stark county district library how sweet it is adult poetry

How Sweet it Is!

Stark County District Library’s 2012 Poetry Contest • Page 1

Table of Contents

Notes of Appreciation .................. 2

Award Winners ............................. 3

Poetry .......................................... 4

Index of Entries ............................ 23

Introduction Over the past 12 years, the Stark County District Library has sponsored a poetry

contest open to children and teens grades 2—12. The contest grew with entries

submitted from students all over Stark County as well as the United States.

This year the contest was expanded to include 50 poems written by the adults of

Stark County.

We hope you enjoy reading the poetry entered into this,

our 13th Annual Poetry Contest at the Stark County District Library.


How Sweet it Is!

Special Thanks To Ron Krumlauf who has produced the great decorations for our poetry events over the

years. This year was no exception!

To the Stark County District Library’s Public Information Department Employees. Without

the efforts of Linda Dahl, Karen Allen and Dominic Caruso we would not have the wonderful

artwork for promotional posters and this booklet.

To the library employees who took time to work on preliminary judging of this year’s

entries. By choosing your favorite entries it made it much less cumbersome for the final judges to

decide the winners.

Julia Shaheen, Main Library Ron Krumlauf, Main Library

Rebecca Baldwin , Plain Community Branch Linda Miday, Main Library

Janey Davis, East Canton Branch Ann Wetmore, Main Library

Nicole Yoder, Main Library Linda Miday, Main Library

Amy Baltzy, Main Library Debbie Russo, Main Library

Mike DeComo Charita Goshay

Susan Joyce Frank Motz

Tricia Ostertag Sara Riggle

Chris Rood Maria Smith

Carla Thompson‐King Vertigo X'ian Xavier

We would also like to thank the following library employees who helped type

the entries that appear in this booklet, as well as the rest of the youth services staff

at the Main library who “held down the fort.”

Notes of Appreciation The Stark County District Library’s Poetry Committee worked hard

putting the contest and other poetry events together.

We would like to thank the following committee members for all their work:

Final Judging was done by a committee of community volunteers.

We would like to thank them for taking time out of their busy days, for reading the many

poems and deciding the winners.

How Sweet it Is!


Marcus Bales Have You Forgotten? 22

AJ Bradley In Dreams 11

Larry Catsonis Drawing Circle 17

Carla A Cook How Do You Do 5

Karen Dhyanchand All That We Can Never Measure 13

Sungeun Lim Two Words I Couldn’t Say 4

Jen Pezzo Merrily We Go ‘Round Again 10

Dan Phillips Landfill of Memories 7

Mary Lynne Quinnan Zahler Hush 13

Andrew Richardson Alarm Clock 22

Award Winners


How Sweet it Is!

Two Words I Couldn’t Say

Broken promise in our photograph

I have a photograph of the time

My family wore the grateful dresses, suits

and splendid hanboks that mixed with vibrant colors

and simple lines like confident Koreans.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa. Instead of saying it,

Smile as we can. Try not to twist the face

All our complex conflicts are hidden and only happiness exists.

Grandpa's black hanbok makes him bold and passionate.

We promise to be together in our photograph every year.

Today, my mom got a call from Seoul

Our absence at his 80th birthday party was noted.

Far away, we are wild geese from the past:

Some fly move to the United States

The sadness of separation and the tear spliced around

Our shadow will not be shown in the new photograph

My curly hair, My mom's vivid hanbok, My sister's neat suit

hide behind the distance.

— Sungeun Lim

Shirley Temple

With her eyes that sparkle so bright And her smile that lights up the night There isn’t a doubt That you just cannot pout As Shirley makes everything right!

To dance like dear Shirley Temple With steps that aren’t all that simple Inspires us all To take tap in the Fall And also to grin with a dimple!

Even the men big and burly Smirking and sour and surly Are soon at a loss When her hair she does toss Full as it is and so curly!

Her ringlets are so full of charm It is no one she cannot disarm The sad become glad As they know they are had By Shirley who means them no harm!

“My word!” says he when he see her The tall and tame Arthur Treacher Quite soon you can tell That he’s under her spell Playing her good manners teacher!

Of candies and crackers she sings All bouncy and bubbly she springs We love her good cheer As she shows us no fear Its happiness to us she brings!

Her pictures are so full of fun That families can watch them as one Her movies we guess Will not end with a mess As goodness does shine like the sun!

— Luisa Kay Reyes

"A Lovely Thought"

Things may not have turned out how I wanted.

Things may not have worked out as they ought.

I always had the best of intentions.

You must admit ‑‑ it was a lovely thought.

I guess I've proven I'm not always perfect.

I recognize the flaws that I have got.

I really didn't mean for this to happen.

Don't you agree? It was a lovely thought.

They say that it's the thought that counts when giving;

Whether it's the perfect gift or not.

So, keep in mind this little piece of wisdom,

And please believe it was a lovely thought.

“We learn from our mistakes” is what they tell me,

So now I put to use what I’ve been taught.

I think of you with every waking moment,

And I must admit…You are a lovely thought.

— Richard J. Woods

SPRING CROCUSES

CROCUSES ARE UP IN THE WOOD.

I FEEL SO GOOD!

IT MUST BE SPRING.

LET’S SING!

‐‐ Nancy Nicholas

How Sweet it Is!


How Do You

How do you say good‐bye

To a child you love so much,

A child that is not within your reach

For you to hold or touch.

How do you say I Love You

To a child so far above,

When you can never say the words

Or show her your love.

How do you tell your child

I wanted you here with me,

But God felt the need to

Take you up to heaven with he.


My heart aches for you,

But now you belong to God

So I must live without you.


I still miss you every day,

For I didn’t get the chance

To be your mother in any way


Maybe someday we will meet,

And my arms will be opened wide

For my baby daughter to greet.


God will take care of you,

I hope that God will tell you

How very much I still love you.

— Carla A Cook

MUSE ADDICT

She is the most addictive drug, the Muse.

Envy those who never hear her,

For once you have

Her song makes the Sirens’

Raspy and weak;

Makes love tepid;

Makes drink . . .

Ah, but she’s gone again.

Those of us who hear her

Can’t even take credit

For the soul flights she reveals.

— Shannon Waller

Living in a Fantasy

When I was a little girl, I lived in a Fantasy world of my own. But I looked out and I see life is no fantasy of my own. God made the trees and the animals and the sky so blue, hi died for and you he is true so very true. My little girl she’s just a little girl She lives in a fantasy world of her own. But someday she will se what The Lord has done for me she will no longer live in a fantasy world of her own. God made the trees animals the sky so blue, died for me and you he is so true so very true. So someday you will see what the Lord has done for you and me. We will no longer live in a fantasy of our own. God made the trees animals the sky so blue, died for me and you he is so true so very true.

— Noreen Kay Cassidy


How Sweet it Is! Finding the Light

Go on your way and find your light

Go on your way and make your ideas bright

Go on your way and search and seek

Go on your way and take a peek

Sometimes the world will make you fall

Sometimes the road will have some walls

Sometimes your shoes will become untied

Sometimes you’ll find that people lied

But…

Keep going your way to find the light

Keep going your way holding onto your dreams so

tight

Keep going through the bitter cold

Keep going through and be so bold

And when your clothes are stained from dirt

And when your hear is broken and hurt

And when you don’t know which way to turn

And when you don’t know why the flames won’t

burn

Don’t give up…you’ll find the light

Don’t give up…it will be worth the fight

Don’t give up…and don’t turn around

Don’t give up…because it will all be found

— Min Joo Martin

The Christmas Wish

If I could grant one wish to you,

whatever would it be,

that you’ll find peace and happiness

and truly you’ll be free.

If I could give one wish to you,

whatever would I say,

that you would learn to love yourself,

each and every day.

If I could give you one wish

with all my love of heart,

that you’ll find the one meant for you

and never will you part.

If I can hand you one wish,

whatever it could be,

that you find the strength and love

from your family.

If I could let you take one wish,

here’s what I’d say,

may you learn to look at others

in a truly loving way.

If I could let you see one wish,

and let you know by heart,

your faith will keep you safe at night

and from you never part.

And as I say these words to you,

I know down in my heart,

although we go our separate ways

we’ll never truly part.

My Christmas wish came true today,

You’re always in my heart.

— Michael Dickson/Frost

Exit

The rain and I made

patterns with a snow‐white lattern

The bright‐oh‐so‐white

Be it trite or

a thunderstorm

So clean and outstanding

the drops hit my head

(It was really the roof they hit,

but sensitivity struck early)

The beaming were not ready

to come out all alone,

so I waited by the door

by a sign that said

EXIT that said exit.

— Christine M. Singh

How Sweet it Is!


The Front Row

As you gaze across the church you see and feel the pain

You can hear them crying why as they screaming his name

You see his boys coming in with tears in their eyes Even they’re asking why the homie had to die A serious question you feel entitled to answer –that becomes rhetorical

It’s this violence yall it’s spreading like a cancer It’s affecting so many causing painful reflections A thought a Mother once loved is now her only con‐nection

How can we continue to see these FRONT ROWS en‐during this pain

And even think about killing for whatever reason we claim

After seeing a Father’s tears, as he breaks into pieces All his siblings in a daze from the shock that life ceases

My heart goes out which in turn makes me think How I could never bring this agony for a family to drink

This pain starts in the FRONT ROW but goes on to in‐finity

2 generations from now the FAMILY still feel the pain from him missing

He has a place in his FAMILY that was taken away GOD says Woe to the man who brought this tragic day

You don’t want to be that man to whom GOD says Woe

Though HE may forgive you, you still reap what you sow

— Gonzalee Jones

“Landfill of Memories” Pieces of my memories fall away

Like leaves from a majestic oak.

They amass upon the base of my recall

Never forgotten, but seldom useful.

The rake of time pushes them, piles them,

bags them and sets them at the curb

to be taken to the landfill of memories.

They are sorted, tagged and assigned a bin.

Some to be recycled and filed to experience.

Some pushed to the side for further review.

A large bin labeled “Unpleasant”

Seems unusually over burdened.

Memories are never gone, just buried as a raggedy

shoe

Laid to rest with laces knotted as one.

Eternally united but, outlived its use.

The heavy equipment of the mind seals their fate.

Buried beneath layers of time, experience and emotion

Only to be ignited by a scent, a color, a phrase.

Confined as they are, yet somehow

Polluting the natural waters of my brain.

‐‐ Dan Phillips

One of my Own

I wanted to buy a horse, so off to the auction of course. They had Cleveland Bays, appaloosas and grays.

There were horses for all your desires, well‐bred and fancy or common sires. So many geldings, stallions and mares, I was in heaven without any cares.

Under the bright blue sky the auctioneer began to cry. People were betting and raising their paddles, as all the horses were led without any saddles.

A beautiful palomino was sold, In the sun his coat was spun gold. Then brought before my eyes, a horse that filled me with breathless sighs.

I want him I exclaimed! Though he wasn't perfect I explained. He was built kind of small, being only fourteen hands tall.

He was a simple brown. His legs were strong and sound. I joined in the betting, as the sun had started setting.

"Sold!" the auctioneer called out. I anxiously looked all about. "He is mine, he is mine, "I cried!" And I ran to him in perfect stride.

— Nancy Stolarik


How Sweet it Is!

I CAN DANCE

QUEEN IRIS DARBY A WONDEFUL WOMAN WITH A BEAUTIFUL NAME,

BECAUSE OF HER, MY LIFE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME.

AFRICAN AMERICAN LIVING NEXT DOOR TO A WHITE,

IN THE 60’S MANY PEOPLE THOUGHT THIS WAS NOT RIGHT.

WITH NO CHILDREN OF HER OWN WE WERE LIKE HER FAMILY.

SHE EVEN HAD FRAMED PICTURES OF US ON THE TOP OF HER TV.

SHE LOVED MY SISTERS AND I, AS SHE WOULD LOVE HER OWN.

SOMETIMES WE ATE DINNER AND SPENT THE NIGHT IN HER HOME.

QUEENIE WAS A BEAUTICIAN, SHE DID ALL THE HAIR IN OUR NEIGBORHOOD.

A STROKE TOOK AWAY THE USE OF AN ARM, SHE COULD NO LONGER DO HAIR AS SHE SHOULD.

EVEN TOUGHNOT FULLY FUNCTIONING SHE CONTINUED TO HEKLP OTHERS.

WE ALWAYS FELT LIKE WE HAD AN ADDITIONAL MOTHER.AFTER EATING LUNCH, AS A 5TH GRADER,

WE WOULD DANCE TO 45’S ON THE RECORD PLAYER.

I LOVED THE MUSIC OF THAT ERS, A GOOD DANCER I WAS NOT,

I THOUGHT BY DANCING WITH MY FRIENDS I COULD EASILY BE TAUGHT.

MAYBE MY CLASSMATES DID NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH DAMAGE THEY DID.

WHEN THEY TEASED ME ABOUT MY DANCING BEING LIKE AN IRISH JIG.

I QUICKLY RAN HOME AT THE END OF THE DAY, I WAS VERY UPSET BY THE THINGS THEY HAD TO SAY.

THAT DAY, WORKING AS A NURSE, MY MOTHER, I WOULD HAVE TO BE HELPED AND CONSOLED BY

ANOTHER.

QUEENIE, QUEENIE I YELLED WITH TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE,

I AM NEVER RETURNING TO THAT AWFUL PLACE. I”NOW CINDY IT’S ALRIGHT” SHE SAID WITH A GRIN.

“WE WILL WORK TOGETHER, I’LL HELP” PLEASE LIFT UP YOUR CHIN.”

IMMEDIATELY TO THE RECORD PLAYER SHE FLEW.

SHE PUT ON HER OWN 45’S, HER MUSIC WAS GREAT TOO.

SHE REACHED HER ONE GOOD HAND DOWN TO THE BAD,

AND SHOWED ME HOW TO CLAP OUT THE RHYTM WITH BOTH OF MY HANDS.

WE DID THIS EVERY DAY IMMEDIATELY AFTER SCHOOL,

QUEENIE WOULD HELP ME TO NOT LOOK LIKE A FOOL!

EACH DAY BEFORE FINISHING AND BEFORE WE DEPARTED,

HER FAVORITE MUSIC ON THE RECORD PLAYER SHE STARTED.

OUR ENDING SONG WAS ALWAYS, SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR ME.

QUEENIE TWIRLING ME WITH HER ONE GOOD ARM IS A FAVORITE MEMORY.

BECAUSE QUEENIE HELPED ME CLAP OUT THE BEAT AND THE RHYME,

WITH THE MUSIC I CAN REALLY KEEP TIME.

I WILL ALWAYS LOVE QUEENIE FOR BEING MY FRIEND,

AND I WILL FOREVER BE GRATEFUL TO HER TILL THE END.

OH AND BY THE WAY,

I CAN DANCE!!

— Cindy Devaul‐Tonges

How Sweet it Is!


A SISTER'S LOVE

THERES A HELL I FEEL INSIDE, AS A LOST CHILD CRIED, I WAS HELPLESS TO SAVE HER LIFE

SHE WASNT READY TO BE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME LORD,SHE WASNT READY TO DIE

TEAR A HOLE IN THE SHY TONIGHT, LET THE ASHES OF RAIN,PUT OUT THE FIRES OF RAGE INSIDE

THIS I WILL FOREVER KNOW IS TRUE SISTER, I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP ON FALLIN, FEELS LIKE THERES NOTHING LEFT TO

HOLD ON TO

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP ON FALLIN

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY,FLY THROUGH THE SKIES OF YOUR DESTINY

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY,RESTING IN THE ARMS OF ETERNAL GRACE

I WISH I COULD WALK DOWN THE STREETS OF YESTERDAY, NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD,JUST

HAPPY YO BE PART OF A FAMILY

BLACK CLOUDS ABOVE, AN ONCOMING STORM ARRIVES, IM FIGHTING TO SURVIVE, I MUST

CARRY ON HER NAME NOW, AND FIND AN END TO THE HARD TIMES

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP ON FALLIN, FEELS LIKE THERES NOTHING TO HOLD ON

TO

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP FALLIN

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY,FLY THROUGH THE SKIES OF YOUR DESTINY

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY. RESTING IN THE ARMS OF ETERNAL GRACE

AS I LOOK UP AT THE SKY, WATCHING THE CLOUDS PASSING ME BY

I SEE AN ANGEL FLY,THERES A FEATHER FALLIN IN MY EYE,

THE SEEDS THAT WERE ONCES SOWN,WILL FOREVER GROW, YOUR SPIRIT LIVES ON, INSIDE YOUR

CHLIDRENS MINDS, YOU ARE THE BEATING HEART OF THEIR HAPPINESS, CREATOR OF ALL OF

THIER DREAMS IN LIFE

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP ON FALLIN, FEELS LIKE THERES NOTHING LEFT TO

HOLD ON TO

FEELS LIKE FOREVER WHEN YOU JUST KEEP FALLIN

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY, FLY THROUGH THE SKIES OF YOUR DESTINY

A SISTERS LOVE, NEVER GOES AWAY, RESTING IN THE ARMS OF ETERNAL GRACE

THERS A HEEL I FEEL INSIDE,AS A LOST CHILD CRIED, I WAS HELPLESS TO SAVE HER LIFE,SHE

WASNT READY TO BE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME LORD,SHE WASNT READY TO DIE, TEAR A HOLE

IN THE SKY TONIIGHT,LET THE ASHES OF RAIN, PUT OUT THE FIRE OF RAGE INSIDE

THIS I WILL FORVEVR KNOW IS TRUE SISTER, I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU.

Written & Dedicated to Joy M Williams

Etched in Paper & Everlasting Marked PJW Collaboration by Paul J Williams, Jim Oslager, Jack Oslager

All Words Lyrics & Music


How Sweet it Is!

Merrily We Go ‘Round Again

I don’t write for children, no. You might laugh, or think

it a flaw of mine, but I can’t

write what I don’t know.

No, I don’t write for children.

You can laugh if you want.

I pretend now to be innocent,

my face childlike,

my exterior friendly, and yes

most children flock to me

like a giant jungle gym,

climb over and wrestle me

– see me only as one of theirs,

giggle and tell me secrets,

but I still don’t write for them.

You see, no one can comprehend

the word “Jaded” like my inner child,

who is and was everything at once:

mother‐father/therapist‐oracle/housekeeper,

thrown headfirst into the complexities

of life unprotected; left to drown

in adult emotions impossible to name,

unable now to remember

the simplicity of things such as:

“happy bees”,

“the color yellow” and

“this is a family”.

There were even some who

considered me a wise child…

wise well beyond my years.

“See Dick run! This is Jane. Where is Spot?”

No, I do not write for children.

Not the way you think.

Sometimes, I write epitaphs

to the children some of us

should have, could have been.

— Jen Pezzo

A Visit with Kathy

Her crystal blue eyes cannot hide All the love of life within Love of family, love of friends Sparkle brightly in them.

They dance and laugh Staring straight into mine With excitement to see me Her eyes brightly shine.

Her eyes always searching As I come to cheer Lovingly plotting how To help me while I’m here.

Each time her eyes greet me I am better than before So I return quite often To look into her eyes once more.

Now cancer has closed her eyes

Sparkle extinguished, laughter gone

Yet her crystal blue eyes in my memory flash

And our special friendship lives on.

‐‐ Judy Lasure

October Moon

Oh what a beautiful moon / this October night

Shinning full / with its luminous light

Fishing pole in hand / and expectations high

Catching the moon / through my fishing pole’s eye

Sitting on a rock / by Sandusky Bay

The Marblehead Lighthouse/ guiding the way

Glimmering water / so smooth and tranquil

Catching the moon / through my fishing pole’s eye

Listening to the ripples / gently touching the shore

A Train’s whistle / breaking the silence / no more

Jumping fish/ flash by and by / casting spirits / high in the

sky

Only caught the moon/ through my fishing pole’s eye

Falling leaves / rustle down to the ground

Readying for winter / with one final sound

Leaving memories // never to die

Catching the moon/ through my fishing pole’s eye

— Paul Herrera

How Sweet it Is!


The Library

The Library,

The Library.

What a great place to be!

So many books!

Take a look

And you will see

Books of many sizes, shapes, and varieties.

Open a book

And you can go

To Africa, London, Paris, France, or Italy

Choose your own adventure

Plan a trip

Research your relatives

Unlock the possibilities!

The Library,

The Library


Open a book

Use your imagination!

And you can find

You can go almost anywhere, anytime!

Pretend you are a doctor, a zookeeper, or a mime

When you open a book

You can be whoever you want to be

A lawyer, a farmer, a skydiver

You will see!

The Library,

The Library


Open a book

Take a look!

The library has many, many books

as you can see!

‐‐ Amy Baltzly

“Footprints in the Snow”

On a cold winter day we are ready to go

For a walk in the park

And to leave some footprints in the snow…

My hands are cold and my steps are slow

As we walk along

And leave some footprints in the snow…

There is no one else there

As the cold winter wind begins to blow

I look behind and see our footprints in the snow…

I glance down and smile

At my two‐four legged friends walking below

As we leave some more footprints in the snow…

So when the warm sun comes out

And melts our footprints from the cold snow

Remember the three who left them there

“Love you more than you’ll ever know”…

— Randy D. Logan

Broken but Beautiful

You were injured but not unto death

Teetering on mortality’s edge, you cling to life

Your traumatic past is at times eveident

Next to death is stagnation, so you continue to grow

As you flourish, your beauty takes precedence

All things will eventually reconcile

Your defects will never fully disappear

But, the beauty that is within will surface and time

One day you will realize

Even though I’ve been broken, I am still beautiful

— Tarrah Burton

In Dreams

I fought/ to keep/ her here/ with me,

But heart/ and breath/ were lost/ at sea.

In dreams/ of mind/ we searched/ but failed,

In ends/ no tide/ to shore/ we sailed.

— A.J. Bradley


How Sweet it Is!

Let My Body Lie

Let my body lie,

Let my body lie; do not pick it up. Let my carcass stay to show that I once stood in your way.

Let it show that before I had fallen, I had stood. I had stood for something, And that I fell for something.

Let my body lie, defenseless as I was. Staying here as proof that I fought. Staying here as you slaughtered. Maybe not just me, but others. Whatever that reason, we’ve all fallen.

So let my body lie! One final act of defiance! You obviously did not respect my wishes in life, So respect them in death.

Just let it lie in your way, hindering you one final time. Rebelling in my first new moments as I had done in my last old ones.

And so, Let my body lie not just to show that I have fought, but to show the world that I have died.

— Thea Angel

The Letdown

With the grasp of my hand the devil fed on

my misery, tricked my mind

Confined this pain and heartache

Just to call you mine…

Save me, save can’t you see I’m drowning?

Until I let you go my soul will not

Be Free

Entangled in chains and all things that bind

Your spell has left me enchanted yet

Beautifully Haunted

I define my beauty and strength yet

You compliment me so well

Only you

Have seen me in my truest form

Only you hold the power of my sanity

If you could see the beautiful person

I could never see in me

Breathe

Existence is but a glimmer of my reality

I seek the light that filled my soul

A catalyst to overcome the letdown

— Ashley Grace

How Sweet it Is!


All That We Can Never Measure

Our statistics may be told by numbers:

Our weight in pounds,

Our height in inches,

Our intelligence in points

Our status may be told by possessions:

The car we drive

The home we choose

The clothes we purchase

Yet our story can never be measured:

The weight of grief after the diagnosis

The height of joy when greeting a newborn

The strength of the wish to make life better

The temperature of the focused fire of an athlete

The attachment of a nurturing mother to her child

The sweetness of lilacs’ fragrance after a harsh winter

The circumference of the empty hole left by a tragic loss

The yearning for reunion during a long distance separation

The sharpness of empathy that turns to rage toward injustice

The careful tenderness of the musician crafting a

transcendent moment

All this and more will forever elude the data‐driven scientists.

All this and more will often elude those who judge.

All this and more may even elude us.

‐‐ Karen Dhyanchand

Hush

Blue rain glistens

as it suddenly pours

Holy sorrows

Spilling onto shining river rocks

Listen

Quietly

the crystal drops splatter

to the earth

and into the fast‐flowing stream

Filling to the brim

with warm healing tears

‐Mary Lynne Zahler

Reflections

Black birds perched

upon a barren branch

Silhouetted gainst

a silvery sky

Warm breeze blowing, briskly

through the trees

Paints a pleasant picture

for my eyes.

Soon the sun will set

and shelter they will seek

Fighting, friendly for

a cozy place to sleep

Beaks tucked barely

under feathered wings

One eye open

for emergencies.

Comes the dawn

and daylight decorates the sky

Finding food now

fills the stomach cry

Cheerful, chirping

echoes in the wind

Playful, playing

starts the frolicking.

Once again

upon that barren branch

Black birds perch

till daylight slowly ends

Night is still

and silently they sleep

Warm and cozy,

only to repeat.

— Bessie Vlahos


How Sweet it Is!

A POEM FOR GRANDPA

We love you PaPa—also known as Paw…

You taught us always to obey every law.

You can fix anything we tear apart…

You say you can fix anything except a broken

“heart.”

We love to ride in your Cadillac…

But we prefer riding on your back.

You taught us how to say our prayers…

And to love everyone and show them we care.

We have shared lots of “Happy Times”…

And you told us when we color to stay in the

lines.

You always look so neat and clean…

And told us never, never to be mean.

You love to go on cruises on the sea…

Sometime soon will you please take me?

You take us to the park to swing…

To climb trees and enjoy everything.

We love you and we have a clue…

If our hearts were broken you would

Mend them with your magic glue.

Maybe the magic glue is a mistake…

You probably would use “Duct Tape.”

Love you…

Max and Mary

‐‐ Lillian Steele

What Is Your Story?

Everyone has a story to tell or no tell,

Just study all behaviors around you.

Many emotions are expressed through daily gestures‐‐

Whether it is a hug, a smile, a listening ear or a kind word.

What is your story?

The story you tell today

They will be your children’s windows to the past tomorrow.

Precious goodwill you show to others will teach a stranger‐‐

What will be their story about you?

Understanding others helps you understand yourself,

Imagine if we all observed the world around us.

We all have our ideals, our visions, our goals‐‐

What will people learn from your story?

Family, careers or running to/from daily routines,

At the end of your day

What is the most important thing in your life‐‐

What is your story?

‐‐ Norma Link‐Boughman

Love’s Lore

If I am not the one for you

The tears you shed should prove to you

Our love is true

Your love is true

God blessed us both the day we met

And grew a seed from which is spread

Day in day out

Our feelings flowed

Peace, contentment, flourished bold

Confessed our thoughts

Our future plans

Years ahead in dreams and time

If I was not the one for you

Then this should prove

Our love was true

Your love was true

— Sherry A Morgan

How Sweet it Is!


Oh little leaf

So new and green,

How you grow there

So pristine.

Full of hope,

Full of life,

Yet to learn

Of stress and strife.

As you thrive

In Spring’s warm air,

Having not

A doubt or care.

The gentle rains

Will soon begin.

They’ll help you flourish

And grow within.

More will join you

On empty limbs,

Some dark green,

Some so slim.

It’s summer now,

All bright and sunny

Flowers bloom,

And bees make honey.

Children laugh

And children giggle,

As they run, and jump

And wiggle.

Small resting heads

Beneath your girth,

Their voices rise

With songs of mirth.

Your shade will comfort,

Cool, and shield,

Against the sun’s

Most tepid yield.

Robins nest

Up in your cap,

Chirping wildly

Before they nap.

The nights are subtle,

Warm and balmy.

Crickets chirp

So soft and calmly.

The days grow short,

The nights are chilled.

There’s one last call

Of the whip‐o‐will.

Oh little leaf

Now orange and red,

It’s time to rest

Your sleepy head.

A time of reflection,

Of youthful hours,

Spent amongst

Now faded flowers.

Winter winds

Replace Fall’s splendor.

Your fellow leaves

Will soon surrender.

Hang on to life!

Have a ball!

Make one last wish

Before you fall.

Soon snow will flutter,

Soft and deep,

Fulfill each dream,

Before you sleep!

— Patricia Culp

ODE TO A LEAF

WHERE DO I TURN

Not your concern

But where do I turn

Why must I be th` flower

that cannot bloom

Strugglin` in a place with

very little room

My dreams have become my tomb

Opportunity sprinted past me

You can`t catch smoke,G

A loser I don`t wanna be

But failure surrounds me

I try to keep hopin`

Tough when more doors close

than open

I got what I got

What I need is a shot

Do I join th` Army and fight for a lie?

Don`t think so

What about selling others a quick high?

Hell no to yeayo

Hollered at college,got no reply

Spendin` to stay po`

Hustlin` chicks to spread some thigh

This bro don`t run ho`s

I ain`t really sad

I DO have pen and pad

To tell this story

More loss than glory

Is th` life of many

In this land of plenty

As I travel th` fruited plain

Told to stay in MY lane

Not YOUR concern

WHERE I turn

‐‐ Tony Gamblin


How Sweet it Is!

Stepping Across

Life’s a gift, we give to ourselves,

when we choose to be born.

Before we come, we know our fate;

the circumstance, into which, we’ll

be thrown.

These memories are lost,

from spirit to flesh, when

we are transformed.

The lessons, we needed

to learn in this life, will,

hopefully, bring us a dawn.

An awakened state,

where we’ll see the slate;

there written, is our whole song.

This circle full won,

there’ll come a time,

when,

we step across and go on.

‐‐ Rex Gero

Live, Laugh, Love

a.k. a. The Three L’s

Living in reality instead of

a fantasy world like any normal

child would is very hard indeed.

I admit the fact that

my hard childhood has

made me turn to greed.

Vividly I remember my

childhood with my father.

Even though I hated what

he did to me; and repressed the

memories came back stronger.

Losing my normal childhood

for one of abuse has hurt

me the most.

Amazingly I’ve tried to

forget the worst part

he’d boast.

Understand that every one

makes mistakes does not excuse

what my dad did.

Getting my hopes up that

he’s not looking for me is a

pretty high bid.

Hoping that I’ll be

able to figure out his

mind.

Loving those who don’t

have anyone has always been

my style.

Outreaching to the fact

that everyone needs your

affectionate smile.

Very good you’ve become

better than me.

Even though you’ve

become more than there is to be.

‐‐ Kimberly Porter

Love Story

This is the day we said I do.

I vow to love and care for you.

With this ring I thee wed,

A promise to each other is what we said.

In sickness and in health,

In poverty or in wealth.

Until death do us part.

I love you with all my heart.

And so I must say

That starting this day,

I will be faithful and true

To my one and only, that's you.

‐‐ Stephanie R. Schank

How Sweet it Is!


AnyCity, USA

A noose on the sidewalk

A deity’s face in smog

A dingy bus stop

A weekend rent‐a‐cop

Convenience, paper trails

Overflowing garbage pails

Instant this and that

Roadkill on the railroad track

Bog eyed people find just a trace

Of how it was

In consumer waste

Castaways

Polluted days

Deluded ways to numb the pain of acid rain

It’s all the same.

Pop those pills, end the chills, find some thrills again

But don’t dare try to mend your head

Cuz more than likely you’ll wind up dead!

Modern society kills.

Welcome to AnyCity, USA

We used to dream, things used to change

Once you enter there is no escape!

A neglected library shelf

A depleted sense of self

Genesha’s eyes

Seen in a high

You come down after that

Apartment is trashed

A looted school

A pompous list of rules

Churches in the hood

If he still could I don’t know if He would.

The writing on the wall was washed off by regulation.

Your heart on your sleeve is a dress code violation.

A garbage ridden cemetery lot

They’d be so surprised to see how far this world has

got.

Welcome to AnyCity, USA

We used to dream, things used to change

Once you enter there is no escape.

‐‐ Christl Dorie

Drawing Circles

My father sleeps

on the couch downstairs,

the room lit by the din of the tv.

He is dying and takes measured breaths,

lips pinched in close to make a circle of his

mouth.

Sometimes late at night

after drinking some beers,

I smoke one of his cigarettes

outside by the street

where there is finally

no traffic. But I can hear

over the tops of trees

the unceasing buzz of motors on the highway

miles from the house

in this neighborhood that used to be still,

that used to rest,

and it is then that I wish

the night would swallow me whole.

‐‐ Larry Catsonis

What Should I EAT

You “are what you eat” is what they all say

So if I eat pork, will I oink all day?

And if I gobble a hamburger down

Will I eat all the grass, and moo all around?

What if I choose to eat fried chicken, would you

reckon

That I would eat worms, and really start peckin?

So maybe a vegetarian is what I should be,

But would I go green, and look like a tree?

Well, what’s left is to eat me some colorful fruit

At least I’ll be little, and round, and so cute!

— Vicki Hopkins


How Sweet it Is!

love saga

blind date in November

our saga began

compact red car

chariot for an inaugural kiss

Valentine’s Day exchange of first gifts

chocolates, a wallet

myriad of dates

dinners, movies, walks

plane trip to Vegas

exquisite elopement

jobs, houses, cars, relatives

problems times two

twenty‐five ensuing Novembers

our saga continues

— Valentina Ranaldi‐Adams

Grandpas Guests

A flying saucer landed in

My Grandpas yard one day.

Three aliens came out of it

They said they could not stay.

They ate some milk and cookies as

Grandpa stared at the strange sight.

They thanked him for his gracious snack

And then resumed their flight.

I’m not sure I believe it,

(Grandpa is getting quite old).

But his neighbors say they saw it too,

At least that’s what I’m told.

So as I sit and stare each night

At the stars so far away,

I wonder if those saucer guys

Will be back again someday.

— T. David Zwick Copyright © by T. David Zwick. All rights reserved

THE HUMMING BIRD AT GRANDPA’S HOUSE

ONCE I SAW A HUMMING BIRD IT FASCINATED ME SO MUCH…

I KNEW IT WAS SOMETHING I COULD NEVER TOUCH.

IT DRANK THE RED SUGAR WATER AS IT FLAPPED ITS LITTLE

WINGS…

I LOVED THIS LITTLE BIRD SO MUCH IT MADE MY HEART SING.

WHEN I GOT HOME MY MOTHER SAID...”WATCH THE BUMBLE‐

BEES THEY ARE ALMOST THE SAME.”

BUT TO ME THE HUMMING BIRD WAS A GODDESS

YOU COULD NEVER TAME.

I HAVE BUMBLE‐BESS, BLUE JAYS AND CARDINALS

THAT ARE MY LITTLE CHUMS…

BUT I WOULD TRADE ALL OF THEM FOR

JUST ONE THAT HUMS.

‐‐ Don Steele

LOVE ME NOW

Love me now – not when I’m gone.

Don’t send me flowers when I’m dead.


Send me flowers today, instead.

Tell me that you love me.

Make me feel good.

Give me a hug right now,

When you should.


Today, you have a chance to kiss me.

Love me now – not when I’m gone;

Because, someday, I think you’ll miss

me.

— A. Dianne Oliger

How Sweet it Is!


It had to be by accident, That a plane crashed into a building so tall, Although a thought it could be intentional, That reason; was very small.

But, again…a flash; as bright as the sun, Brought to the reality of the day, Lives lost, cries for help, And the world begins to pray.

Our country was not safe, As death came down from the sky, And this would not be the end, In shock, we wonder…’Why?’

Surely, there was bravery, As a plane crashed into the ground, Lives lost; but many more saved, Because that target would not be found.

A few terrorists; their hate on display, Believing they died for a cause, Not a care for all the innocent, They abide by no ones laws.

Firemen, Doctors, and strangers too, Thousands with compassion, love and caring, Many lost their lives as well, Simply because, their help, to be sharing.

Frantic loved ones make a call, Giving thanks, when an answer heard, Yet, others can only keep trying, Praying, to hear their loved ones words.

We question our Leaders, and ask ‘How?’ This can’t happen in a country so strong, But, on this September day, Something went terribly wrong.

And now they talk of fighting back, Even if more innocent lives are lost, Their anger taking charge, Demanding revenge…at any cost.

Can’t blame them for their thoughts, Somehow, it may help ease the pain, Retaliation is the only answer, So this tragedy will never happen again.

Don’t take an innocent child of God, To pay for the terrorists deeds, Don’t let the evil prevail, Stop the hatred, which evil feeds.

If we blindly take innocent lives, We would be as evil as they, Maybe we should go in prayer, And ask God what He might say.

This did not make our country weak, A power of strength still flows, With love, caring and support, Our country we’ll continue to grow.

Take your sadness and sorrow, Give your Lord, the burden to bear, Gather in your place of worship, Take your heart to Him in prayer.

‐‐ Donna M. Robinson

Attack on America September 11, 2001


How Sweet it Is!

My Grandma is an Angel

I have a special grandma, whose face I only see

in picture books and photographs, but I know that

she loves me.

If she could, she’d rock me in my favorite chair, real

slow.

She’d sweetly sing a lullaby while rocking to and fro.

You see, my grandma is an angel; she lives with God

above.

Her spirit’s all around me, so I can feel her love.

I have a special grandma, whose home is far away.

I know my grandma loves me, she hears me when I

pray.

If she could, she’d knit a special blanket just for me.

She’d wrap me up and keep me warm,

I’d feel so snuggle‐ly.

But, my grandma is an angel; it’s Heaven where she

lives.

When I wrap my arms around myself, I feel the hug

she gives.

I have a special grandma, she can’t walk through the

door,

but her love is here beside me, I couldn’t sense it

more.

If she could, she’d take her hands and gently hold

my face.

She’d kiss my cheeks and then my nose and bless me

with God’s Grace.

For my grandma is an angel; God gives her special

chores.

She lets me know in her own way, it’s me that she

adores.

I have a special grandma, she can’t call me on the

phone,

but she speaks to me inside my heart without a dial

tone.

If she could, she’d read me books and tell me nurs‐

ery rhymes.

She’d teach me how to count to ten, we’d have

some special times.

A Lover and a Dreamer

A lover and a dreamer crossed each other’s paths

one day.

The lover’s mind was open to what the dreamer had

to say.

The dreamer’s arms were open to what the lover

loved to do.

But, the dreamer’s dreams were dreamy and lover’s

love was too.

‐‐ Christine J. Costilow

Class Reunion

We gather to chitchat, exchange family photos

An update each other, for how long who knows?

We begin a discussion of serious topics.

Surgery and illness soon correlate,

Politics becomes too hot to handel.

Culture and arts seem scarcely to rate___

To good old days the don’t hold a candle!

Worse subject of all is the nation’s fate.

A wheel of misfortune, the earthly rundle.

We go on to recall with viewpoints myopic

Old arguments, insults, even comments uncouth.

Regressing to teen age we show little growth.

With every word we parry and thrust, like

venom‐filled snakes poised to strike.

Disastrous momentum toward rancorous rage___

Have we not yet come of age?

‐‐ Irene Marquart

I know my grandma is an angel; she’s lucky, you

might say,

for she walks with God and talks with God…. each

and every day!

I have a special grandma, she’s loved me from the

start,

I have a special place for her, right here inside my

heart.

‐‐ Brenda Timberlake

How Sweet it Is!


She wears her heart

On her sleeve;

While she tends

To her throne;

They all say

She's a failure;

But I say

That is wrong.

People first, judgement last;

Moments noticed, moments past;

Holds her hands out in grace;

Only to place shame on her name.

Her emotions high,

Running strong;

Says she will

just roll along;

Speaks her mind,

Bites her tongue;

People may call her a failure,

But they're dead wrong.

Oh my sweet green eyed lady;

You stand by oh so sweetly

With poise and such serene;

Your lasting impression's with me.

It may seem shallow and crass,

But I would publish it to the mass;

That you are wonderful to me;

My gorgeous green ‐ jalousie.

She wears her heart

On her sleeve;

Emotions first,

Decisions last;

Done with poise,

Sealed with class;

And she smiles

While she strides;

Keeping her head

Way up high.

A failure to who?

I feel to her much is due.

Oh my sweet green eyed lady;

You stand by oh sweetly

With poise and such serene;

Your lasting impressions's with me.

It may seem shallow, somewhat crass,

But I would publish it to the mass;



And when she takes me

By the hand,

Turns me around and

Catches me again;

Each time I fall,

Her beauty shines enough

To catch me and raise me up.

Emotions first,

Business last;

She goes

Nowhere fast;

Bad decisions

And regret;

Somehow yet...

It may seem shallow somewhat crass,

But I would publish you to the max;



You may never know all you mean to

me;


— Mandy Giust

Green‐Eyed Monster


How Sweet it Is!

Have You Forgotten

Have you forgotten the dark piano bar,

the cloud‐dimmed dusk, the steady drip of rain,

and, later, clothing scattered near and far,

the warming, clearing skies, the morning star,

champagne?

Have you forgotten Niagara's rumbling roar,

the crack of calving ice in Hubbard Bay,

the gaudy light's long Key West sunset shore,

the one last day in Paris just before

it's May?

Have you forgotten it all, and all so soon;

don’t you recall the phosphorescent sea,

the beach, the stars, the driftwood fire, the moon,

the wine, the bread, the cheese, that sad, sad tune,

and me?

— Marcus Bales

The White Tiger

Somewhere in the woods stalks a beast laid out in

white,

this area he owns be it day or night.

He watches your every move

as he closes in for the kill;

you fear something's wrong

as your senses give you a chill.

There is nothing to find,

your eyes seem to say,

but you know he's out there

stalking his prey.

You wandered into his lair,

and for this you must pay,

for him it's not personal;

there's just no other way.

His skills have been honed over thousands of years,

he is cold and unforgiving in spite of your tears.

A killing machine like no other around,

he can prowl the jungle without making a sound.

His ears can hear a whisper;

his eyes can see through night,

his jaws can crush a victim with unrelenting might.

You yell out for help

but your efforts are in vein, the snow will tell the tale

with your blood as its stain.

At last you have hope

for up ahead you see the way;

you head for shelter as fast as you may.

You're almost there,

a miracle it does seem,

your face cracks a smile

and your eyes begin to gleam.

You arrive at the shelter

not a moment too soon

for day is turning to night

and the sun to the moon.

You look up to the heavens

to say a thankful prayer,

you'll live to see another day

if just by a hair.

You almost start to laugh

as you open the wooden door

but the last thing you'll hear

is the tiger's mighty roar.

‐‐ Chris Howard

Alarm Clock

A black beast stalks my placid slumber.

Still darkness pierced by green eyes glowing electric,

Intensely staring at its motionless prey

Hungrily lurking, waiting for its morning meal.

Cruelly melting minutes, making time pass,

Eagerly advancing the waking hour,

The silent laughter torments my peace.

With a sudden shout the silence is shattered –

Through heavily clouded eyes I become the hunted

Scrambling for sense and security through the haze, I

Rush to find the path to end my suffering.

Able to tame the beast’s ferocity one more time,

The villain recoils with visions of its strike on the mor‐

row,

When with weakened strength, I may not be able to

conquer

The uncertainty that waits beyond the black beast.

— Andrew Richardson

How Sweet it Is!


Page Name Poem Name

12 Angel, Thea Let My Body Lie

22 Bales, Marcus Have You Forgotten

11 Baltzly, Amy The Library

11 Bradley, Andrew In Dreams

11 Burton, Tarrah Broken but Beautiful

5 Cassidy, Noreen K. Living in a Fantasy

17 Catsonis, Larry Drawing Circles

5 Cook, Carla A. How Do You

20 Costilow, Christine A Lover and a Dreamer

15 Culp, Patricia Ode to a Leaf

8 DeVaul‐Tonges, Cindy I Can Dance

13 Dhyanchand, Karen All That We Can Never Measure

6 Dickson, Michael/Frost

The Christmas Wish

17 Dorie, christL Anycity, USA

15 Gamblin, Tony Where Do I Turn

16 Gero, Rex Stepping Across

21 Giust, Mandy Green‐Eyed Monster

12 Grace, Ashley The Letdown

10 Herrera, Paul October Moon

17 Hopkins, Vicki What Should I Eat

22 Howard, Chris The White Tiger

7 Jones, Gonzalee The Front Row

10 Lasure, Judy A Visit with Kathy

4 Lim, Sungeun Two words I couldn't say

14 Link‐Boughman, Norma

What Is Your Story

11 Logan, Randy D. Footprints in the Snow

20 Marquart, Irene Class Reunion

6 Martin, Min Joo Finding the Light

Page Name Poem Name

14 Morgan, Sherry A. Love's Lore

4 Nicholas, Nancy Spring Crocuses

18 Oliger, A. Dianne Love Me Now

10 Pezzo, Jen Merrily We Go 'Round Again

7 Phillips, Dan Landfill of Memories

16 Porter, Kimberly Live, Laugh, Love

13 Quinnan Zahler, Mary Lynne

Hush

18 Ranaldi‐Adams, Valentina

Love Saga

4 Reyes, Luisa Kay Shirley Temple

22 Richardson, Andrew Alarm Clock

19 Robinson, Donna M. Attack on America Sept. 11, 2001

16 Schank, Stephanie R. Love Story

6 Singh, Christine M. Exit

18 Steele, Don The Hummingbird at Grandpa's House

14 Steele, Lillian A Poem for Grandpa

7 Stolarik, Nancy One of my Own

20 Timberlake, Brenda My Grandma is an Angel

13 Vlahos, Bessie Reflections

5 Waller, Shannon Muse Addict

9 Williams, PJ and Oslager, PJ

A Sister's Love

4 Woods, Richard A Lovely Thought

18 Zwick, T. David Grandpa's Guests

Thank You to the following sponsors who provided refreshments for our

Poetry Café and Open Mic Night.

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