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Editor's Pick:
THE ROAD NOT TAKENWould things have really been so different
Would the world really have been so shaken
If when I were a much younger man
I had chosen the road not takenWould the days have been any the brighter
Or the nights darker than they are
Would I still have lived in such obscurity
Or shined brighter than any starIt does little good to wonder
Of things that might have been
For who, and what I have become
I must live with in the endThough life could have been much better
All in all I do not feel forsaken
I count the blessings that I have
And cry not of the road not taken-- Submitted by William Kite from Glenwood, Iowa
e-mail: wkite@hotmail.com
Editor's
Pick:
BACK SPACES
Gazing
out my window
I thought of yesterdays
The faces and the gestures
And how the laughter fades
Wondered
if you're happy
Or if you found your way
From long nights in November
And the promise that we made
--
Submitted by Jeff Kurfess from Parma, MI
e-mail: kurfess@modempool.com
Did
she have stories never told? Just
my mother, not really real, Mothers,
they are always there, I
sat to listen of memories of old We
laughed and cried, just two gals, --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, NC The
knife cuts deeply to the core We
loved beside a diamond bay Dark
shadows danced around the two Unhappiness
would be my fate I
watch the drama now unfold Perhaps
the love I lost in youth If
I were meant to live again --
Submitted by Elizabeth Santos
from
Pottstown, PA Would
you love me less intensely if my thoughts were less
profound Would
you love me with less passion if the twilight
didn't creep Would
your eyes be less inclined to notice little things
I do Would
your love be less exiting if I didn't share my
dreams All
these questions posed in haste within a moment's
happiness --
Submitted by Elizabeth Santos
from
Pottstown, PA You
have to have luck A
heart of gold Your
enchanted eyewitness I'm
in your corner ©D.S.
2002 --
Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA So
many times I think of death When
I close my eyes at night Though
in life, I always wake, A
world where no more tears are shed --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina From
the content of the heart; You
look amazed at words in ink Is
it truly filled with light, Muddy
dark that tends to smear From
the inkwell of the heart, --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina Words
flowing from within the heart From
within the heart come the words No
one needs to walk alone Reaching
out to the one in pain What
is it that affirms a Poet's Soul? ©
07/01/01 James
A. Browning --
Submitted by James A. Browning from Janesville,
Wisconsin The
day starts fresh in the morning, Traffic
starts getting heavier, Mid-day
sees the blazing sun, The
setting sun turns orange in color, --
Submitted by SRIRAM.M.A. from Bangalore, Karnataka,
India An
addiction to learning The
power of consciousness The
goal of positive action ©D.S.
2002 --
Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA She's
nuts, tis true, But
of life Because
we see Thus
we call a poet so --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina Severe
sensory isolation The
growing awareness ©D.S.
2002 --
Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA Things
aren't really You're
not really ugly You
have a great sense of humor You're
thoughtful and caring Don't
listen to those I'm
saying it now, --
Submitted by Elizabeth from Dartmouth, NS,
Canada Pour
out your heart --
Submitted by Robert Ditchman from Mentor on the
Lake, Ohio Beyond
this realm, I seem to see Fragments
seep beyond the veil; Old
music connects within my heart What
in the past that keeps it sad; --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina Internal
stresses and conflicts Duress
with regularity Persistent
exercise and diet ©D.S.
2002 --
Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA Consideration
of the space curve A
golden elegance Angry
objections The
function of a civilization ©D.S.
2002 --
Submitted by David Soriano from Bradford, PA I
rented space within my head Should
it be that I evict; Too
many years of renting space; The
cost was mine and I to pay; --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina The
weeds reach out to grasp the life The
house needs paint and much repair I
see another gray hair has surfaced The
years have brought their wear and tear I
pull the gray hairs and the weeds --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina God
gave fragrance to the flowers But
I can't help but wonder, Was
it, for us, a lesson shown When
a summer storm has passed, May
I never grow so blind So
when the thorns begin to sting, --
Submitted by Gloria Sarasin from Trinity, North
Carolina The
hush of early morning --
Submitted by Robert Ditchman from Mentor on the
Lake, Ohio
JUST MY MOTHER
Ones she lived so long ago?
Would I have listened if she did?
She was my mom and me a kid.
is this the way, of her, I feel?
Did she love, did she cry?
Was there a time I asked her why?
too many times we aren't aware,
that they are people just like us,
to remember that would be a plus.
as my mother talked of long ago.
She spoke of Daddy and his faults
and of dancing to the Tennessee Waltz.
not mother and daughter, just two pals.
She was just my mother so I didn't know
that she had actually lived so long ago.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
The spirit bleeds forever more
A pain to last a whole life long
But who's to say if this is wrong
That flashed the sun in bright of day
And glittered in the starry night
But who's to say that it was right
Not wanting joy for me and you
I'll never know until this day
Just what went wrong, but who's to say
But wisdom always comes too late
I look at life as one big stage
The eye more sensitive with age
The truth upon the stage is told
I laughed and cried but I was strong
And who's to say that I was wrong
Was never meant to be, in truth
It seems that love can cloud our sight
But who's to say that I am right
The same beginning to the end
I'd tread my footsteps all along
And who's to say if I am wrong
e-mail: mesantos1@comcast.net
As a pigeon's passive waddle to the tidbits
scattered round
Never wondering nor dreaming, never questioning
belief
Pecking contemplation's morsels thrown by others at
my feet
To the inner most contentment of my heart before I
sleep
If the fluttering of feathers swooping down to
nighttime perch
Didn't incite a song of glory from my soul at
nature's worth
If I didn't stoop to see the world from a child's
point of view
If the innocence of little ones didn't touch me
every time
That a child gazed in honesty into these eyes of
mine
That are floating in the current of imagination's
streams
If I didn't open up the fragile door that leads to
me
In the songs and dreams and thoughts that drift
within my poetry
And among the sound of laughter comes the little
answer, "Yes"
e-mail: mesantos1@comcast.net
With a mile more to go
A crooked road
It's a vicious circle.
Bears silent witness
To the kindness trait
Of being a good observer.
Do you know what I mean?
Invitation to contraction
Of the life lived sweet and fragile.
Read between the lines
Go forth and forward
To where beauty lies.
e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu
And see how many fear,
But for me it's just a journey
With heaven drawing near.
And in my sleep, time passes by;
I think of death as just that way
With life in dreams when I die.
In death I will wake too,
But it will be another world;
The one I pass into.
Nor goodbyes are ever said;
With my loved ones I will stay
And never more get out of bed.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
The written word is penned,
But without an inner sight;
Is hard to comprehend.
And ponder on them, the source;
Was it the mind from whence they came
Or from the heart, that caused remorse.
In the way you've come to see,
Or does the content of your heart
Provide the ink that flows from thee.
Or calligraphy with beauty seen;
Words that lift and soothe the soul
Or ones that drag and thus demean.
The pen will draw from in
And place upon the paper white
Those things that lie within.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
To compose a poetic thought,
Letting the muse control the pen.
The soul flooded with images it wrought,
Helping to heal a wounded soul.
Driving deep into the core
To let the one in pain know
With burdens too heavy to bear.
The poet with reassuring verse
Sends healing words of care
Helping the heart to mend,
Reassuring them not to despair.
For within the verse they find a friend
The listener connects with what they heard
As if the poet wrote the verse for them
And the healing begins within the word.
e-mail: browning@ticon.net
the birds start twittering.
Darkness is dispelled by light,
and loses the uneven fight.
roads get busier and busier.
To school do children go,
by buses and by auto.
and we can have no fun.
Evening sees the children home,
doing home work and watching T.V. some.
and the birds go to their arbour.
Bats and cats go hunting,
but people turn to praying.
e-mail: masriram2000@yahoo.com
Developed daily by imitation
Opens the door to empathy
And the capacity to love.
Allowing the option of self-renewal
Extension of the senses in turn
Sharpens the mind.
Coupled to implementation
Creates positive self-expression
And to the inevitable social evolution.
e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu
Of this we know,
We read her writes;
A true psycho.
In rhyme, she spins;
Is there not truth
That's found within?
Some colored black,
Does that prove,
She's out of whack?
Who writes of things
Deep in the soul;
Beyond our reasonings.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
The need to reach out
Fear of sleep
The night terrors and nightmares
Walking the streets
Until the crack of dawn.
Meditation the door to states desirable
Will to change
Always the key inside you
The mental serenity
Comes with peace of mind.
e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu
as bad as they seem
Listen to me,
I'm your self-esteem
and you're not over weight
Think of your good points
your complexion is great!
and are as smart as can be
Who cares if you don't
wear a perfect size 3
your actions will show
The heart is full of love,
that I already know
who throw insults your way
just smile and nod
and think of this day
and I'll say it again
how you look dosen't matter
True beauty lies within
e-mail:
devil_baby390@hotmail.com
oh poet, in a poem
Of far away places
let your mind roam
for just beyond
what the eye can see
someone will be waiting
there for thee
Someone you have known
forever in your mind
Somewhere in a dream
true love you find
They are more than words
from emotions spent
they are more than words
from a letter, not sent
Of heart, of soul
of tear stained words
the poet writes
that his voice may be heard
So pour out your heart
oh poet, in a poem
let the world see love
let your heart be known
e-mail: sojourner10@hotmail.com
And reach to touch forgotten years.
How old my soul, it seems to be,
As if it lived in other spheres.
Forgotten wisdom of long ago.
Like a candle with a far off flame;
I seem to see it faintly glow.
As if it were a part of me.
Is it my soul, the words remembered,
That draws me to its melody?
In this melancholy state of malaise.
This state of sorrow that seems to linger;
Upon the soul so heavily weighs.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
Painful internal affliction
Sometimes it hurts
To anticipate the second movement.
Endless cycle of pain and tension
Eliminate the misconceptions
Dissipate the tortured fears.
The rigors of strain
Ease up slowly on retention
Eventually all things must pass..
e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu
Singularities from mathematical collections
Mean curvature of residual space
Come and travel with me through time.
To universal dimensions
A curvature of
Manifold directions and encounters.
Without foundation
Fantastic energies of trans-light travel
I am in awe of my Creator.
Is to realize that the universe
Was made for more questions than answers
Enjoy the mystical vertigo of experiences
unforeseen.
e-mail: soriano@pitt.edu
And soon I found no vacancy.
Others' clutter stored up there,
Leaving now no room for me.
Would I find now disrepair?
Is the damage caused up there,
Only room for now despair?
Controlling now the mind that's left;
No longer mine to do as will
But it was I who allowed the theft.
Investment without dividend.
I gave to others too much room;
A price that proved too much to spend.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
Of every pretty planted thing
And everywhere, the leaves have blown;
Their freedom to roam, forever blowing.
But where is the desire to labor there.
For once again the leaves will blow
And painted surfaces again show wear.
And body parts are breaking down.
Put on another coat of paint
And turn that hair a shade of brown.
As ruts are carved throughout my face.
I run in vain to escape the years
But like the leaves, it wins the race.
But oh such fatal works of folly.
For all my efforts are for naught;
Pretty flowers now debris.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
And a song for the birds to sing
So even those without sight
Could see the beauty that they bring.
At the thorn he placed upon the rose
And why, suppose, he made the weed
Or inspired a poet to write in prose.
That life brings the bitter with the sweet.
And for the poet, compassion given,
That allows his pen to paper meet.
And the sun comes out to shine,
I look to see the sky reveal
A rainbow adorning so divine.
That my blessings I fail to see
Nor my ears grow so deaf
That I don't hear what he says to me.
Upon the rose I'll place my sight
And when the darkness in me creeps,
Upon his face I'll see the light.
e-mail: sara689@yahoo.com
before the dawn breaks through
The murmuring of the sleeping earth
covered by the morning dew
In the mist
the luminous ghost of yesterday
fades into a memory
Tranquil is my soul in sleep
as golden rays of light
move silently, through every dark, and secret
place
Chiming bells, from a church near by
Sounds of song birds, in tree tops high
The rustle of leaves, moved by the wind
I listen, to nature's melody
As a cool breeze, chilled by the night
caresses my cheeks
I rejoice in the splendor
as morning comes to life.
e-mail: sojourner10@hotmail.com
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