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ORIGINAL WORKS: Romantic Sad Humorous Old Favorites Wish I'd Said That Nature Thoughtful Patriotic One-liners Limericks Friendship Life In General Happy Family First Love Dreams Dogs & Cats Memories Cowboy Poetry Paint a Word Picture Holiday Themes Nursery Rhymes Music Sports Political Religious Travel Collected Works Ballad Poems POET LAUREATES: Elizabeth Santos N.G. "Gary" Stapp FOR FUN: •NEW: Crossword Puzzle •Magnetic Poetry •Shakespearean Insults •What time is it where you are?  ABOUT US: From the Editor Favorite Links Copyright Info		Editor's Pick: I sought my soul But my soul I could not see. I sought my God But my God eluded me. I sought my mother And found all three. -- Submitted by Terry Roberts from West Plains, MO e-mail: fifi_420@yahoo.com    Editor's Pick: REMEMBERANCE  It's not my hand that heals man, and guides the silken blade. Nor bridges built to great expand, with brick expertly laid. Take pity on the artist brush, it lies tortured by my stroke. A voice that calls for greatness hushed, though fires I have stoked. How will I be remembered when, the life I know is through. The gifts contained within this pen, are all I have for you. Though greatness may not with me dwell, my love for life I pray they tell.  -- Submitted by Jerry Ackerman from Syracuse, New York e-mail: ackermang@nvg.com   Editor's Pick: THE BASIS I never promised to be perfect. Nor asked for you to be. I never needed much at all, Just your respect for me.  The things we said were different. Our opinions weren't the same. And it seemed to add some contrast, Our debating was a game.  But it seems we've lost direction, And the cost seems rather high. Debate has become argument. What have we done? And why?  You misconstrue my interest As "I'm prying" so I'm told. Attempts I make to bond with you Get labeled as "control."  I thought our love would be enough To keep us firmly grounded. Where exactly do we stand Within this love we've founded?  Have we forgotten creativity? Each viewpoint heard in turn? Our basis? Our foundation? Our friendship and concern?  What have we done? Where did we go? What purpose? Where's the gain? Stubborn. Cold. Unwilling. The basis of our pain.  -- Submitted by Judith Lynn Pullins-McGuire from Phoenix, AZ e-mail: Leggy1_1967@msn.com THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE The house seems so quiet Now the kids are all in school The phone doesn't ring all day The silence like a jewel.  Everything I put away For once stays in its place Toys in their toybox Puts a smile upon my face.  There isn't any fighting Over what cartoon to see I can catch up on my soaps Curled up by the TV  I can eat my entire lunch Answering nary a question There is no constant chattering To give me indigestion. The rooms somehow seem bigger With no one here at home I bet I could hear my echo In this big house all alone.  I turned to mention something To the kid sitting in the chair But when I turned around to talk There was nobody there.  I didn't have to constantly shout Not to slam the door Nor did I have to labor Wiping footprints off the floor.  I can hear minutes ticking The clock sounds way too loud Counting off the hours Til again returns the crowd.  The silence ringing in my ears Makes me about to lose my cool Ok! Ok! I finally give! I can't wait til they're home from school! -- Submitted by Patty Palmer from Sharon, PA e-mail: pattyp224@hotmail.com RAMBLINGS OF AN OLD FOOL As I walk up and down On the streets of my home town And through aisles and corridors Of shops and department stores, I see people rushing around And hear the bustle and the sound That they make on their way In the pursuit of the day. And my tired and failing eyes View each of these passer byes As a candle that shines about And then flickers and burns out. And yet they seem unaware, Or perhaps they just don't care, About the ultimate fate That awaits them at death's gate. In my mind's eye I see them all As skeletons, some short others tall, Which move or stand around waiting, Just piles of dust in the making. Fools! Do they ever think of tomorrow? Do they grasp the meaning of sorrow? That sorrow that comes with knowing That life's essence is only out-flowing? From birth we begin to die, And from the time of our first cry We all, the coward and the brave, Start on the journey to the grave. In the pursuit of the daily bread We all seem to forget the thread That links the beginning to the end And which has no curve or back bend. Ah! How ironic it is to celebrate Year in and year out the birth date Of a child, or anyone, as if 't was our wish To speed him towards the finish. What's the point of propagation Given that the final destination Amounts to nothing more than dirt Or ash mingled with a pair of pants, or a skirt? Perhaps I shouldn't see things as I do Nor hold such a cynical view on life, it's true. Maybe I should just live from day to day And not look that far along the way, And just follow life's twists and bends Without a thought of how and where it ends. But then that would not be me And I'd loose what little autonomy I still have, and should I be asked to try I'd have to say, "No can do! Not I." -- Submitted by A.V. Fenton from Empangeni, South Africa e-mail: mwfenton@iafrica.com WHERE TO FIND ME Should you wish to find me Amidst earth's chaos and woes You'll seek for all eternity For where I am no one knows.  But should you look up at night These pointers to you I'll give For if you follow the stars' light You'll find the place where I live.  Follow the path to Orion And then through to Sagittarius, Turn right at the place of the Lion And proceed to Aquarius.  Rest for a while at Gemini For there's still a long way to go And whilst there you should try To reflect on the things you know.  Discard what baggage you brought As where I am all that you'll need Is a clear mind, freedom of thought, And the flexibility of a reed.  Then move on at your own pace, There is no need now to hurry, For you're no longer in the rat race And there's no further call for worry.  Take the path that leads to Aries And then on to Capricorn; The distance between them never varies A 'constant' since they were born.  And when you get to Pisces Pick up the 'wand of enlightenment' Which, when yours, it releases Peace of mind and contentment.  Go past Libra and Cancer, Virgo and Scorpio too; The four act as the enhancer Of all that is really true.  Taurus will provide the needs Of the faint hearted and the weak By planting in them the seeds Of the courage and wisdom they seek.  You are now getting near To the place that I call home, Where no heartache or fear Can ever penetrate its dome.  And if by Truth you have been led You will then exit this Universe And, in the brightest light ahead, You'll find me ... in prose and verse. -- Submitted by A.V. Fenton from Empangeni, South Africa e-mail: mwfenton@iafrica.com Mom, Mother, Mommy, Mum See what hath the Earth become Would you stop it if you could Turn the clock back if it should  If you saw two drunken sailors Fighting in the street at night Would you step in Stop the fight  Would they fight another day Would they stand or walk away Should they forget, should they regret Or would they make each other pay  To us we say each dawn a day And surely comes the morrow But standing close as times before Is destruction, death and sorrow  So should they finish fights today Or fight again tomorrow  There is a clock inspired of gods And crafted in pure gold That keeps track of all the nuances Of things you can behold  If you could Would you stop the fight Stop the fight Stop  Or is this nature On its course To start a new tomorrow -- Submitted by Josh Brinkworth from Seattle, WA e-mail: imthefool@hotmail.com LOST YOUR MUSE?  When your muse fails to inspire And no ink flows from your pen, It is then, that you must dig To find those things deep down within.  What makes you laugh, rejoice and cry And keeps the things in you alive? What view of life do you see; Tell us your view and philosophies.  Look out your window and tell me, What it is that you now see. If it's beauty or it's blight, That my friend, is what you write.  So tell me now, is your muse still dead And nothing there running through your head? If there's nothing new you see; Then my friend, just write of me.  Write of your view of me you see That may be just your fantasy; Make me tall, short or thin Or anything you see within.  Make me fly with wings not clipped And place in me what isn't there; Paint me white and sugar dipped But please, oh please, don't paint me bare.  Within this write may be your muse So pick now which one you choose; Write of happy or of sad On a napkin or scratchpad. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com THE LOOKING GLASS  Stones pitted against my window At the reflection that I see; Viewing from the other side, A different view of me.  PIT, PIT, PIT, PIT; Marring up the glass. Now what I see reflection there, An injured, bloodied mass.  Step away, no need to view; Reflection now is shattered, For the view, I used to see; Now, no longer mattered.  The person seen, I knew as me Was changed by a misjudgment And now the ones, who threw the stones, Have marred what I now see. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com THE MAGIC TOUCH  Such magic in a mother's kiss And power in her hugs That can heal the deepest pain Or dry a flow of tears.  Her arms can make secure, A child filled with fright And chase away the boogie man That comes to him at night.  With just one softly spoken word, A child's eyes made bright And with the words, I love you, Everything made right.  Such magic in a mother's kiss Can't heal the grown-up pain, When her hugs no longer sooth Or stop the flow of rain.  If every mom could have one wish, I'm sure that it would be, That the magic in her touch Could set her children free.  Today is not tomorrow, So today, I still have power, With just one kiss, one gentle hug; Turn weeds into a flower. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com IN TOO DEEP  A big bull frog had jumped and found Himself no longer on the ground. A pail of water, cold and deep, That from its' grasp, he couldn't leap.  I saw him struggling to be free And for his plight, I soon found pity; I dumped the pail but feared to touch This creature ugly, warts and such.  I'm thankful for the souls who see, My warts and yet, they pity me, When in the water, I too, take leap And find myself in there too deep. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com WEDDING BLESSING Wedding Blessings come your way, In honor of your special day. Exchanging vows and wedding rings, Brings so many precious things. Dresses, suits, and wedding bells, Presents, cake, and wishing wells; Tear-stained cheeks and a happy grin, Show the love that's deep within. From the church to the hall, You're both loved by one and all. -- Submitted by Alice K. Monahan from Shelby, Michigan e-mail: Smiiles8888@aol.com THE GIRL...  From braids to bobs From tennies to formals Life in the twinkling of an eye Girlhood dreams Metamorph to fancy or Are lost on the way side From the past a whisper to the future both eyes open Now they flutter in the glare. How light and carefree a girl She resides within yet She is the stuff of the past that makes the now She is magic beyond compare she is me and I am her We only forget the magic, it never disappears Life without a magic lens is no life at all. -- Submitted by Michael Dimas from Los Angeles, CA e-mail: mdimas50@yahoo.com THE HOPE OF SPRING  Silver threads that weave among the brown, Show the sign that summer's gone, And the ruts left by the storms, Seen in the furrowed frown.  Slower now the gait that ran When spring was here and spirit free But it is now approaching winter: This season sees the bent down tree.  Memories linger of birds that left, But seeing now, an empty nest. Hearing still, the songs that rang, Throughout the summer when life was best  When silver threads have turned to white And the final season has come too fast: It is then envisioned, the hope of spring, While sadly letting go, the seasons past. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com THE PASSING YEARS  Each year passes and then another; I seem not to see the passing of the years. My mirror shows change but unnoticed when viewed day by day, it seems.  Viewing old videos forces me out of denial; The years have flown and I now see how fast. Just babies, they were just babies not so long ago, But it must have been longer than just yesterday.  Another summer and he comes again…but…. Who is this young man with a voice that's changing? Where is the baby boy that I bounced upon my knee. Glasses replaced by contacts, I notice the beauty of his eyes and I think how much he now looks like his mom.  That baby girl, too small to walk, she now is dressed in bras. Have I grown shorter for she's now almost as tall as me. I again move to the mirror; yes, the years have passed, I can see it now. How had it gone unnoticed?  Moving away now from grandma and grandpa, What can they say to gram and pop? Country music verses rap; old fashioned folks. Once again, I pop in a video. Roll back, roll back, Bring back those pass gone years, roll back.  I will listen to their rap and learn to play Nintendo, Remember not to talk too loud when their friends are near. Give them a hug when no one's looking And try not to let them see when I dye my hair.  When they walk down the isle, I hope to be there too, And maybe when those great grandkids come; I won't be too old to bounce them on my knee. Once again, there will be videos but these not meant for me; Memories of gram and pop to remember when we're gone. -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com SO WHAT IF I CAN'T...  I can't run the fastest I can't swim the sea I can't type the quickest but I love being me  I can't kick a ball or even climb a tree I can't roll in the grass but I still love being me  You see, this is my life as others would see they don't know what it's like to really be me  So next time I'm about rolling down the street don't think of me disabled but someone cool to meet  I have lots I can teach you I have loads I can share you will never gain my wisdom if you just point and stare  So maybe I can't run the fastest maybe I can't kick a ball but I wouldn't change being me not for you, not at all -- Submitted by Gemma Hayton from Surrey, England e-mail: Gemimapudd1educk@aol.com WHAT IS LIFE? Life is the capacity to minimize anxiety To rebuild the shattered dreams of society Life is the ability to engage In respectful and considerate argument. Try to understand  Life is the knowledge That spiritual mutation Will surely be the next step For all of mankind. Try to feel  Life is the effort To maintain ecosystems And to attempt to understand Other entities that co-exist with us. Try to serve  Life is the ability not to fear To fully understand and accept That existence may only be An intense flame between eternities of blackness. Try to accept  Life is the willingness to question technology Life is a poet seeking truth Life is you As part of me Try to love ©D.S. 2002  -- Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu In this realm of steel and stone, I sit under this speckled sky, wandering aimlessly in my mind, and with each dimension of dementia, I walk a new path of trials, ignorant of its future, I absorb each variable as they arise, answers come in scarce intervals, and with each conjured conclusion, intangible is the would-be knowledge of their correctness, which lies solely in the unforeseen future of a different path, at a different time of existence, whose own trials will discern, the validity of previous conclusions. -- Submitted by John J. Kaiser from Ft. Myers, FL e-mail: alphakaiser6@webtv.net GROWING TOGETHER  The melding of two bodies, The surging of two souls; Love between the two of us Keeps us from growing old. It was on the day we married, The day we said I do; It was then I made you mine, The proof that I loved you. Now the years are passing And we can hardly see, Where the one of us begins or the other person ends. Growing old together, What a special way to age. Together we have grown Like oregano and sage.  -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com COURAGE  Longing for death when God says live; Such an easy out, this thing called death. But you feel, what more in life to give, When life hurts you with every breath.  Like a prisoner of war, your life in chains; You want an escape and death sounds best. When only pain and regret in life remains; The only thing you can think about is rest.  Courage is needed to walk through life And many travelers walk it wounded. No one is sprinting without strife, No matter how the story ended.  Today I pity a man that yesterday I envied; What difference, you say, in just one day? Plenty, my friend, plenty; for today he was emptied, But not of choice, of fortune he held just yesterday.  Take my hand and I'll walk with you As we trod these hills and valleys. For I, like you, have troubles too; Let's walk together down life's alleys.   -- Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North Carolina e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com Feel the 'Ah!' of things  Notice the pure, polished pebbles That lie scattered after the rain, Or touch the velvet of petals That hold dew pearls, Listen to the song of birds in spring Or feel the gentle warmth of the sun, Watch the beauty of the mountains Bathed in the glow of moonlight, Or feel the power of the turbulent waves And know --- hidden in the depths, At the core of every existence Lies the supreme, divine reality That binds YOU and ME And all ETERNITY. (Inspired by a reading of the great spiritual leader Sri Aurobindo) -- Submitted by Shobha Nayar Pandit from Jamshedpur, India e-mail: shobhapandit@rediffmail.com NIGHT TIME POEMS Here I sit, struggling to write. I have a dull pencil and one dim light. Writting poems until 11:16, this whole thing is just crazy! I stare in my dark room, to try and find something to write about, I can't find anything, so I sit here and pout. My eyes begin to fall, I can't think at all. My brain became numb, and my writing inspiration just won't come... Until tomorrow that is  -- Submitted by Jordan from Katy, TX e-mail: DarkWaterTavern@aol.com
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