THE RED KITE
Russ Kirby
a red kite dancing
in a blue sky
held by a slender
bowed line
opposing equal forces
shakes and shimmies
as it pulls against the line
this beauty owes all
to the tension
of the line
a kite of any color
may fly cordless
in the mind
but a dancing red kite
must be held
just so
by a slender line
INVISIBLE TREES
Don Queen
I'm sitting here waiting
for words to grow.
Special words picked out of the air.
I write knowing they're going to show.
Here on the paper if I'm aware.
I
reach up and pluck fresh, ripe choices
That hang on stout invisible trees.
It's nice finding fruit with voices,
That help us laugh, cry and be free.
Once digested seeds drop to the ground,
The same chance as acorns to germinate.
The roots take, then limbs are heaven bound.
Again, I pick food for my paper plates.
MORNING GLORY
For Toni
Bobbie Jo Queen
When I am gone you will hear me in the
wind,
You'll see me in the sweet maple trees
in late October.
I think of you while I pull back the rich soil
and tuck in the seeds of morning glories.
Seems so long while waiting for them to
sprout,
But then they grow fast and radiant.
They greet me every morning with beaming
faces.
Oh how I love you, Toni. Eighteen today,
so eager.
you love life and brighten my world.
When I am gone you will hear my heartbeat
in every soul who loves you.
I will fly on a cardinal's wing to shine
on your cloudy day.
You'll smell my perfume in the roses,
my hugs are in your sisters,
rain will be my tears for I miss you.
Winter is quiet like the nights you slept
tucked in by my loving arms,
my prayers always to keep you
in God's safe reach.
Then mornings always came when you
awoke to greet me with your
beautiful face in all your glory.
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LIFE ALONG I-70
Jodi A. Voss
The steel railing stretches off into nowhere.
Glancing to see where it meets the earth,
I'm blinded by the glare of an 18-wheeler,
cruising . . . heading God only knows where.
Bluffs, median, signs, highline poles,
and time to contemplate a mission in life.
Will time bring blue skies and sunshine,
or will fog hide an undefined soul?
Fields lie in wait . . . harvested, barren, plowed.
Seems forever before Spring brings new life to
the soil,
enriching it with seeds, new beginnings.
A seed rises above being just one piece of grain
among a crowd.
Rolling hills fall to river banks below.
A dilapidated building tilts,
ready to take a fall.
Will it defy the winds of time to stand tall?
Ah! To be reminded . . .
"One reaps what one will sow."
HOBBES
Eric PurteeHobbes, tiny cat,
Clawing through the
Dark.
Bites me, his
Lamp-like eyes aglow,
Cuts my hand.
Sharp claws, tiny
Teeth, fishy breath.
Long whiskers.
Slinking, in the
Shadows; lurking
In a dark corner.
Sliding, slithering,
Waiting to pounce.
I come, he attacks.
Pouncing, striped menace,
Tiny little jungle cat.
WINTER’S SOLSTICE
Shane Manser
Raytown Bards
If a flower fair
resembles half
your golden grace
and winter's solstice
bares
honor as it does disgrace,
I'll find evening's
longest hour
temperate and replace
the moment for the moment--
the moment in its place.
WHATEVER
Lorraine Hoffower
From the mouths of 15-year-old boys
Come words of bitterness and hate.
I wish I weren’t your son, he says.
Life has dealt me cruel fate.
As I refer to my parenting handbook, I endeavor
To reply as sweetly as I am able.
Dearest son, I’m sure you don’t mean it.
When what I really want to do is roll my
eyes and say, Whatever!
VANISHED HOPE
Michael Wells
Yesterday is gone.
It didn't linger and I so wish it had.
I wanted it to.
Hoped, but no care was given to my whim.
I lost something with it.
Like an anchor tied to my dream,
yesterday sank from view over the bow.
It is murky there where it had gone.
My hand outstretched and fingers trembling,
it resides lost beyond my reach.
I see a plop of tear rain into the water below.
A circle of rings plots its impact.
It too is gone.
Like my dream.
Like yesterday.
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