Welcome to the Gryphon's Nest!

The gryphon lined it's nest with such
As none will see again
But treasured most the deepfelt words
Sung from the hearts of men

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EYES RIGHT
Denied a personhood by the searching of eyes
Denied a selfhood by orbs
Which search the temporal
                       alone
For perfection
Seeking out our vulnerable vanity
    to rule us,
And make their cash registers ring.

Building their castles
   on the shifting sands
                        of servitude.
Margaret's Market
   forces the sheep into her fold,
And she who will not submit
Foul shall fall of capitalist Eden
Into the damnation of caringness
   and unacceptability.


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**This work is copyrighted by Diane Joy Pritchatt  Sept.1995.
(EMail: Diane@bnclib.demon.co.uk
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**

Diane has recently contributed to a book of poems by women : The West in Her Eyes, and is looking for more opportunities to expand. She has also almost completed an historical novel, set in Gloucestershire in the 1850's - a psychological, historical romatic thriller.


The Witches Truth
It will never be tomorrow
It will always be today.
Don't wait until tomorrow
Before then you'll waste away.
Life is filled with sorrow
Unless you live your dreams today.
Don't wait until tomorrow
When you're old and hair is grey.

Live your dreams, live them well
In the end you've gone through hell.
Unless you see what is real
And think beyond what you feel.

Think about what I've said
Find the meaning in your head.
In your mind, justify
The Witches Truth, which is lie.


by Nefas.
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**This work is copyrighted by Nefas.
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**

a symphony
 My soul and my deepest heart
           have their own song.....
               apart from the cacophony
most others hear.
A harmonic duet of the cool sweet adagio.....
           the fireflame of an overture.
A lifetime of longing for the concert to begin......
     an ancient aching for the strains of
           a symphonic memory..... and to once again feel
                  the tiny inaudible whispers build
                       to the rhythmic power of one hundred
tympanies.
        .....a rediscovery of the eternal, never dying crescendo
of perfect
love.



Deb G.
22Nov95
Dene50@aol.com
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**This work is copyrighted by Dene Fivoe
(Dene50@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**

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Letter to the Editor:
Cherie Staples <SkyEarth1@aol.com>