POEMS BY MEMBERS
ARKANSAS DIAMONDS
Diane Auser Stefan
Arkansas
shines
Real
diamonds
Kept
just beneath her surface
And
waiting for a wistful miner to
Nudge
and dig and sift and
Sluice
the dirt
Away
to find and share her
Secret.
Diamonds,
yes diamonds, found
In
the Crater of Diamonds State Park
A
quick short stretch from
Murfreesboro,
and proudly the
Only
such site open to the public,
Nurturing
dreams of diamonds
Dug
from dirt, cut and polished
Shining!
THE BEAR
Steve Penticuff
Soft and warm,
the bear that greets us
gently in its night-lite
glow.
Soft, warm, gentle,
meek for sure,
but tangled up
of course: a too familiar
future of animals
loved but forgotten,
or loved then worn
and torn into oblivion.
Brown or black,
the bear that eats us,
feast of life and limb,
but look: with sheens
of gold and orange
or shiny purple.
Beautiful, beautiful,
magnificent if only
we don't panic
and think to see,
think to stroke its fur
and see.
Sharp the claws
that hold us down,
and white the teeth
that pierce the cheek
and crush the bone.
But stained like marble:
see the silent, indelible
tales of wild salmon
and great blackberry
abundance.
Ferocious those eyes
that just behold
another meal, perhaps.
But beautiful.
Divine, divine.
LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THYSELF
Henrietta Romman
It truly hurts God when we shun
Folks He created under the sun.
Harshly or gently we can debate
A person's life, his God-given fate.
Calmly we tend to use God's
love
To judge, as if we are from above!
Is it because our sins are forgiven,
Promised homes are set up in heaven?
Living on earth we
certainly know
Life is a stage for every man's show.
Pause to recall with all true concern,
Heaven will soon give each one his turn.
Surely remember to hold
up your hand,
Stop the chaos consuming God's land!
MARION CATCHES STARS
Gwendolyn Eisenmann
Marion catches stars
when she goes out at night.
So recently come from
their realm, she's at home
in their midst. Holding up
cupped hands to the sky,
she brings me her treasure, reverently;
I take it, hold it, then give it back.
She kisses it, hands still cupped deep
and tosses it high again.
It's simple. I should have
thought of it before.
Mysterious and far, I didn't realize
stars come to those who hold up their hands.
Stars are. Marion knows that.
MOTEL BEDS
Bev Conklin
When motel beds were being
designed,
they hired a top-notch sadist.
When pain's completely unconfined,
his smile is at its gladdest.
Not one spring in the whole
darned thing,
no padding, water, or air:
just cotton lumps as I toss and fling
my body, all night, in despair.
That's not all bad if I've work to do.
In self-defense I'm up at five.
Three cups of coffee, and a poem comes through.
Oh, I'm going to survive!
MEMORIAL MOMENTS
Phyllis Moutray
The bull whizzes in the wind
as the red Ford truck rolls on
toward the local sale barn.
The striped kitten misnamed
Lily,
cuddles and chortles as I rock us
in my well-worn Lazy Boy.
Summer sunrise brightens
eastern sky.
following a sleepless night brought on
by a late reunion with friends.
A noisy sunset backlights
a flock of redwing blackbirds
roosting in an ancient oak tree.
The roiling Pacific around
the bend
sounds like thunder
announcing a summer storm.
A grandbaby belly laughs
in response to his father
tossing him high in the air.
Moments like these
remind me where I am
and where I've been.
TO MEREDITH, 14
Pat Laster
I wish to share with you,
dear niece,
some treasures of my past,
in hopes they will remind
you of the world’s good gifts.
--a smooth, thin, chipped and
shiny shell,
a hole drilled through for camp activity.
Add chain or thong, and it becomes a necklace,
symbol of a shining life, a thankful heart,
a helping hand amid life’s mucky murk.
--this grungy, thickened,
malformed
shell could represent the bumbling, stumbling
folk insisting on their own agendas,
godly or perverted. Side by side,
these shells portray not good and evil, but
our differences—inherent, philosophical.
--a piece of driftwood found
in Florida.
See how it leans as into the wind, the world,
but stands. Its pock-marked, holey-ness
may imitate our strengths and weaknesses
when washed by winds of changing times.
--a polished stone when
turned one way
is wishy-washy, rocking on its side; but turned
another way, sits solidly, reflecting layers,
glistening ochres, browns.
I’m glad you are my niece,
with goal
of saving whales, embodying the kind
of social action needed by our world,
our nations, cities and ourselves.
PRAYER
Laurence W. Thomas
Oh, that I may be able to organize my days
into neat packages of goals set and accomplished
that as I retire I may tie the ribbon on the bundle
and rest untroubled--to know that I don’t need
to look over my shoulder to decide which deity to believe
nor to follow the polls in choosing the next president.
Let me walk the path through wrong decisions alone
rather than taking the course of other people’s choices.
Give me strength to turn from tempting TV ads
or joining organizations to increase their strength
while diminishing mine--to just say no is easy
and there’s an end to it. Grant me the power
and wisdom to know when not to just say yes.
SQUARE DANCING PATTERNS
Jeanetta Chrystie
Caller says boys and girls gather ‘round,
We’ll start dancin’ when you hear the sound
Of music, then you’ll tap your toe,
Clap your hands, and do-si-do–
Your partner, then an allemande left,
Back home to momma, and smile your best.
Now a right and left grand, then promenade
And swing that skirt, with flounces of jade.
Box the map, then allemande bar,
Count of eight, now shoot that star.
Go around one, with this one swing,
Square your set, and make a ring.
Circle left, then hands in the air,
Weave the ring, then half grand square.
Swing your partner, then shake hands.
Yellow rock your corner, then unhand
A ribbon on a maypole, you can say
Now you’ve square danced a Macrame!
WHAT NOT TO BEAR
Tania Gray
It’s hot in Serbia. Eight days of sweat
are imminent. How many shirts and shorts
to take? Deodorant in mini size
to fit in my quart bag, will it suffice?
It’s hot in Serbia, our host has warned.
I think that means we’ll seldom feel a blast
of freoned air. Yet still we’ll promenade
along the Danube. Forty years ago
as newlyweds we lived in Tucson, where
it’s hot. Our car was AC-free, our house
was swamp-box cooled, but still we visited
the Anasazi ruins, bull-fights, San
Xavier. We did it all in temps that killed
some travelers the same time we were there.
It’s hot in Serbia. We’ll seek the shade.
We’ll wear a hat, and be so mesmerized
in Belgrade’s grip we’ll never feel the heat.
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THE BATTLE
Jennifer Smith
There is a battle raging in
this world.
To the souls of men Satan’s darts are hurled.
Though we can’t see the battle strife,
The wounds surround us in our daily life.
Turmoil
and trouble are everywhere.
No peace is found, no respite there.
Battered and bleeding, our hearts are torn
By struggles keen that we have borne.
Many
the folks who ignore the pall.
They refuse to believe it exists at all
Like ostriches with their heads in the sand,
For the strife of battle permeates our land.
Our
innocent children too often fall
The victim of this devilish brawl.
Tragedies abound on every side.
Who then is praying, who will stem the tide?
Oh
brother, listen to the trumpet call.
Take up your armor, lift high your sword.
Bend the knee and pray for the little ones.
The battle calls, and it must be won!
We
wrestle not with flesh and blood
But powers of darkness against our God.
For we must fight in the power of the Lord
Take up His armor, and use His Sword
There
is a battle raging in this world.
To the souls of men Satan’s darts are hurled.
Though we can’t see the battle strife,
The wounds surround us in our daily life.
LEAVING THE NEST
Patsy Colter
We all face the wounds
an empty-nest syndrome leaves.
Mothers put away treasures left behind,
pack away memories for another day.
Children one by one leave the nest,
parents are helpless to protect them.
They must face their challenges, as
they flap their wings and fly.
Not always in the direction
we would like them to go but
relinquishing hold give our best,
asking God to protect them.
Our job is now done, they must
make their own rules and decisions
as they grow into adulthood.
As a tight band squeezes our heart,
we know we must let go and let them fly.
WHERE EYES
LOOKED UP AT ME
Harding Stedler
Sixty years ago,
I met things born of
country:
houses without plumbing,
unheated bedrooms,
and gravel roads.
Frequently, a nighttime
summons
led me across a moonlit
path
to where a pair of eyes
looked up at me
and I had to choose.
On moonlit nights,
I could look at colored
pictures
between covers of Sears
and Roebuck
and dream of fancy
sweaters
and Christmas sleds.
On stark dark nights,
I carried a flashlight
for my browsing.
I lived in fear
that city relatives would
someday come
but would not understand
and that I would be
embarrassed.
I lived in fear
that I would be the
occupant
when vandals came
to topple the 4 X 5
on Halloween.
Ultimately, indoor
plumbing came
to accommodate all
squatters,
and everyone had to learn
to flush
in a place not nearly so
quaint
as the home of the
crescent moon.
UPRISING
Mark Tappmeyer
"Can the pot say of the potter,
'He knows nothing'?"
Isaiah 29:16
We're told
we're clay,
yet we itch
to spin our trays of clay
and mold our lumps
our own way.
But as potters
emerged from clay,
we've no idea,
mute as mud,
what we're to say,
thick as bricks,
what we're to do,
for clay's inert,
ever having been
a derivative of dirt.
SOLACE IS A TWO-WAY STREET
Faye Adam
To give comfort to a friend
(or stranger for that matter)
is one of life's treats.
To watch worry lines
disappear and a smile
begin; to share a hug
and send them off
with a load less heavy-
gives my step a spring,
sends my spirit to the clouds.
Better than a cheesecake
brownie or a double-dip
caramel sundae.
RUMINATION AT CANNIBAL INN
Todd Sukany
Since
you have been gone an eternity
and table staff specialed meat stew
mortified, I just read, "Cooked Before You."
JOLIET AND MARQUETTE
Cindy Tebo
fish-tailed
piasa bird
repainted on a bluff
so many truths are devoured by
legends
THE ARKANSAS RAZORBACK
Pat Durmon
No Arkansas games in high July—
so the radio is mute.
By pure accident, my husband
and I spot a curious, coal-black
critter with a narrow body
and sharp-ridged back
pushing his way through thicket
and weeds at the edge of the woods
as we drive past to our place.
It’s a wild hog, he says as he slows,
and the hog whirls and disappears.
To me, the hog looked dazed
like a sleepy child, benign
and coming out of the dark.
But a razorback, the meanest hog
in the world, is known to outrun
any deer on the Ozark mountains.
Not one Bambi is safe.
We leave him there without a word.
OPEN HEAVEN'S GATE
Jean Even
Come, Holy Spirit,
And show me this wonderful thing.
Open Heaven’s gate
For angels of God to come and go.
Let down Your heavenly ladder,
The one that Jacob saw,
And let me hear my Father’s voice
In wonderful timbre ring.
When the time comes for me,
Please open the gate of heaven.
I may not see the land of Bethel
Where Jacob had his dream
Or go to Mt. Olivet
Where angels will blow their trumpets
On the day of resurrection
When Jesus comes to claim His own.
Come, Holy Spirit;
Teach me the way I should go in God’s will.
I know I’m more than the lilies
When it comes to raiment to wear.
Like the birds that toil not,
I know God will provide meat for me to eat.
Lead me into His righteous peace
So I can come unto God again.
IN CELEBRATION
Judy Young
The sky
Explodes into brilliance,
Reds and oranges
Forcing notice,
In celebration
Of the successful
Accomplishment
Of completing
Another day.
HAVE A GOOD TRIP, ME!
Tom Padgett
I’ve worked
hard, played hard by the book,
and won’t be paid a lickspittle fee--
I've earned a big reward, so, look,
I’m taking a trip to Italy.
The days to wait are gathering speed,
but I meet them boldly, grittily;
and hoard the energy I’ll need
next week when I’m in Italy.
Time over there will pass in a flash:
I’ll laugh and wisecrack wittily
and spend my euros ( Italian cash)
on things to bring from Italy.
My Italian
vocabulary, though,
is stiff and small (brittle and wee):
arrivederci
and buon
giorno
are all I can say in Italy.
I’ll visit
Venice, Florence, Rome
enjoying every bit I'll see,
buying cards so when I’m home,
I’ll see what I saw in Italy.
Since trips
improve with each replay,
no one will dare belittle me,
and I’ll impress them when I say
the words I said in Italy:
arrivederci
and buon
giorno.
VISIT WORKSHOP FOR AN
ASSIGNMENT.
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