THIRTY-SEVEN CENTS ACHIEVES VARIETY IN
POETS AND POEMS
Our online chapter, Thirty-Seven Cents, includes
ten poets from several different locations. We have five
members from Missouri and five from out of state. Our Missouri
members come from Bolivar, Eldon, Pleasant Hope, Springfield, and
Washington. Two of our out-of-state members come from Arkansas,
we have one each from Kansas and Wyoming, and our tenth member comes
from Saskatchewan, Canada. We have members who have been writing
poetry for years, and at least two who have just begun. We
have poets who write free verse principally; we have poets who write
formal verse principally. Our assignments each month will challenge
us to try poems we can do easily and some that will be hard for us
because we have not written than type before. You are encouraged
to write these assigned poems whether you get them done on time for
the next issue or not. Send them in whenever you finish them.
Meanwhile, don't forget the other activities of the Missouri State
Poetry Society. Visit the state site to get details on the MSPS
Winter Contest that has a February 15 deadline. Copies of the January
1 issues of the state newsletter, Spare Mule, and the national
newsletter, Strophes, will be available on their sites
soon. Listed below are the contents of this issue and addresses
you will need.
Tom Padgett, Editor
CONTENTS: Reactions to Previous Issue Missouri State
Poetry Society
National Federation of State Poetry
Societies
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REACTIONS TO PREVIOUS ISSUE
Home | Workshop "What a delight to be in cyber space! . . . The page is lovely, so congratulations to the artist and you." Barbara Magerl, Overland Park, Kansas "Very nice! It transmitted beautifully." Harding Stedler, Cabot, Arkansas "I love your new 37-cents web site. . . . Special congrats to the photographer. Beautiful pictures! Beverly Conklin, Bella Vista, Arkansas CHRISTMAS CARD FROM NFSPS PRESIDENT:
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POEMS BY MEMBERS Home | Workshop PROCESSION OF A HUNDRED LEGS (Harding Stedler) Winter arrives on backs of centipedes in a frantic rush for refuge. Scampering legs move single-file in search of warmth. November surrenders its yellow and bare trees shiver in the face of advancing winds. All that can crawl want in. In a hundred legs, I gauge my days and dress accordingly. I curl as centipedes do, yearning to return to the womb. DON'T STEP ON THE CRACK (Barbara Magerl) The frail gray-haired woman walked up the hill, Eyes focused down on the sidewalk Lest she make a wrong step. A sashay-- A cautious cat's paw stretch with her foot-- An abrupt halt to examine the surface, Whatever was needed to avoid A damning misstep where a fissure appeared. Oblivious to others, She heeded the childhood rhyme And zig- zagged her way home To the lonely mysterious house, Careful not to break A long-gone mother's back. LOST POEMS? (Wesley Willis) Undiscovered poems engulfed in flames, Verses curdle upward in crackling fire, Some poems survived authors' unknown names, Sentimental, vanished moments now just mired. Captured on outspread wings of eagles, Soaring from mountains to arching rainbows Like oceans skirted by songs of seagulls As spring-summer-fall-winter nature knows. In rhythm lost words of heart and soul, Untouched emotions danced atop cliffy waves, In viscid surf tossed about to and fro, Recaptured symphony or settled in graves. As dew drops floating in eternal bliss, Songs sung from needles of whispering pines, Expelled from a rose with a moistened kiss, Relinquished or revitalized from our minds. Gentle poems, each soft caressing snowflake, Lost poems with beauty hungered after, Great as the mighty soul-shaking earthquake, Bring joy with a childhood of synonymous laughter. THE ROSE (Todd Sukany) Once content to chase the sun Gave itself for your pleasure A pruner viewed the line She severed it No longer sharing Now displayed Drinking the long-stem vase Tell me of beauty, value The fragrance that is life And I'll remind you instead That which is by itself Is already dead. ALL YOU WOULD HAVE TO DO (Tammie Bush) All you would have to do is ask and if I had the power I would stop time still the waves of the ocean smooth out a mountain making a clearing for you to lie down beside me and rest in sweet silence I would do this for you if you asked me to I do, however, have the power to stop the living room clock still the waves of my aquarium smooth out the blankets make a clearing for you to lie down beside me and rest in sweet silence I would do this for you if you asked me to |
THE MATRIX OF A WORD (Jean Even) Words, where do they come from? Sounds made from a voice, Lines formed with a pen, Who invented the words we know? Words to say I love you so, Describe an alabaster sky, Or bring disaster in the day. Words spoken formed the universe. Can words be so powerful? One word can bring birth to a child, Or bring down a king in power. All the bombs in this world have no power, Compared to the power of a word; To say I love you is far better, Than the atomics found in nuclear explosions. Try cracking open the matrix of a word. Energy in purest form creating life, Expanding without boundaries, Power in its truest form Flows from energy into timbre. ALWAYS AND NEVER. (Bev Conklin) A cat will never always. The minute that you think she has a certain routine, it all goes down the sink. For an entire three weeks she had her favorite box. Almost lived in it, but now avoids it, like dirty socks. Bought her a great new bed. Couldn’t get her out of it. Once it was aired and brushed, she went into a snit. Now it's used for storing toys, the ones no longer used. Time to find a new way to keep Herself amused. No, a cat will never always, but life is not a bore. She keeps me always hopping, ‘cause I never know the score. FEELING CHRISTMAS (Tom Padgett) Awake to snow on glowing ground, in glee we find our world sublime and set old records spinning round to reel in gold of Christmas time. We hear the radio announce the schools have closed, so in our den with eggs and toast we settle down to celebrate good will toward men. And then the startling telephone, that evil instrument in black, evokes a world outside our own-- the dentist's office calling back. His many cancellations mean that both my wife and I today can get the dentistry we need-- will thirty minutes be okay? Awash in slush enough to cache the car, we park and trek resigned to fill his cavities so he can reel in gold at Christmas time CRANKY ABOUT WINTER (Tania Gray) I don’t like an old house if it’s a cold house losing heat I don’t like an old car that can’t get started on a cold day I don’t like a cold day if it’s a wet day frozen solid I don’t like a snowy day if it’s an old snow blackened slush I don’t like an old coat without plaid fleece thick and snug I don’t like an old dog unless it’s my dog by my side I don’t like a hot toddy with lemon and honey without you |
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