Duane Locke

Deserted Farm

Land of red cradles,
Dirt of
Old folded hands. 
Pierced land,
Side-pierced land,
Land of red lips. 
Land of bones
And tears,
Land of fallen chimneys. 
Land of echoes
Without origins,
Whispers without voices. 
Dry wells,
Yellowed Chinaberries. 


Copyright © 2001 Duane Locke

William Aarnes

Cleaning Up

Lucy places the utensil basket 
back into the dishwasher 
and points, "Look." 
Kristiansen can hear 
the high-pitched chittering. The robins 
nested in the crook of the drainspout 
are feeding their third clutch. 
But he keeps his back to the window, 
his focus on the crud he's rubbing 
off the stove. 
"They're nothing 
but mouths!" she exclaims. "Yes," he says 
though he's thinking they're nothing 
but guts. 

He turns to the sink 
to rinse the dishrag--not looking out. 
He squeezes it, hangs it over the faucet 
and leaves. 

He knows, if Lucy 
watches long enough, she'll see 
how those adults know just when 
to dip their heads into the nest 
to catch the droppings in their beaks. 


Copyright © 2001 William Aarnes

Rochelle Hope Mehr

Seeking Privacy

To give oneself
(Forgive oneself)
Permission to limn the personal
The not-for-broadcast
Unconsumptive
Airings of a soul
Tastefully
Encased
within
the covers of a book
which can be open and shut
at leisure
so that one is not pinioned
by the glowering eye
of Broadband:
the Ubiquitous
Unforgiving Eye


Copyright © 2001 Rochelle Hope Mehr

Tom Whitlock

The Dark at the
Beginning of the Tunnel

At life’s end, we wonder 
about the light at the end of the tunnel.
In reality, it’s the beginning--the first breath 
as you come into the world and cry,
not in fear but in wonder,
the first word and the first sentence 
that amazes everyone--
then the step
that leads you to a journey.
You will remember moments in your life
that somehow stay in your mind forever.
You never forget the joy, 
but sometimes forget the sorrow, 
and at times it returns--
the love you find
along that road you travel,
the friends you make, and lose 
so seemingly untimely--
So, actually, 
it’s the things that started your life
that come back to you 
in a moment--between here and there.

Copyright © 2001 Tom Whitlock

The Poetry of Tom Whitlock

William Heffner

Freedom Never Dies

September eleventh two thousand one 
The whole world got to see 
The towering twins of New York State 
Fall so helplessly. 

They both were struck, by suicide jets 
On a mission to destroy 
The spirit of America 
And freedoms we enjoy.

Then a third jet struck our Pentagon 
While a fourth jet couldn’t go 
Beyond the Pennsylvania trees 
Cause of heroes, we now know. 

So with vengeance left to be the Lord’s 
One thing still applies...
Freedom just might cost your life 
But freedom never dies!


Copyright © 2001 William Heffner
 

http://www.policepoems.com/FreedomNeverDies.htm