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    A World of Verse

    Page 4
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      A calming silhouette,

      One which eradicates all fear,

      A shoulder on which to cry,

      A safe place to shed your tear.

      Her kind generosity,

      Her flushed rosy cheeks.

      All I've ever desired

      Is this girl my severed heart seeks.

      True Love and its Beauty

      At long last I have found you

      After all this time,

      Finally we're together

      I am yours and you are mine.

      That first night on the dance-floor,

      When the lights were turned down low,

      Our eyes, they met across the dark crowded room

      And the path of love did show.

      Our first date, a Chinese restaurant,

      We laughed the night away.

      'I've never felt this feeling before'

      I remember hearing you say.

      Back to yours or back to mine?

      A decision that had to be made

      And after that one, amazing night

      I knew our love would never fade.

      We grew up, became mature

      And our love grew stronger and stronger.

      But then with time came age,

      And both of us were no longer.

      Now we'll stay together,

      Looking back at the past

      It's nice to know that after death

      True love and its beauty lasts.

      * * * * * * * * * *

      OSCAR WAGER II

      The Old Man, the Dirt Path and Me

      I walked along an old dirt path, my boots kicking up the dust

      My spurs were old, and would not jingle because of too much rust

      I must have walked fourteen miles before another soul was seen

      Even though he was seated, I could tell he was tall and lean

      Many miles showed upon his face as he smoked a hand rolled cubeb

      There were many tales behind his eyes that glowed like ocean’s ebb

      He looked and motioned for me to sit alongside the soil road

      As I lowered my bottom I nearly sat on a brown toad

      It hopped out of the way of my aching rump before I struck

      And so I settled upon the ground wishing it all the luck

      The old man began by stating his name, now it’s just a blur

      As he talked the cicadas sang and the crickets they did stir

      He told a tale from his childhood; dreams of running out to play

      But he’d been warned that away from the local stream he must stay

      He himself at eight years old walked along a trail of dirt

      He came to three branches; choosing toward water and hurt

      He slipped into the creek while jumping across moss faced stones

      He grabbed onto a branch letting out barely distinct moans

      But his cries were heard by a lone fisherman wading near

      The fisherman pulled the young lad out, but he still felt fear

      His mama would know something when he returned to his house

      So on the walk back he concocted a tale of a grouse

      Stuck in the underbrush of the forest beside the trail

      When he told his mother the story she dropped her old pail

      Even though she knew it to be untrue, she smiled to see

      He was safe and in her arms; pouring love for her from he

      Once the old man finished his tale, I took the lesson well

      I sat for what seemed like hours even though I could not tell

      As I continued upon my journey, I thought it through

      And then I came upon a three tined fork not sure which way

      I thought back to the old man’s fable as my face turned gray

      Not the lesson of a mother’s love I was meant to learn

      I was to learn from his mistake and know which way to turn.

      A Lonely Soldier

      A soldier stands on a battlefield,

      Protecting the freedom of a thankless world.

      Fighting the enemy he’s been ordered to kill,

      While struggling to keep himself alive.

      Peace is always the ultimate goal,

      But death is the result of an aggressive foe.

      He may disagree with the reason he’s there,

      But he fights with conviction as he wages war.

      May God bless this lonely warrior,

      And keep him safe from harm.

      A Witches Downfall

      The witch stared into her bubbling vat,

      “Eye of newt, and wing of bat.”

      She cackled as she made her brew,

      Adding wart of toad, and evening dew.

      Making sure to get it right,

      She boiled her brew half the night.

      As the sun rose in the east,

      She summoned forth the nasty beast.

      Only one eye and rotting teeth,

      You could feel the evil flow beneath.

      A smell so foul it would make you sick,

      Fur matted and stained and full of ticks,

      “Take this to the tallest tree in the woods so deep,

      And bury it underneath, to stew and steep.

      When the time is ready, they will feel my wrath,

      No one will dare to cross my path.”

      On the darkest night, when there was no moon,

      She called out to her lackey goon.

      “Bring back the potion that you buried deep,

      It is time, for I have promises to keep.

      Go out to the woods, and retrieve my potion,

      It is time to set the wheels in motion.”

      As the hideous creature set off to his deed,

      The witch reflected upon her need.

      When he returned, she began her plan,

      This would show them all, to the biggest man.

      “Goddess of Earth, hear my cries,

      May a veil of darkness cover their eyes.

      Mask their sight with shades of gray,

      So they see only black in the light of day.”

      She poured the concoction onto the ground,

      The air grew still, and there was nary a sound.

      The witch’s eyes grew cloudy and gray,

      And then her eyesight just faded away.

      Her spell backfired and her sight was gone,

      The dumb ogre buried the jar upside down.

      * * * * * * * * * *

      Peter Watson Jenkins

      THE AUTHOR’S STORY

      It came so easily at first,

      Words dripped off his keyboard

      In a steady stream

      Of super-consciousness

      He saw a strong man

      Clad in skins and fur

      Master of a cave community

      Dwelling there with his wives

      Who daily protested they were

      His alone and only his

      Lest he suspect the younger men

      Taking advantage of him.

      After the hunt

      The young men ran home

      Leaving the elders

      Humping home heavy

      Bodies of beasts they had

      Done to death with

      Shouts of victory.

      Then the author realized

      His story was not simple.

      Discovered in the details

      It was his own life.

      Suddenly he remembered

      He had been that strong man

      The leader of the clan

      Weary from walking

      Many miles burdened

      With bodies of beasts

      Who came home at last

      To find his careless wives

      Together with the young men

      Then in his fury forgot

      His tiredness and age

      Battled the boys

      And lost.

      DICE ARE NICE

      One and six make seven

      Six and one the same.

      Smilingly I asked her

    &nbs
    p; Will you join our game?

      Two and five are seven

      Five and two as well.

      First round I lost badly

      Luck became her spell

      Three and four make seven

      Four and three does too.

      Bad luck was my fortune

      Dice had favored Sue.

      One last throw of seven

      Played my fate to seal

      Sue was smiling broadly

      Winning was unreal.

      “If you win again Sue

      I will marry you”

      Dice again decided

      And my luck came through.

      A STRING OF HAIKUS

      Operas greatly

      Delight my musical wife

      I get a numb bum.

      We are old fashioned

      Playing the Early Musick

      Few people enjoy.

      We have a piano

      A violin and a flute

      That nobody plays.

      My wife smiles broadly

      Preparing to sing at church

      A heavenly tune.

      We like the motets

      Sung at mass. What we dislike

      Is the long sermon.

      SONNET

      Where there were grassy fields and bubbling streams

      Where birds would hop from branch to branch and sing

      And little flowers reflected sunny gleams

      Their green shoots climbing upward every spring:

      Now noisy trucks piled high with human waste

      With bits of furniture and broken chard

      To dump upon the treasured land in haste

      And in an bloody stream without regard

      Of all that made the precious earth so rich

      In a brash insult to sweet nature’s face

      Without a thought of what they had to ditch

      Piled high their insults to that hallowed place.

      Then top their smelly hill of garbage greed

      They cover up with grass their dirty deed.

      * * * * * * * * * *

      Regina Puckett

      More

      Tucked inside and out of view

      Are dreams trying to come true

      But every now and then or so

      One will peek out to let me know

      There’s more to life than what I see

      And I can be more than I want to be

      Unaware

      Unbeknownst and unaware

      There are angels everywhere

      Calming hearts and shedding tears

      Through our pain and for our fears

      They hold our hands and feel our stings

      They lift our hearts on the tips of feathery wings

      Ships, Cows and Little Boy Blue

      It was porridge in a pear tree

      A Little Boy Blue Fantasy

      It was love at first sight

      A battle lost without a fight

      It was waiting for my ship to come in

      Seeing if your will would ever bend

      Instead the cow jumped over the moon

      And I was way too late or way too soon

      Our Steps Matched

      Wandering eyes and a motionless stance

      Was a strange way to begin this dance

      So I inhaled deeply and tried to pace

      My steps to match your subtle grace

      With each heart to heart and face to face

      Our souls became adrift through time and space

      * * * * * * * * * *

      SHANNON McROBERTS

      The Stages of Love

      I The Eternal Love

      I will love you forever

      My heart sings with joy

      The world will know our epic love story.

      II The Spurned Love

      You broke my heart

      And now you have to pay

      This grudge will never fade away.

      III Forgiveness

      In our defiant youth

      We proclaimed forever

      We never considered how long that was.

      From my broken heart

      I cursed you until the end of time.

      But my heart has mended

      My hate of you rescinded

      And now I feel nothing towards you at all.

      A Thousand Years

      Tear drops shatter-

      like broken shards of glass.

      My heart ceases to beat-

      beneath the misery.

      The somber raven-

      pecks at my soul.

      My very core-

      is numb with your lies.

      The charred embers-

      of all that we were.

      In a thousand years-

      my apocalyptic sun won’t matter.

      In a thousand years-

      we won’t even be a memory.

      In a thousand years-

      your betrayal won’t sting.

      In a thousand years-

      I will finally be free.

      Plea

      I understand you can’t make time for me.

      But could you just hear my plea?

      My heart is breaking you see

      I’m drowning in misery.

      Surely you would see–if you had time for me.

      Hope may float, but I don’t have long.

      Do you hear that beautiful sorrowful sound?

      It is the song of my shattered soul–it is almost at a crescendo.

      I am sure you could hear it if you stopped to listen.

      Well I am sorry I took up your time.

      I know it is valuable to you.

      Maybe someday soon you can make me some room on your never-ending calendar of to do.

      Maybe someday soon you will stop and soothe my wounds.

      But I understand you can’t make room for me today.

      I will see myself out of your way.

      * * * * * * * * * *

      Steven Harz

      A new cure

      Each day I collect couch cushion pennies

      Lincoln wheat copper zinc

      in a dented tin bucket that I stored secretly

      under our bed until the time came for me

      to need an abandoned wishing well

      Behind our house on welcome wooded walks

      path tracks bridge brook

      you gathered weeds and wildflowers

      in turn of the century medicine bottles

      and placed them on the windowsill to die

      After we began declaring war on each other

      I would sneak a handful and go

      in search of soon needed hope but slowly

      my pennies would disappear into the

      back pocket black hole that long ago

      stole gumballs and baseball cards

      folded love notes and promised forevers

      You began by using silence as a bargaining chip

      and later your used anger like an arrow

      finally you tried to push me away with your words

      but your actions finally worked and the

      result was indifference and to heal the wounds

      that both of us caused but neither wanted

      you emptied your bottles in search of a new cure

      Following the railroad tracks

      Baltimore Ohio Chesapeake Pennsylvania

      with full bucket and empty pockets

      I found my well and kissed each coin

      before tossing it into our future

      and as the caboose rolled past and

      the view beyond was distant but clear

      I saw you sitting on a fallen log

      holding a fistful of white dandelions

      against the fast fading train

      scattering your own million wishes

      Misplaced heart

      The morning news showed a story about

      a baby born with her heart on the outside

      and as we watched together

      you in your new world and me in our old one

      I touched the screen as it beat outside of her body and


      learned that doctors had to build a

      hole in her chest to make room for what they called

      her misplaced heart

      When you were barely older than her

      you molded your own discarded steel heart

      into recycled brass knuckles

      allowing you to fend off love in the name of hurt

      and in the years since have passed time

      smoking wooden matches while drinking milk jugs of gasoline

      from live wire straws and riding shotgun

      with ghosts of who you should have been

      Abandonment hit you like a winter morning commandment

      causing scars that remain tipped in red making them

      look like God’s words in the Bible

      and the light you are now walking toward is

      our 120 watt incandescent messiah

      and while you fought off love I searched for it and

      where a baby with a point of view heart is loved and cried over you thought yours lost and never to be found

      until buying milk by the carton I discovered your picture

      So you leapt from the height of our love and

      onto the rocks below hoping to induce amnesia so

      you could forget your pain like they forgot about you

      and if I could I would lure you home by cutting out a yellow construction paper crown with green lefty scissors

      and building you a castle from forgotten fun house mirrors

      that could change your point of view and

      allow you to kiss yourself at every turn

      Our first meeting was brief and you kissed me do hard

      that it drew blood and made me reach for something sturdy

      And although quick we were electric but before long

      I knew you had to leave me and us and why

      Now while you lay here and I watch over you

      I take a break from holding your hand and brushing your hair

      and think that your hospital sheets are so stiff that if

     


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