big guns of Bolivar kept on pounding.
There was no need to go to sick-bay,When shrapnel wounded his skinBut then, facing him in coming days...Iwo, Leyte, Saipan—more victories to win;For all sailors on U.S.S. Bolivar.
Under thick, smoke- screen’s cover; his shipSlipped away with scores of casualties on board.There was a total of 18 trips,Before peace could be restored!You did your part—crew of U.S.S. Bolivar.
Note: Based on the actual memorandumfrom the ship’s Captain to all gunnerypersonnel, plus memories of one gunner’smate from the U.S.S. Bolivar.January 4-9, 1945.World War II. (The gunner’s mate was G.H.M.)
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Wake-Up CallPat Minter
Wake up! wake up! The alarm was sounding.Clang! clang! clang! it insisted.Not yet ready to hear,He hit the “snooze” without a fearOf consequences;Then indulged his taste budsFor another year.
The “alarm” grew silent. Ignored,After doing its best.Then suddenly;A louder “call” came
As pain in his chest!
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Swimming HolePat Minter
One hot summer dayMy brothers took a poleAnd said, “Oh no, you can’t goWith us, to the old swimming hole.” Not elected, I felt dejectedAnd ran to tell Mother on them.“You can’t go for a swimI know it’s toughBut being the fairer gender;Would definitely hinderTheir freedom to swim in the buff.”
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Squirrel for DinnerPat Minter
My garden’s real survivalIs at stake, unless all rodents from a treeAre caught... and made liableFor every hole-digging spree.
Humane Society, “Heed this warning,Your cute little nibblers; served for entree...Is not that sad ...or alarming.Compared to the outrage in me.”
I demand therefore, that their full pardonDepends on this legal decree:“Squirrels, you must get out of my garden!And go back to your home in the tree!”
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SoundsPat Minter
Game-playing sounds
It’s recess at school
Children laughing gleefully
“Making up” games’ rules.
Remember?
Piano-practice sounds
Hesitance before each note
Finally, concerto skill sounds
Of a bright, future hope
Remember?
Rooster-crowing sounds
Announcing a brand new day
Sound of hens cackling
Bragging on eggs just laid
Remember?
Train whistle’s sound; now gone
A nostalgic sound indeed
Over the trestle, through the tunnel
Creating slightly different tones
Remember?
Sounds of a newborn’s cry
Healthy and sound as can be
The most meaningful sound of all
Stored in the brain’s memory
Remember?
Accessing the warehouse of sounds
Is a rewarding activity
Simply open up the brain cells
You have your own key.
Remember!
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Brain or Brawn?Pat Minter
Exercise, exercise, exercise; t’was what the Doctor ordered.“But can’t you see?I must explainThe need for time to sit and sometimes bemoanThe fact that my brain is asked to stretch and aim For lofty ideas expressed in a poem.”Brain or brawn—which shall it be?Although the better choiceIs not completely clear,Inside, a little voiceWhispers,
“The more you sit,The less you’re fit!”
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God’s GracePat Minter
Dear God,
Remember our long history together;The times we’ve said, “good morning” “and good night.”The trust, the fellowship— no matter the weather?True faith, not dependent on sight.Our incredible journey; not always sublime;Yet enriched by your aura: a lightShining thru my seven decades of time.
In childhood, the songs were affirming;As seven siblings and parents gave voiceTo the words of “classic” hymns ... learningMore about your grace; an early choice.
Right through college; while still a teenWhose “chemicals of infatuation;”Prompted certain, insistent dreams.But wise choices required maturationAnd a much healthier self-esteem!
Then, marriage and the first job...teaching;Overwhelming as both had seemed;Your strong, divine hand encouraged reachingToward noble goals, of which I’d dreamed.
Next, the most challenging stage in life:Three little miracles; yes it’s true;Ages were all...under five!Yet, your great wisdom came thru...Quietly switching me to “auto pilot”Until matured enough...I knewHow to navigate the clouds.Got it!
A glimpse of “assignments” from you!Wow! When three miracles became four;You said, “Come down from the cloudy blue,If you want to know more,You need a clearer assignment view.Can’t you see? The most noble missions for you, dearAre those who came... out of you!”
Yours truly,Pat Minter
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PunctuationMarsha Brantley
Periods commas questions marksWhere do the all fit in
I get them all soJumbled up like
Sheep without a penGrammars not my favorite thing
My. Sentences? Don’t! flow”It’s all those dots and curlyques
That make me suffer soIf I could just learn how to put
My feelings into wordsWithout a mark or swiggly thing
A colon dash or slashThen I might could improve myself
And not be such an ass
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AllieStephanie Stedman
Her eyes as bright as the summer skyHer hair as soft as spun silkAn unforgettable smile sits perfectly on her faceas her soul shines throughShe has a spirit as free as the wind blows on a Spring afternoonShe is encompassed by loveShe is my giftMy heartMy babyShe is my Allie
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Let Us Be the Ones to Remember Andrew Albertson
*In reflections upon the shimmering pool, I wonder if this is what ToddBeamer thought of.
Am I the only one to remember that name?Sure there are countless monuments now,Such as the one I stare at,But who among us still thinks of it?The day was clear, as is this one,And such devastation rained down as to change our lives.Now people rush by, not even stopping.No one takes notice of the plaque,Nor do they compare the shimmering calm,Of this, our monument, to that day that was broken.Upon the radio, I hear a song that moves me,To cry silent tears:“Have you forgotten?”Its words are true, and describe us all,All that is, except me it would seem.The words of a solitary chief resound in my head,For I now know their significance:‘Let us be the ones to remember...’
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Nature PoemAndrew Bell
Sun shines softly over warm grassy fields.Cows grazing amongst fertilized grass.Birds chirping within nests of twigs and leaves.A camper crouched beside a burning flame forwarmth as a full moon passes overhead, causinga wolf on a hill to howl, signaling his locationto the pack.Morning arrives, the camper leaves, and in his place come twenty more.They arrive in giant red trucks, alarms blaring as bright yellow suits emerge.The birds no longer chirp, scorched corpses and burnedfeathers rest beside piles of ashes that were once theirhomes. No longer do the cows graze in the fields,led away by farmers to protect their own prosperity.Night falls and the moon rises into an ashes sky.The wolf has fled this land of desolation,nothing remains for him here.A simple careless spark was all it took,left unchecked by a single man.Human intrusion into a peaceful scene leavesbehind nothing but desolation in its wake.
Human stupidity reigns supreme.
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Who Knows a Happy Moment?Autumn Cooper
Who knows a happy moment?A mother that feels her child from somewhere deep insideWho knows a happy moment?A dad that gets a glimpse of his child that will soon be his sonWho knows a happy moment?A grandparent that hears the glorious news, a child will be reared that stemsfrom their youthWho knows a happy moment?Everyone around because they feel a joy that an arrival is coming and it issomething brand newWho knows a happy moment?Anyone that is touched with the news it is an overwhelming feeling for aninstant or twoWho knows a happy moment?The child that is torn from everything soft, safe, and warm; sorry littlefellow you have to be born
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Farewell, LouiseAutumn Cooper
You came into my life when I needed someone most,I was in a rut and you showed me how to hang out and have fun,you were an awesome host.
You gave me a release and with threw caution to the wind,we had a wonderful time and committed to be friends.
We shared many times and being sneaky was great andI learned the best path isn’t always straight.
I soon learned it was all a crazy game you where playing,as much fun as we had you never intended on staying.
I know our time was short and the game would have to end,I wished you could have stayed if only as my friend.
I keep our memories somewhere safe in my mind and I bring them out from time to time.
Our time together will always make me smile andI hope you smile too every once in a while.
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Can You Hear Me?Tamara Kharabora
Can you hear me?I am the Scream from a nightmare,I am the Tears of a broken heart.
Can you hear me?I am the Bruise of an abused child,I am the Pieces of a shattered soul.
Can you hear me?I am the Bang of the gun,
I am the Dripping of the blood.Can you hear me?
I am the Gasp of panic,I am the Silence of death.
Can you hear me?
Grand Canyon
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BabyTamara Kharabora
My baby, my life, my world.You were the smile on my face,I lived just to meet your needs.
A small creature living inside me,You were my soul.
Such beauty you would have been,Nature weeps at its loss.
You were a whisper in my body,In and out you went.
You brought joy to those who knew you,In anticipation they awaited your arrival.
But then you never came,Your breath I felt no more.
From my body you were ripped,Baby, silent and frozen in time.
My baby, my life, my world.
Aruba Island
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A Murderer’s SymphonyTamara Kharabora
I saw you on the streets that day,The street lights shining on your hair.A picture of beauty you stood there,
Not noticing or caring how they stared.You walked home and I followed you all the way to the doorstep,
You had no clue of the murderous bitterness coiling inside me.I crept in the shadows and waited for you to turn off the lights,
In the dark I prepared my tool of torture.The moonlight guiding me in my mission of revenge,Little by little I crept to a window and climbed inside.
Slowly I made my way to your room,Raising my hand, I whispered your name.
Your screams rang out like music through the house,Stab after stab the music died down.
Sitting back and smiling, I marvel at my work,A masterpiece of a murderer’s symphony.
Face in the Rock
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I’m SorryTamara Kharabora
I never meant to hurt you.I never meant to make you cry.I never meant to say I love you,
and have you find out I lied.
I needed to forget my ugliness,in a world so beautiful.I needed to be loved,
even when I was unlovable.
After years of tears and depression,I wanted to be happy.
You told me to settle down,and think about my future.
I wanted to be free!
I dreamed of a day I would smile sincerely.Yet night after night,I cry myself to sleep.
I dreamed that I was a better person,yet my ugliness seeps out,
to blot the world once more
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Types of TearsTamara Kharabora
Tears of joy and Tears of accomplishment.Nights of loneliness are now filled with events.
Tears of pain and abandonment.Left at home once more,
Knowing you are a embarrassment to them.Trying to bridge a gap that has become too wide.
Tears of uselessness and Tears of shame.Knowledge that you can’t do anything and not worth much.
Things once held in value are now broken.Tears of frustration and anger.
Can’t they understand the need to get out!Why can’t they see that I am dying inside!
Tears of fear and Tears of cowardness.Fearing all the changes and ways of life.
Hating the fact that I can’t be open and fear saying what’s on my mind.Tears of self disgust.
How did I end up this way?Pathetic even to oneself, hiding from mirrors.
Tears, oh the many tears we cry.
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In Your DeathTamara Kharabora
I watch in anticipation as your life seeps out.Your body freezing minute after minute.
Gently I take your stiff, cold hands.In death, I love you even more.
Blood pounding through my head as I kiss your still lips.Touching your cold body,Mine heats up in desire.
In death, I want you even more.Your pain I still feel deeply.
Watching your doll-like gaze,I comfort you with my words.
Let me hold you and feel your coolness against my skin.In death, I care even more.
Is it wrong for me to love, want, and care when your life is no more?Your cold, dead body more beautiful to me than life itself.
Your lips a tender blue, wishing to kiss them till the end of time.In death, I need you even more.
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DeathTamara Kharabora
Death visits all nations and all faces.Death does not care if you are old or not,
It will never discriminate races.Faces, blackened, and are all left to rot.
Nothing will block this very deadly path.People laugh and disregard the power
that death has over those caught in its wrath.What about those that died in the tower?
You think they knew that death would take their lives?No one has a clue when the end will come.
Feel the pain of the unfortunate wives,That heard the end of the life beating drum.
We need to live our lives to the fullest,For one day, death will make it the dullest.
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Searching by the WaterSunny J. Murray
Walking through the nighttime forestUsing only the moonlight to see,I hear every little creature -In the grass and in the trees.Do they know what I’m looking for?Do they know why I’m here?I haven’t been here in so long,Time has lost it through the years.As I travel beyond the forestTo a clearing out of the dark,I see a lake before meAnd the willow that bears my mark.When I was young, I made a vowTo never, ever change.I would not be corruptedBy the forces of time and age.I came to the lake-as I always had-Where the thirsty willow restAnd shouted to the gentle moonThe troubles on my chest.“Moon!” I shouted, “Do you hear me?In the time that I have spent,I have learned from happiness and tragedyAnd with that I am content!I admit I’m not experiencedAnd the pains and pleasures were not my ownBut I refuse to have these feelingsOut of fear of the unknown!I wish to be unchangedIn what I believe and what I feel.I will carve my sign on this treeTo seal this virgin deal!”Not long after that night’s vow,Time and I began our fight.In those years, I learned one thing-Things are not just Black & White.The trees are green with envyAnd when the seasons changeTheir leaves-yellow with fear and red with anger-At first seem rather strange.I noticed this in everyone.I noticed this in me.I too felt these things:
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Anger, Fear, and Envy.I could tell that I was different.And hung my head in shame.I felt that I was rightBut I didn’t feel the same.I finally decided to returnTo the willow by the lakeAnd tell the moon he broke our deal.Did he not know what was at stake?I traveled to the forest-Among the animals in the trees.The muddy earth hugged my feet.My skin-kissed by the breeze.As I wandered in the woods,Through the dark, a light did break.It was the shining moonAbove the willow and the lake.I charged towards the silent lakeAnd at its bank, I began to kneel.Floating nearby on a lilly padWas a scroll-my mark its seal.I unrolled the mysterious scrollTo read the words inside.The first words that I read were:“To Whom I Must Confide:Unaware you are of your teachings.”It continued, “I hope you’ll understand.You haven’t changed who you are.You’re mind has started to expand.Your early lessons are your foundation.From those, you cannot hide.Use them to understand yourself.Use them as your guide.In life, if you stay unchanged,You deprive yourself of much.You’ll always be closed-mindedAnd will be very hard to touch.Remember you foundation.Remember to be strong.Never limit what you can learn.Remember what’s right and what’s wrong.I wish to tell you one more thing,Since you’ve always been a friend:A person who never sees beyond the horizonWill have an incomplete end.”
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As I Stand HereStacey Rogers
As I stand here, looking around, I see you.I see the first time we met.
I see the first time we kissed.I see the love in your eyes.
As I stand here, looking around, I feel you.I feel the first time we met.
I feel the first time we kissed.I feel the love in your heart.
As I stand here, looking around, I remember.I remember the first time we met.
I remember the first time we kissed.I remember the first time we said, “I love you!”
As I stand here, looking at you, I will say, “I do!”
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What If Love...Dawn Glenn
If love had wings I could fly...Away with you in the northern sky.To the deepest oceans of blue...Where I could mend the broken heart of two...
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The Secret We ShareDawn Glenn
Creep around the cornerI’m here way in the backhiding in the darkness.
He’ll come again.Mommy’s off working hardand he’ll come again,it’ll be time to share again...the little secret that we shareit’s hush, hush so don’t tell.Mommy will be home soon...I hope.
I wonder if she knows and doesn’t care,or if she really doesn’t see me there.
Last week while she was goneI brought “daddy” my report card...Almost all A’s, only one BBut it wasn’t enough.
I’m a big kid, so I can take it.that blow to the back of my head didn’t hurt somuch this time.I learned those bruises go away in a while.He says he doesn’t mean it.then he says he’s sorry again.we share our secret again...
I think my teacher knowsand I’m sure Mr. Jones knows,he has to hear the screaming.
I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me.So I try to be good.But it isn’t seeming to work.
I’m just about to end 3rd grade.I had an accident.The little boy didn’t mean to hurt mebut this time I struck him hard...Something of a conclusion.
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Daddy knows now.The boy’s parents are going to sue.Daddy is real mad at me,So I hide in the corner, I’m here way in the back...hoping he won’t see me.
As I take the hits and blows to my bodymy head hit the floorI don’t see much.Daddy’s cursing a lot as I lay there.Mommy should be home soon.I don’t think she’ll be happy with me.
If someone would have said somethingIf they could have stopped it...
I’d be well on my way to 4th grade now!
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When I Look at YouDawn Glenn
When I look at you, I see your smile.When I look at you, I see your soul.When I look at you, I hear bells.When I look at you, I feel my heart pound.When I look at you, I want to knock you down!When I look at you, I want to kiss you,When I look at you, I want you...When I look at you, I miss you.When I look at you, I see heavenWhen I look at you, I see perfectionWhen I look at you, I see my reflection.When I look at you, I know the reason for your deceptions.When I look at you, I sometimes frown...When I look at you, I sometimes feel down.When I look at you, I love you more every day!When I look at you, I feel like I’m in heaven each day.When I look at you, I feel.
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The OceanDawn Glenn
Have you ever seen the ocean?Have you ever seen it in the sunlight?Have you ever seen it in the night?Have you ever sent your broken heart out...with the tides of the sea?The ocean’s depth can save your soul!You can let your love go...out with the sea...You can go with me.Have you ever seen until you couldn’t?Have you ever sat there,where you’re on the edge of forever,and all you see is eternity?That is what the ocean is for me.
Panama City
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Snap ShotDawn Glenn
Guilty eyes,filled with joy and glee.With utter amazement at your discoveryyou screech with laughteryour hand full of sweetsrunning, not so graceful just yet.and I smile to see it’s not guilt in your eyes I see,It is pride and joyof a new discovery...CANDY!I take a picturea snapshot of this momentto remember and enjoy as you get older.and those eyes- innocent and sweet.When they once again look guiltyI can look at this moment... this snap shotand smile.No matter what you’ve done.
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PillsMelissa Rymer
Pills in the bottle make a playful sound like a box of candy.I shake out the pills and listen to the noise.The noise is simply a melody to my pain.Your words cut me like a razor.My skin still burns where I was cut.You’ll never know what happened.I will simply walk into the labyrinth of pain and death and simply lose myself.I swallow the rest of the pills as I picture the celebration of my death.I found the center and I lay down.Be happy.I am now.
Grand Canyon
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Snow DayChristina Lynn
I look out the window and still try tolisten to my professor, but it is so hard.The snow is so beautiful. I want to beoutside dancing and twirling in it. I wantto lie on the ground, pick a single snowflake,and watch until it touches the freezingearth.
The wind blows the snowflakes so it lookslike they are dancing. They dance to anunheard melody. They swirl around in thecrisp, clean air like a ballerina performinga graceful dance.
White snowflakes, the color white, the colorof purity. They are so clean, so peaceful.Black out the sounds of the world andlisten to the silence of the snow falling.Do not think, just watch. Feel the coldflakes fall on your face, sticking to youreyelashes. Stick out your tongue and catchone. Do not worry if someone is watching;invite them to join you. Taste the purityof God’s gift to us today.
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PeopleTalia Dunn
Some people are square
But most people are crazy
No one cares, but you
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StormJessee Mason
Thunder crashes down, rattling my bonesA trickle of water seeps down the inside of my tentLightning crashes, I can see the treesSkeletal sentries standing guardThe roar of a thousand freight trains echoes in my earsAnother peek out the tent flapAll is calmI make my body as small as possibleAnd try to cover my headAll hell is about to break looseThe twister touches down fifty feet from meThen skips over meI hear trees falling, screamingThen all is quiet againThe skeletal sentries have been slainBy Mother Nature’s heavy swordBut, lo, new life begins from the bodies of the old
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WarJessee Mason
About Face!Break away from yourChildish waysDo not look backEverything is wiped outForget the pastGod cannot help you nowHell is your destinationIn the WWII ArmyJust give your life for your countryKill the enemiesIf you make it through alive, we’llMake you an officerNever forget to clean your gunOr to write your Mama and your girlPut on dry socksQuit your complainingRecruit! Now,Shut up and march!The enemy is waitingUnder the haze of fogVeritable forces to be reckoned withX-RAY Company, move out!You may not be there longZULU Company has your back
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Once Upon a Time in MexicoDavid Ballew
The story began a long, long, looooong time ago, down in good oldMexico. Our protagonist’s name is Paco. Now let me describe Paco to you.Our guy Paco here is short, compared to you an’ me, but about normal forguys of his kind. He has tan skin, which is quite a bit crusty. But, if youwere a blind man, the first thing you would notice was his smell. Pacosmells like beef, with a hint of cheese an’ lettuce. An’ the guy is wider thanhe is tall.
Now, before you go an’ say, “I ain’t a-readin’ this story, cuz theguy that wrote it, he’s a-wonadem racem’ists, all makin’ fun o’ them guys inMexico,” you have to realize three things. First off, I didn’t say all Mexi-cans were short, had crusty skin, or even that they all smell like beef an’lettuce. I was only describing Paco for you. Second, I also called him theprotagonist, meaning he is in a place of honor, an’ I wasn’t insulting him.Third, you have to realize that Paco is a taco, an’ the sole purpose of a greatmany tacos is to be crusty an’ smell like beef, cheese, an’ lettuce. That an’ tofill up an empty stomach.
However, our guy Paco is not that kind of taco. He has ambitions,dreams, an’ a great sense of personality. Paco is a lonely, wandering taco.According to my well-placed an’ artfully disguised spies, Paco has spentmost of his life wandering the dusty, sparsely vegetated wilderness ofMexico. An’ sometimes, he just sits there for a while an’ doesn’t really doanything. But mostly, he wanders.
Now the funny thing about Paco is he is a taco. An’ you might notthink that is very funny, but if you ever saw a taco wandering through thesan’ an’ cacti, you would probably be a bit weirded out. But anyway, after anumber of years, Paco began to tire of the same old scenery, so he decidedto hop the fence around his small back yard an’ wander somewhere else.But there was just one problem: having no legs makes it a bit hard to hopfences, hop candlesticks, or even hopscotch. So, after a moment of deepreflection, Paco used the gate his uncle had put in while Paco had beenplaying checkers.
After wandering a few months, Paco came upon a magical musicstore. Deciding that he needed a nice tune for his wandering, Paco bought aFrench horn that was just screaming his name. As Paco left the store theFrench horn said, “Thanks man, I’ve been dying to get out of that place.”Then he told Paco his life story. “I’m Rocky.” He said, “I am a French horn,but I’ve always wanted to be a bugle, because nobody likes the French,even me. That is all.” An’ so the wandering continued.
Then one day, way up in the mountains, Paco an’ Rocky encoun-tered a gnomeatic hobo. The guy was three feet, twelve an’ a quarter inchestall. His house was a knapsack. He was The Gnomeatic Hobo. That is what
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the wanted posters said anyhoo. Nobody knew his real name, except thewanted the hobo himself an’……Paco! Paco approached the hobo an’ said,“So, Señor Itis, we meet again!” To which the hobo replied, “Yep.” ThenPaco said, “You ate my father, prepare to die!” To which the Señor Itisreplied, “Yep,” an’ then, “Your father was a good taco, Paco. In fact, he wasthe last good meal I have eaten in years.” An’ Paco said, “You will pay forthat!”
An’ sp the battle ensued. Or at least it almost did. Paco kickedsome dust at Señor Itis, an’ the hobo stuck out his tongue in a rude gesture.Then Rocky whispered to Paco, “Hey, man, aren’t you a taco just like yourfather?” Paco whispered in answer, “Yep. ‘Cept Pa was a soft taco deluxewith chicken, an’ I am crunchy with beef an’ less sour cream just like Ma.”An’ rocky said, “Can’t the hobo eat you too then?” So Paco said, “Yep.Let’s run like crying little babies. Scaredy ones too.” An’ so they ran. SeñorItis ran after them, yelling, “Wait! Come back! I want to eat you!” Then heremembered that he was allergic to crunchy tacos anyhoo, an’ French hornsare too hard to chew easily.
In time, Paco an’ Rocky ended up wandering into the UnitedStates. Rocky went to Bugle Camp an’ after lots of hard work an’ dedica-tion, became a bugle. Together Paco an’ Rocky set up a hot new food chain,called “Taco Bugle,” an’ served over 3.5 billion. Señor Itis, suffering fromAlzheimer’s forgot about his encounter with Paco the taco an’ Rocky an’started teaching underwater basket weaving at a university in northeastWisconsin, after bribing the border guards with Jell-O to get into the U.S.But that is a different story.
Niagra Falls
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Family PortraitJohn C. Mannone
after Uncle Frank’s Chicken
Like a jigsaw puzzle, our livesConvoluted fragments strive
Resolute to connect, intersectOur two-dimensionalityFilled with each other
So when you step backYou won’t see the cracksJust the smiles.
My son at Dollywood
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Let Everything That Has BreathJohn C. Mannone
Hollow pipes stand in solemn silenceglints of light and shadowreveal cluster of lengthsarranged in amphitheater rows
In quiet, waitfor movement of ivory and blackpressed togetherin one accordResonatelike amplified thrum of hummingbird’s wingsnotes flutter out as butterfliesperch on stain-glistened glassharmonize in vibrant color
Like hallowed voices
Standingwaves of praiseecho in cathedral vaultsexalt as I, theMighty Fortress
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Star PartyJohn C. Mannone
Night dresses for the party.Brushes her hair, wavywith milky swathseen with galactic sheen.Powders her face with stellar dust,and blush, the pink of cloudsof ubiquitous gas.Rummages cosmic jewel box forfire white Sirius, scintillatinglike a zirconium pendanthung around her neck, accentedby marble beads of Mars,Jupiter, and Saturn, interspersedwith pearls from constellation seas.Imagine her heavenly scent,Sweet Influences of Pleiades,dabbed just above her neckline.Draped in garment of light and lofted high,with all her sparkle, she turns to look;her courtiers down below,like a row of anxious bachelors,lined up for the dancewith her reflection in their eyes.
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Fire PolishedJohn C. Mannone
sweat-mingled tearscradled in the secret darkof my handstides of convulsing shamesurging waves of crippling hurtbatter ramparts of my heartas the storm rages
through clouds of tearsand blinding darkflickering flames of scarletflash like lightningshards of fire goldcaptured strobesmy eyes intensifydarkness piercing gleamsreveal the shadow crowned
stretched
across the beamscloaked with blaze
my face once marred with despairnow transfiguredas if fire polishedhope uncovered
Iunderstoodin quiet painthe silhouettehad beckonedmy gaze to fallupon the pile of ashat the base of the cross.
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i thinkJessica Kohler
i think about You.every day when i wake
i remember the perfect life you lead,never giving in to any temptation
yet knowing You would still pay the pricefor me,
for my depraved soul,and for every moment of weakness
that i shall succumb to today.i think about You.
i think about fear.how scared You must have been
carrying all the sin of all the world,not knowing what exactly would happenmerely that You would be the sacrifice,
praying for courage and assurancethat even though You had to suffer
it wouldn’t be for too longand that in the end people would know
that You were doing it for them,for me.
i think about fear.
i think about pain.having to walk up a mountain
with wounds all over Your broken body,carrying a heavy cross,carrying a heavy heart,
thorns clenched to your skullcold sharp steel tearing your perfect flesh,
all because You did nothingbut adore the souls of humanity,
and me, my sinful soul.i think about pain.
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i think about love.in its purest, most genuine form,
knowing that one of Your beloved would betray You,You took him in and cared for him
the same way that You did me,despite my weaknesses
and the ugly parts of me that only You knowYou took me in
and You love me unconditionally,knowing that i would only betray You.
i think about love.
thank You.
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LoveLindsey Bartolai
Love is crazyLove is blindLove is suddenLove takes time
Love can slowly creep upon youLove can quickly fade awayLove takes work and dedicationLove is why some people stay
Love can break somebody’s heartLove can tear someone in twoLove can brighten someone’s lifeLove can make them come unglued
Love can open up new doorsLove can shut somebody outLove can be confusingLove will make you scream and shout
Love can find two peopleLove can turn their worlds aroundLove is an indefinable thingyou are lucky if you’ve found.
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Mi Amor EsBrian Aparicio-Rascon
Mi amor es mas que una muchachay es mucho mas que una dona.Ella es mas que una razon paralevantarme todas las mananas.
Ella me da razones para vivir.Ella me da rezones pare sentir
el amor que me falta, que pierdo de vistalo busque en ella, se la dare en esta dia.
Ella es toda que quiero recorder.Ella es toda que quiero amar.
Ella gano mi Corazon, para mi este suerte.Ya lo tiene, hasta el dia de mi muerte.
English TranslationMy Love Is
My love is more than a girlAnd she is more than a woman
She is more than a reasonTo wake up in the morning
She gives me a reason to liveShe gives me a reason to feel
The love that I lack, that I lost sight ofI found it in her; I will give it to her today
She is everything that I want to rememberShe is everything that I want to loveShe won my heart, for me this is luck
She has it now, until the day of my death.
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Haikus (Part 1)Ryan Leonard
History of the Class Part I
History class yeah!
The story of dead people
Love it? Yea buddy!
History of the Class Part II
Dead people are fun
I learn the ways of losers
History class yeah
Disney World
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Haikus (Part 2)Ryan Leonard
Lunch Room Fun Part I
I sit in Lunch room
Man beside me draw a car
Someone shoot me please
Lunch Room Run Part II
Man in fur hat laugh
Looking at picture you draw
He think your art suck
Disney World
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Lunch Room LamentRyan Leonard
Ah, the Lunch room, a place
where almost no one eats.
They ask questions that no one
Wants to answer, we play games
and share uncomfortable moments.
Youth steeped in ignorance.
They laugh at gas, we talk
for hours about nothing.
Man I need some new friends!
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My Marine
Amy Steinbecker
To be a man tall and brave
To show pride in your country; in all that you gave
There is a reason for all that you do
It shows in America all the way through
I hate that you have to go
But it’s for our freedom, that I know
The few, The proud, My Marine
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AngelKatie Healy
(En Español)
Una persona estupenda ha venido a mi vidaCuando mi vida estaba llena de dolor y conflicto.¿Estoy soñando o es la realidad?¿Por qué he sentido tanto dolor que es difícil sentir?
Me pregunto porque me has sido enviadoY por cuánto tiempo estarás conmigo.Para mí es muy difícil confiar en ti,Con las memorias de mi pasado.Porque tengo miedo de que estas memorias me vayan a alejar de ti.
Tú me has enseñado a olvidarme de mi pasado y a sonreír.Y eso ha sido algo que he necesitado hacer por mucho tiempo.Tú eres mi ángel,Del cual yo no sé por qué o cómo te merezco.Entonces por el momento voy a seguir esperandoQue no estoy soñando y que es realidad.
(In English)
A wonderful person has come into my lifeWhen my world was filled with pain and strifeAm I dreaming or is this real?Because I’ve been hurt so much it’s hard to feel.
I wonder why you were sent to me,And how long you will be around.It’s hard for me to trust you,With the memories of the past.Because I fear they will push you away.
You have taught me to move on from my past and to smile.And that’s something I’ve needed to do for a long time.You are my wonderful angel,Of which I don’t know why or even how I deserve you.So for now I will keep hoping that I am not dreaming and that this is real.
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The RaincoatKatie Healy
It was a rainy day unlike any other. The sky had darkened with anobvious presence of foreshadowing danger. Bright flashes of lighteningilluminated the sky, loud booming thunder crashes vibrated the whole earth. Iawoke from a nightmare, or at least what I thought had been one.
The strangest thing was, however, I was not in my bed. I was still inmy raincoat on a cot with a sheet and the absence of my soft down comforterand my mountain of pillows. Yet even stranger “Puddles,” the dog I haddreamt about, was laying there staring up at me. I began to panic slightlywhile taking it all in. Maybe it wasn’t a nightmare after all. As I lookedaround, there were many people here sleeping. I was confused…was I in thehospital, but where were the doctors? I thought to myself, “How did I gethere? Where was my family? I was only eleven years old. Why would theyleave me in such a horrible place?” and then I remembered.
Tears began to flush down my face. I knew now that the nightmarewas indeed a reality…I was all alone now.
It must have kept raining, for when I woke up it was the same wayas it was when it happened, except now they were gone. As I sat on my cotwith my new friend Puddles, I retraced my memory of the tragedy that waspulling on my soul.
It was a cold morning, rainy and dark. The sky held a menacinganger that seemed to be taking out its vengeance on us all. I woke up like anyother day to the sounds of my mother singing, “Wake up my sleepy head,”and my groans and sighs of another wretched day at grammar school. Shebrought me my breakfast: pancakes—my favorite…she also then warned meto make sure I wore my raincoat, for it was raining like cats and dogs, shereported.
As I got ready for school, I had not one clue that my life could beany different. The thought of disaster or change never entered my naïvewondering mind. As I got dressed, Dad knocked on the door and said that heand Mom were taking me to school today; they had a meeting for thecompany this morning. He then said for me to be ready in ten minutes andthat he and Mom would be waiting in the car.
Before I knew it, we were in the car and off to another day. Daddywas speeding through the rain like it was a day of sunshine bliss; but no, hewas just in a hurry. Mother even seemed tense about something. I just keptstaring out the window, watching the rain wash over the windows, blurringlife outside the car. The rain was so calming to look at yet always so dark andmysterious. I looked up at Daddy and saw that he forgot his seatbelt. I went toremind him to put it on, but it was already too late. Screeching sounds ofbrakes and the car began to spin like a merry go round. Mother was crying,and then all the sudden the car made a final crash and stopped, and glass was
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shattering everywhere. It was silent. Mother was bleeding; most of her headwas outside of the window…she didn’t move when I cried out to her. Daddywas no longer in the car; I looked up to see the entire windshield broken out.Blood covered the edges of the broken windshield. I cried in desperation,shaking my mother for her to please wake up. No answer; her eyes were openand staring at me like she had something to say, but she was silent. I quicklyeased out of the car to find Daddy so he could help me wake up Mother. Ifound my daddy, and he wasn’t able to help either…there he was about 20yards from the car lying in a pool of blood in the middle of the road. He wassilent with no breath; he didn’t move when I called him; he didn’t move whenI shook him; he didn’t move when I cried and told him how much I lovedhim. I laid there holding my daddy in the pouring rain hoping that this was anightmare. In all the confusion, out of nowhere this puppy who I named“Puddles” came to where I laid there with my daddy and began licking thetears from my face, and the rain poured down harder. I heard the sirens. Ididn’t know what to do. I panicked and thought they may blame me or takeme somewhere awful, so I kissed my mother and father and ran away… I wascrying and all alone. The tearsbegan to block my view, so Isat down with Puddles, and wefell asleep in the alley.
Now I am here in thisdark room on a cot withPuddles. He is all I have now.“Where did he come fromanyway?” I thought. He musthave been an angel, sent to mefrom Mother and Daddy. Inamed him Puddles because Iknow I cried even morepuddles than the rain that day,and he was there to be there forme because my parents couldnot. I held him close to me inmy raincoat; most of myclothes were dry now… But notmy eyes, they would be wet forquite sometime. Deep insidewas the ache as if a lightningblot had struck me down thatday. The nightmare was nolonger a nightmare but a realitythat I had to face. At least I stillhad my raincoat.
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Wounded RoseJulie Fulbright
Do You know where I’ve been?Do You see my wounded stem?Planted from a seed,Harshly growing like a weed,You held me in your palm.You set me in the sun.You nourished my roots.You watched as I bloomed.
I crashed from my vase onto thecold darkness of the floor.You picked me up andbandaged my soul.Yet my life’s blood was dying.Replanting my bruises,Sweeping up my tears of dew,You released me to the world.I was glad to see a new view.
Yet now I ache for the giver of life.I have faded and wait for spring.May Mother Earth find me soOnce again I may sing.
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