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POEMS BY MEMBERS
SPRING
Gwendolyn Eisenmann
Because spring came with rain
making green over old gold
where daffodils lit the way
and our resident mockingbird
had so much to say
from a budded lilac bush
I spent morning time
looking, longing, listening
smelling and smiling
because spring came with rain
making green over old gold
where bird song wrote the world.
GIVE ME SOME SPACE
Tania Gray
(Thanks to USA Today, April 27, 2009)
Before retirement day
be sure to plan for play—
have fun! Don’t think too much
on negatives and such;
decide who you will be.
Rethink your strategy
to reach your goals, and write
a page each day. It’s bright
to actually do the things
your diary says make your heart sing.
Now listen up, my friend:
it’s crucial you don’t spend
all day with loving spouse.
You, hubby: soon a louse;
you, wife: your marriage oath
does not say share meat loaf
at noon. “For better or for worse,
but watch it: not for lunch!”
PUSSY, DOWN PUSSY
Lawrence W. Thomas
Awake in the morning, I let
my dreams fade.
Pussy, down pussy, get out of my bed.
I ask for my breakfast; I
need to be fed.
Pussy, meow pussy, go look for your food.
A mouse in the kitchen might
taste quite good.
Pussy, prowl pussy, do your good deed.
I lie in the window, the sun
on my head.
Pussy, good pussy, you’ve got it made.
Stalking the garden, I look
for a toad.
Pussy, growl pussy, on the edge of the wood.
I frighten a chipmunk until
he is treed.
Pussy, brave pussy, you’re never afraid.
I leap in the air for a young
katydid.
Pussy, spry pussy, I knew that you could.
I scratch on the sofa until
it looks chewed.
Pussy, bad pussy, go hang your head.
After all this, I’m weary
indeed.
Pussy, purr pussy, asleep on my bed.
THINK TANK AFTER LUNCH
Dewell H. Byrd
back to the meeting
circle up
reports
technical papers
room warm
windows open
ceiling fan drones
swish swish
mind half-speed
I doze
across the circle
her long legs cross
right foot dangles
toe taps
syncopated to fan
swish-tap swish-tap
eyes connect
eyebrows raise
head tilts
faint smile
I’m wide awake
BETWEEN LIGHT AND SHADOW
Pat Durmon
A doe hovers
between light and shadow. . .
a man blinks
to make her appear
then again to disappear.
Like a drum,
the hunter’s blood-song
pounds in his ears.
Then the doe moves fully
into the light. She turns
and seems to look
right into the man’s eyes.
Her ears prick,
and her nose samples the air.
Without a sound,
she lowers her head
to pick at tender shoots
in the shadow of a pine
near the edge of a rice field.
And—
the man lowers his gun
to watch the music.
A FLOWER FOR HIS KINGDOM
Jennifer Smith
In memory of Earl Ray Stephenson, 1921-2009
and Ray Marshall Wells, 1915-2009.
Two flowers picked in April 2009
A life is like a flower grown,
if lived for God it’s not a tare.
It’s beauty shows as it blooms for Him--
a flower for His Kingdom.
The Master Gardner tends the
soil,
prunes the rose and pulls the weeds
Lovingly He coaxes each plant to bloom–
a flower for His Kingdom.
Rains will fall and winds
will blow.
Trials come to ev’ry garden.
After the storm, the bloom’s more fair–
in a flower for His Kingdom.
Our life is meant to bloom
for Him,
displaying all His glory.
Our fragrance attracts others to Him–
we’re a flower for His Kingdom.
Then one day at the end of
our life,
God smiles down at us and sees
His glory shining in our flower face–
He picks His flower for His Kingdom.
May I bloom forever, Lord,
in the garden of your grace.
With all the saints from every age–
a flower for Your Kingdom.
ANY NAMES COME TO MIND?
Harding Stedler
Even roaches
enjoy the Arts
and, unencumbered,
inspect the galleries daily.
When I arrive to volunteer
there is always one to greet me
as though it were an official host.
Each one
receives a free ride
in a morning dust pan
when Thursdays roll around.
I deposit it outdoors
to meet the heat of day
where birds may peck away
its wings and thrash it
in high weeds.
Today, I
have changed my thinking,
however. I am thinking about
starting a roach collection,
pinning each one to corkboard
displaying it under glass,
then giving it a name.
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PAINTED CORN
Martha Thomas
I drive, drive, drive
through fields of corn, beans,
cattle, and hay.
Flat plains flourishing
by the sweat of men.
Men of pride
Labor from sunrise to moonglow.
Rough hands replace a fence post,
deliver a calf, steer
the Case International.
I am grateful,
driving through the brushstrokes
of Iowa men.
the wall
Dave Gregg
there is a wall
in a meadow
in a field
far away
it serves no purpose
crudely stood
of rock and stone
it divides no land
marks no spot
assembled by time
and hands unknown
a forgotten wall
in a meadow
in a field
far away
it serves no purpose
MAY YOU
ALWAYS
(by Larry Markes and Dick Charles,
parody by Pat Laster)
May's the month we laud our
mothers,
though we love them all the time.
Give them flowers, gifts or candy,
let them know with us they're prime.
May is always graduation;
school is over for a while.
Any student you encounter
may have on a happy smile.
May, you always bring the
roses
--yellow, red and white.
The privet, honeysuckle, pollen--
allergies both day and night.
And May, you're always such
a beauty--
gentle showers, morning dew.
Till the year rolls round again,
we'll say goodbye to you.
ADDRESS TO THE PRINCE
Heather Lewis
Risky,
to place your whole future
on the hope that the shoe will fit one girl only.
Foolish,
to believe that this slipper’s size is unique,
since Betsy and I have the same size feet,
and you stop at her house before mine.
Seems
you would be able to recognize
the girl you danced, talked,
and laughed with all night.
Of course,
I have the other shoe.
And I could step forward and prove
that I am the girl you fell for.
But if you aren’t willing to take
a real risk, and find me on your own—
if you really place all the weight
on this shoe fitting
and nothing else—
I shouldn’t want you anymore.
BUCK SENSE
Faye Adams
Postage rates were rising;
we didn't mind one bit.
We used a bit of buck sense,
and slid right in the groove.
We bought lots of forever
stamps and didn't take the hit;
poor Uncle Sam went wanting
when push came to shove.
SPRING BREAK
Annika Bergen
As ants evict a flooded
hill
Or termites flee a drowning home,
So students from their classrooms spill
Into the sunshine, free to roam.
Their engines rev, their tires burn—
A race to wave-licked sand and foam,
To salty air a youth’s lungs yearn.
BERRY SHOCKING
Diane Auser Stefan
Blueberries in my cereal
provide antioxidants, it’s true,
but the downside is that shocking sight
when they turn the milk all blue.
LIVES LIFE LIVES
Tom Padgett
We have heard that cats and spies
lead multiple lives, creature-wise.
The tomcat on the backyard fence
enjoys a special providence:
despite bad luck he will survive
eight times or more to stay alive.
And secret agents do or die
for or against the FBI,
like Herbert Philbrick, who led three
private lives on our TV.
And then there is Life magazine
that's also lived three lives--first seen
in 1883 and cited soon
for commentary and cartoons.
In 1936, its name
sold Henry Luce and became
photo journalism’s best.
For forty years it led the rest.
A newspaper supplement
was its third embodiment.
Today, of course, Life's still around;
avid collectors can be found
on Google, where you for a price--
if the issue is “mint” nice--
will get your nostalgia’s worth,
and Life will have another birth.
My youngest daughter bought for me
a special issue. For its fee
she brought December 25,
1964, alive.
VISIT WORKSHOP FOR
AN ASSIGNMENT.
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