- Tumbling – Karl Abrams
- dedicated to the memory of Milton and Bunny Bratton – Kitty Bratton
- Praise for a lost Woman – hillary kaye
- Life’s Work – Vecelina Minkovski
- for Carol Fondiller – R.F. Wagner, Jr.
- During the campaign – Edward Ferrer
- Changeling – Jim Smith
- Prayer – krista schwimmer
By Karl Abrams
So I waited for you,
This time completely.
Looking only at the garden gate
Where you would first appear.
Something moved gracefully,
gently in the languid afternoon.
It was you, I thought.
Then, no, it was just a leaf
in that sweet lonely wind…
But yes, that is also you.
(dedicated to the memory of
Milton and Bunny Bratton)
I long for the beach
I long for a beach
The one I recall is out of reach…
The dolly with the pink hair in the
The candy striped playground at windward-gone
The 10 cent tram up and down the boardwalk-gone
The king neptune of P O P’s entrance-gone
Jack’s by the sea-gone
The Lafayette’s restaurant-gone
The green pagodas we sat in-gone
The Fox movie house-gone
The old val’s drug store-gone
Hotels on the beach front full of seniors-gone
Running into friends you know for years-gone
My parent’s love was born in venice,
and they both died there.
I long for a beach.
Praise for a lost Woman
by hillary kaye
A life covered
in the blood of betrayal
A cremation of dreams
A fire pit
the life of the soul
in sorrow and joy
She gives birth and nurtures
and still is slandered
by a world enthralled with
its own destruction
And yet she loves the very things
that hate her
and is buried by the
same blood as her sons
By Vecelina Minkovski
That we grow up and
Teaches us to persevere
Our independence is crucial cause
It frees our selves and
Gives us power to create
It reminds us that we’ve had
The choices we are learning all along…
Unfortunately countless human beings
Especially the women and children of this world,
Have a limited pool from which to choose…
Or they have no choice at all…
No thanks to
It is our duty to make these demons
It is our destiny to fulfill our utmost
Purpose… right now.
With the abundance of resources
That we have so generously been
It is our responsibility
To make this world a better place
One act of kindness
At a time
So make the best choices that you can
And help those who have no choice at all
This is what it means me to be alive.
The fresh breath of oxygen given…
Had better create a happy reality that
Flourishes and grows many other
This is purpose.
This is life’s work…
Now come along
And sing the song
Of peace on earth
And good will to all.
20:35 Friday, February 26, 2010, behind the Talking Stick, for Carol Fondiller….. I never got to meet you. Now you’re lost To haunt me, and no ordinary ghost You are. Just what I needed: one more shock To waken me too late, a heavy rock Attached to my left ankle, pulling me In spirals to carve through a leaden sea. A millstone to embrace, held to my heart. A sense of sinking lingers. I report What I receive via eternity. I never got to know you. Certainty That you remain, in memories, to lock Into some private chamber, as the clock Has sounded from the tower, tolls at best, Reminding us: no ordinary ghost….. R.F.Wagner, Jr.
During the campaign
During the campaign
the hope rose
an Obama Nation
candidate Obama was a true single payer supporter
in the adage: “Campaign promises are meant to be broken”
gives us an
“not a problem”
unfortunately, an apparent
is part of the
“Best Democracy money can buy.”
By Jim Smith
She rides upon her great mare, Gladus
From end to end this town is hers.
The timid peek over their fences
Others wave from their porches.
We recognize her without a doubt
A bit of pink or brightly blue, it’s her.
One of a kind, A Venice woman.
Hard to predict, easy to admire
She’s up to nothing but good.
Cooking for the sick.
Entertaining the elderly.
You’ve got to be Bad
for Suzy not to think you’re good
When night falls our fair maid
changes before our eyes
and under the moon
into the Vamp of the speakeasies
and Queen of the b l u e s
bop bop a be bop
Yeah, sing it baby sing
sing that song of a woman’s torment
sing that song of a woman’s ecstasy.
Oh Goddess of the Winged Night
let not my heart go out to all men
as if each were a god.
Oh Goddess of the Many Moons
let not my mind turn towards all men
who cannot bear the brilliance of moonlight.
Oh Goddess of the Hidden Well
let not my mouth drink from any man
as if he were the source of life.
Now i invoke your tenderness!
Now i invoke your luminescence!
Now i invoke your strength!
And in the coolness of November rains
as the dead return to their graves
i rise up with them to return to you.
Categories: Jim Smith, Karl Abrams, Krista Schwimmer, Poetry
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