POEMS BY MEMBERS
UNTITLED IMAGE
Judy Young
through vertical lines of dropping snow
a leaf drifts diagonally
MAINTENANCE Bev
Conklin
House being
re-sided.
It’s high time.
Paint scaling,
just won’t stick
anymore.
Workman here
three weeks now.
“Get ‘er done!”
THANKSGIVING
Pat Laster
The hardwoods during
autumn’s rain and frost
and wind surrender, drop their leaves on earth
to blanket, nourish, turn—the greenness lost.
Those leaves blow free until they find a berth.
Knowing winter lurks,
voles and mice scurry to find shelter.
Geese gather, their
pilgrimage imminent.
While breezes vagabond
through valleys, hills,
all humankind—inside, nest-warm—prepares
to feast, give thanks, and watch for changes in
the hardwoods during autumn’s rain and frost.
HOW HER SOUL SANG
Pat Durmon
I can see her still—
she raced against the clock
and the disease claimed more and more of her.
My sister’s house was leaning
onto itself like barns tilt before they collapse.
Her lidded windows, dark-circled
and open part-way, waited and watched.
It’s all they knew to do.
Her frame, greyed and shriveled, stacked and stirred
the red death seeds inside her.
Bare legs, reduced to bony, blue columns
curled under her cottony gown. As her house
breathed a light snore, she rocked, gently rocked,
back and forth
back and forth
like a dappled light touches stones
through the cottonwoods.
Words of pardon— delicious and nutritious—
all said, all received. We held hands and waited,
my heart on its knees. Her body fought the stormy seas.
Not ready to cave-in and go through the tunnel,
she inhaled air and got a second wind. We lifted songs
and clapped our hands to hymns we knew
by heart. Some would probably say we were mad.
Maybe we were. Her house, not empty,|
startled me over and over
as she altoed without abandon.
Again and again
tangy tears leapt to my eyes.
Late evening, I stepped away
from the nursing home, humming that one hymn
as a fading red and purple sunset
left the sky.
SPEAKING HER MIND
Velvet Fackeldey
Each new year her resolution
is
to speak more clearly and distinctly,
to enunciate each syllable
of every word.
She is intelligent and her speech
should reflect that.
Soon the habits slip back
and she runs words together,
slides into her hillbilly twang,
and the promise to herself
is lost.
Too late she hears herself
and knows she has failed
again.
When the new year comes
she'll try once more
to give voice to the person
she wants to be.
WELCOME (?) SNOWBIRDS
Valerie Esker
In Florida, the winters
don't bring ice
or snow, or need to stack up kindling wood.
Instead, cold sends the snowbirds to what's nice.
They want a piece of southern
paradise
at least, part-time, they swarm our neighborhood.
In Florida, the winters don't bring ice.
Floridians should make some
sacrifice.
Can winter sometimes bring a bit of good?
Instead, cold sends the snowbirds to what's nice.
They fall upon our state like
scattered rice,
then jam our once clear roads, and so they should.
In Florida, the winters don't bring ice.
On cruise ships snowbirds
roll their lucky dice
to win the loot the natives never could.
Instead, cold brings the snowbirds to what's nice.
Our sad, dull lives sure need
a bit of spice.
The snowbirds bring that, and that's understood.
In Florida, the winters don't bring ice.
Instead, cold brings the snowbirds to what's nice.
BAPTISM Gwen
Eisenmann
About as tall as the table
under which she plays
with a hand-held mirror,
rapt in the gaze
of herself, she knows
the mysterious Other
but hasn't words
to tell what she knows.
"Me," she says, and runs away.
But later that day, down at the creek,
splashing, learning to duck her head,
she did it, came up laughing and said,
"I got it!" The Other was born.
GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL
Steven Penticuff
Any novel
someday
with my name
on it
had better spill
from necessity
tortured but pure,
a great urgent
madness,
or not at all.
Picture Salinger
sitting docile,
taking notes
in a "how-to"
course for writers,
patiently re-
turning to his
masterpiece.
If it comes
to your attention
that he, Harper
Lee, Thomas Hardy,
or Toni Morrison;
John Steinbeck,
Flannery O'connor,
or Kurt Vonnegut;
George Orwell,
Richard Wright,
or Gabriel Garcia
Marquez did such
an awful thing,
then please
don't tell me,
and kindly also
put me out
of my misery
before I find out
from somebody
else.
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ABSCESS
Faye Adams
Sealed in by porcelain,
the fiend grows
(festering more each day),
invades and destroys.
Pain walks in--
claims new territory,
nails down occupancy sign,
settles in for a long stay.
White coated savior
plunges his magic needle.
Whirr of the x-ray,
buzz of the drill--
pain subsides,
sun comes out,
world turns right-side up.
A HOTEL BESIDE INTERSTATE 44
David Van Bebber
A hotel beside Interstate
44 in Tulsa, Oklahoma,
defies gravity with its formation,
for now it provides stay only to my thoughts.
Windows, some boarded, some just gone.
Years of defending neighbors from
the bullets of rocks and beer bottles.
The eroding ivy has
overtaken the once blue paint,
and the fortress of stone work,
carved to defend its weekend rates
and complementary breakfast
has fallen victim to its phantoms.
This casualty of
capitalistic warfare,
once elegant,
suffers the humiliation of currency defeat.
And though the rooms lie
empty,
this hotel leaves no vacancy in my imagination.
It stands a monument,
a place of rest for the wandering mind.
AUTUMN LEAF
Laurence W. Thomas
Is this your
evidence then, quaking in the wind and turning yellow,
that I, in turning
eighty, am soon to be your fellow?
OCTOBER DEPARTURE
Nathan Ross
She is humble and mellow peering out through the glass
that pops curiously as the sun rises. We both sit in the
library, a common place to notice but not to be
noticed. Birds dance, leaves catch the gentle
breeze and fall, as if in love. In my mind, I
hold her hand and we negotiate more. I
ask for nothing more than to hold her
hand. In reality, her book-bag zipper
once again breaks off our imaginary
relationship and she heads for class.
FREE AT LAST
Henrietta Romman
As
I tried
to pray with
my heart and soul,
sins and burdens fell
upon My Rock, Himself.
He set me free forever.
As He lifted me with His love,
I sang His praises while angels joined
with multitudes of heaven's holy hosts.
A REHEARSAL OF WIND
Harding Stedler
A December sky
left ducks to shiver
and take refuge
in the swamp grass
of September.
I walked backwards
on my journey
around the lake today,
feeling my sojourn
was one of rewind.
No amount of huddling
could bring summer back.
As a child of warmth,
I could not return to August sun.
It had faded into hiding,
where worms measure daylight
by the segment.
FRUSTRATION Diane
Auser Stefan
Frantic,
darting, conflicting--brain jags and lags
Running
my mind one idea to the next
Unrelenting,
unable or capable of
Stopping
or slowing
Total
disarray, nothing constructive completed
Rambling
mind--that sounds too slow for how I feel
And
Time
Outs--good idea, but
I
can’t seem to do it
Only
writing words like these
Numbs
the scattered side of my soul today
RSVP
Tania Gray
Why do they wear black if it's White Tie?
The bride's mother and father could cry--
a black day--dollars by thousands fly
to hire the hall, the band;
a drop-dead stunning soiree to die
for: this party is grand!
FAMILY TREE
"A record of the
genealogy of Jesus Christ . . . " Matthew 1.1 Mark Tappmeyer
They were
an odd ancestry. Black
fibers in the wool brush.
A wolf loosed
in the sheep fold. Farmers
turned fleecers.
Murderers from monarchs.
High risk genetics for growing
a kingdom come,
a will be done
on earth as well as heaven.
But then came
the miracle child
who in season
bore seed
that sanctified
the treed.
THE ELEVENTH HOUR Tom
Padgett
About the time the fall semester metes
out mid-term tests to grade and hand back soon,
when campus life like that old harvest moon
wanes gibbously, when painted leaves retreat
before the autumn rains but students' prose
turns turgid, freshest of ideas dries
to deja vu, when harsh November tries
the door, impatient to move in, when most
of life seems past its expiration date--
just then here's news we wake to celebrate,
gone all malaise and banished every pain:
the Cardinals win the Series once again!
They resurrect our hopes from bleak ennui
by winning victories, late inningly.
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