DUST-FLAVORED SPAGHETTI
Harding StedlerA dirt road wraps the memories
of my childhood
when swirls of dust
would rush
through kitchen screens
and season our evening meal.
Mother would try
to keep the doors closed
at cooking time,
hated for us to eat the road.
She hated her spaghetti ruined.
But that old rut-filled road
held traffic to a snail's pace,
and there were many ruts to dodge.
Then, when Progress came
and paved the road,
it became a super-highway,
but we had no dust.
Head-on collisions instead,
and sirens,
and blood-stained pavement.
LOVE
Phylllis Moutray
"Gone Longer Than You Lived"
might be a song;
"Remembered Still"
a Hallmark card line.
I've never known such love.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET
Bev Conklin I should probably ask Mr. Murphy.
He's in charge of things gone wrong
If he would give me an answer,
My trips could be half as long.
When looking for a restaurant
recommended by a friend,
it won't be on the right-hand side.
On that, you can depend.
The same thing always happens
with buildings I'm looking for.
I'll have to make a left-hand turn,
whether for gas, motel, or store.
Or drive on by to a traffic light,
no matter how far that may be;
turn right and go around the block
then back. Now, is it just me?
Or is there a rhyme or a reason,
some mysterious, un-balanced sheet?
Why are my places always
on the other side of the street?
PURE BEEF
Mark Tappmeyer
Poetry is pure beef
Made from forty cows
Boiled days and hours
To an essence.
Over low flame
Red flanks, rumps,
Broad shoulders, kidneys
Surrender their musk
To a herd history in broth.
One thick drop
Maddens the tongue.
Pure beef--
That's poetry!
BARELY HONEST
Tom Padgett
She
called
me
bald:
”No
hair
grows
there.”
”Not
true--
got
two!”
I
cry.
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ONOMATOPOEIA
Gwen Eisenmann
Touch can be an ouch
for a quick flick,
or a thump on the rump
with a thick stick,
or a tender tap
and a tickle and squeeze
from a squirming tot
giggling to please.
WORM PSALM
Gwen Eisenmann
O worm (which end do I bespeak?),
thou makest not a sound nor squeak,
but I forsooth would sing thy praise
and thank thee for thy quiet ways.
Thou eatest earth, O squiggly worm,
and spitteth it out in curdly form
to fluffeth thy bed 'round flower feet
and aireth thy head in tunnely neat.
Thou'rt nothing but strip and squirm,
no shape, no drape, unlovely worm,
but without thee we’d surely die,
so bless the earth wherein thou lies.
Ah crumbly soil! ah humusy deeps
wherein my wormy garden keeps
a secret scent distilled by thee!
O wiggly worm, abide with me.
A CHRISTMAS VIEW
Valerie Esker
Blinking lights in Pine and Fir tree,
lights of Christmas hues, enchant me.
Magic . . . really!
White and blue in rhythm blinking,
glimmer, shine, while chimes are
tinkling.
Nog, for drinking.
Green of Christmas, lush as meadow;
red of ribbon, warm as heart glow
tie the love bow.
Blinking lights in colors, varied.
Man and Christ-child, Christmas
married.
This I see!
TO LET ME KNOW
Todd Sukany
To let me know that you are there,
I only need a word or maybe just a touch.
Occupy that vacant stare
To let me know that you are there.
Your tender hand, the tears we share
Are not too much
To let me know that you are there.
I only need a word or maybe just a touch.
EMERGENCY CALL
Bev Conklin
"You really need a car phone,"
my friends had all insisted.
"When you're driving alone and trouble comes,
how will you get help?"
... Turned out, they were right.
Driving down a steep mountain road,
shifting to make hairpin curves,
I glanced in the rear-view mirror
and what I saw
...turned mere tension, to fright!
The huge tractor-trailer behind me
was now so close to my trunk
his headlights were above me,
completely out of sight.
...How long could he--stay back there?
No way he could pass me;
I couldn't get off the road.
With thanks to friends for past advice,
I used the emergency phone.
...It was time to Dial a Prayer!
ENLIGHTENED
Valerie Esker
Winter shadows shroud my lawn
but spring is just a wish away,
so I will greet each gray-hued dawn
with smiles that light cold, clouded day.
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