Friday, January 28, 2011



As I sit here, fingers snapping,
on the keys I’m gently tapping.
Words appear and lightly shimmer, 
often without any glimmer 
of a route I may be mapping.

On my Muse’s door I’m rapping, 
hoping that the thing’s not napping.
But that hope is getting slimmer 
as I sit here.

Adjectives and verbs I’m scrapping.
Broken-winged, my thoughts are flapping 
while my mood is getting grimmer 
trying to hold on to dimmer 
thoughts my tired Muse ain’t trapping 
as I sit here.

By Wayne De Priest

Lust is power
By Elyzabeth Snow

Lust is power, but not comparable to a dictatorship—it is a bond between two.
It is a force in which two people share between each other; unbreakable, sometimes unbearable.
It is the power that increases blood flow in your accelerating heart even when only the slightest thought of the significant other comes to mind.
Lust is love’s seed.
It is the reason to breathe once it is embraced; to thrive and to make the other smile and feel the same about you.
It makes you tingle from your head to your toes. Your insides kick start yet your body starts to weaken.
Pain in your lips from biting them as you try and hold yourself back from making your dreams a reality—tongue dancing behind your clenched teeth: its so hard to hold back.
Twiddling thumbs try and veer your attention from something so beautiful… its going to happen… you both know it.
Your heart beats faster and faster as your mouth begins to open—lips softened. And there it is. A sweet, simple yet amazing kiss planted so lightly on each others’ lips.
Physically, it’s like a butterfly landing on the most beautiful of flowers; mentally, like an atomic bomb has been planted in your gut and an explosion has taken place in your soul.
Caught in the moment, more is craved.
You want more!
More everything!
This firework feeling utterly consuming.

Billy came to me just the other night,
his body was battered, what a terrible sight.

But nothing could prepare me for what I saw next,
poor Billy's arms burned by cigarettes.

He pleaded and begged me not to tell of what I knew,
but I couldn't do that, could you?

I heard on the news Billy lost the fight,
he died in his mother's arms tonight.

By: Paula Claire Hamel (Roberts)


you slip through my fingers
grain by grain
like sand
like slow death
steal away 
nothing left
but ash and memories
and false hopes
On a beach
under a gray sky
looking out over an empty ocean
I wait in vain
For your return
But the waves
They crash in
leaving nothing
but grooves in the shore.

By Megan Bostic

I Remember Well

The ocean waves were cold that day
You tiptoed near then ran away,
Then giggled like a child at play
Dancing through the misted spray.
I felt my heart just slip away
Yes I remember well.
We walked beneath the cloudless sky
Then raced a sail boat drifting by,
You stood and watched a heron fly
But turned with moisture in your eye
And asked, “Why do we have to die.”
Yes I remember well.
I’m sure it started on that day
You turned inside, just slipped away,
No longer does that child play
No dancing in the summer spray.
And I will never hear you say
“Yes I remember well.”

By Alan Gilbert


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