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Poetry Submissions for Week Of May 26, 2002
Topics For This Week:
FREE TOPIC
Nocturnal Escape
Staying up all night,
running from something elusive,
that refuses to be found.
Fighting sleep,
to avoid facing the dreams,
that haunt me every night.
Head throbs and tears flow.
6 AM has come at last.
The robins singing,
the sun coming up,
and me
going
down.........
down.........
down.........
Barbara
(Zephyr7755)
4/19/2002
................................
DREAMS
©almezzina 5/21/02
Our dreams can be so far away.
And so we plan for that fine day
when what we've sown we will then reap
and promises we've made we'll keep..
Dreams for tomorrow may well pay
if we do not neglect today.
The cost of dreaming can be steep
if while we dream we're fast asleep.
................................
FIRE
Fascinating images
shift and swirl
in the gradual
metamorphosis
from wood to ash.
Exotic flame dancers
sway and leap
and consume themselves.
St. George's sword,
aglow in the coals,
awaits a worthy foe.
But dragons decay.
Sinister, glowing eyes
will fade and die.
Brilliant oranges,
yellows and blues
will dim and dull to gray
to be blown away
by a careless wind.
Louise Brogan
5/15/2
................................
ONE WAY STREETS
Too many times
I should have seen the signs,
different faces, different names
but they're really all the same,
though not completely to blame.
People tend to take
as much as you'll give
and want more.
Life's a chore sometimes.
What seems to be
a different direction
is just a bend
in the same old road
Too many miles
of one way streets,
cracked intentions
tripping up feet.
Skip sympathy .
Admit defeat.
Treat me right next time.
Louise Brogan
5/4/2
................................
98 YEARS
Big old house with history,
more than enough
to feed a hungry imagination,
almost feeling the walls as they breathe
and palpitate with stories, the stuff of life.
Darkened dormer eyes silently watch over
an overflowing verandah.
Magnolias, laughter and perfume
drift on the breeze.
The rustle and swish of gowns
glides through conversations
sprinkled with innuendo.
Soft glows from inner lights
leave shaded corners
honeysuckle sweet with possibility.
Jazz and Billie Holiday
play on an old victrola
somewhere near the soul of this house,
this house with its history.
98 years of tragicomedy.
Louise Brogan
4/28/02
................................
In My Alice Blue Gown
I have always liked to sing
From the time I was a little tot.
I think that came from my mother
For she, too, always sang a lot.
I enjoyed the music classes
We had in our country school.
The Golden Book of Favorite Songs
Was our only songbook, as a rule.
I learned to play the organ
And some chords on a guitar.
I'd sing along as I played them
Dreaming someday I'd be a star.
At our high school assembly,
One day I was asked to sing.
Then I practiced with a pianist
Until it was to our liking.
In my sweet little Alice Blue gown,
That day of my singing debut,
I sang of the dress that inspired it.
I received plaudits when I was through.
Singing and music mean a lot to me,
But I do not suffer under any delusion.
A performing star I know I am not;
I long ago came to that conclusion.
C. 2002 Marian M. Aboltin (MeriRiter)
................................
Musical Emotions
Running back through my mind
tiptoeing softly
running wild
singing loudly
fast asleep
time oh time
why do you creep
upon my body
and my soul
with sadness, heartaches
and grief untold
A friend is one who's always there
I thought, I thought do I really dare
to love again... to have to hold
should I so ancient be so bold
and then the music
Chopin so sweet
with wild abandon leapt to my feet
and danced the dance of a younger one
and surprisingly it can be done
one may live and laugh and cry
without apologizing why
or feeling sorrow for those who choose
to stop living, it's they who lose
the chance to feel forevermore
and when its over, I'll close the door
no remorse for things undone
I did it... I did it.. I won. I won.
© vrd1/17/2002
Jenny91638
................................
Why Do I Feel This?
Lying on the grass
looking at the sky
wondering why
do I feel this
Riding in planes
high in the sky
who goes there?
And why
do I feel this?
What is the reason for pain,
Over and over again?
Who is to chose
who'll win and who'll lose
why do I feel this?
Are they on their way home
Do they feel the pain of alone
what is the reason
I sleep with a tear
in my eye?
Why
do I feel this?
Some say the pain goes away
I feel it stronger
each day.
Is that you way up high
riding a plane through the sky?
Are you on your way home too
Riding along on the blue?
Your pillow is still in its place
wet from the tears on my face
why do I feel this?
©Vrd6/18/99
Jenny91638@aol.com
................................
THIS IS MY DREAM
My hand in yours,
We walk down the lane
with two small children
by our sides.
You are tall,
muscular,full of life.
I am young, shapely,
a happy young wife.
Weall laugh together
as we sing silly songs.
No one cares whether
we even have a dime
Life was like this
once upon a time.
Now it is only in my dreams
.
Theyears have gone by
and the joy and innocence
of youth are but a sigh.
My dreams are my memories
of simple days of yore,
when all we had was happiness
and didn't yearn for more.
(c)CharlineC. (cdc713@aol.com)
12/15/98
................................
A FREE WEEK
A free week, just what does it mean?
Free of heartache and sorrow or body
wracked with pain?
A free week, a day, an hour, only in
my dreams?
For there is no guarantee of rainbows
every time it rains!
A free week, free from the self imposed
shackles of my heart?
Indifferent in spirit, oblivious to the
feelings of others?... I think not...
A free life, free from the never ending
false starts?
If here in this land and in this body I
am not free, then WHAT?
Ahhh but the medicine is beginning to ease
the hurt
I take a deep breath and drink in a moment
of tranquility
In spite of all that is wrong I know it
could always be worse
So I smile to myself as once again I can
languish in being me
And I think back on the past and the
sacrifices others did see
With courage and honor fighting their
battles and wars
To bring me to the here and now, to make
sure I was born free
The privilege to call this nation my home,
how can I ask for more?
A free week? Yes, indeed it will be!
For in my heart I know
It will be as free as I allow it to be.
Kerry
5-26-02
(ADLEBLANC)
................................
Kerry Cunningham / adleblanc@aol.com
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