Simply Love

by Rodney Coates

Their
satin draped shoulders
shielding their caresses
from the moonlight.

Her
rose colored lips
covering his with
hers as they discovered
each others secrets.

His
love for her
cresting with each
frantic breath as
his heart sang
out her name.

One
moment before dawn
breaking upon the petals
our message of love
sung with the morning dew.

The Secret
simply
love.

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Copyright 2003 by Rodney Coates(coatesrd@muohio.edu).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Rodney has a new series: The Art of Love at the following url:
communities.msn.com/TheArtofLovefortheEmotionallyImpaired/_whatsnew.msnw
and more of his poetry can be found at:
gw.cas.muohio.edu/umoja/www.ulbobo.com/umoja/index.html
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The Thorns Agony

by Puja Goyal

Like the edge of the steep cliff,
The side of the falling wind.
The thorn stood alone
Digging deep into everything that fell into it.

Yet each time the dew arose,
Emerging through the morning air.
Its nectar covered the edges,
the slope, the thorn.
Then there again the drop arose.
Fell gently on the thorn.

The thorn, it pierced the soul.
The drop, it mended the wound.

The thorn, it sighed.
The thorn, it cried in dismay.
It was persistent every morning
when the dew was new.
It could not tear,
What remained of the tear in the dew.

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Copyright 2003 by Puja Goyal(puja_g@graffiti.net).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Class Struggle

by Matt Jablonski

"Why'd you tell her all that flim flam
That stuff about CEO's earning
hundreds of dollars per minute
and us average folks working 500 years
to equal their annual wage, why?
It's keeping her up nights wound up
in bedsheets and mathematics
Figuring who's rich or poor, why?
She's obsessed now, that kids don't have
enough to eat and she talks a lot.
Thinks democracy is a failure.
Is that what you think? If so,
then get the hell out. I never
needed to learn that stuff, and slept
Just fine. Why? Can't you tell me?"

"Well," I reply, "because when I was her age
no one bothered to tell me, to shoulder me
with that responsibility."

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Copyright 2003 by Matt Jablonski ( Jablosfarm@aol.com ).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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I Will Meet The Morning

by Roger B. Humes

i will meet the morning
where the dawn glazes through
my window and rouses me
from the embers of my dreams
with your name still perched gently
on the edge of my smile

i will meet the morning
where i rise and go through
the motions of another day
sleepwalking as i hold the slices
of your name still perched gently
on the edge of my smile

i will meet the morning
where i attempt to get through
until night enfolds me with dreams
of your image upon my tongue
and your name still perched gently
on the edge of my smile

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Copyright 2003 by Roger B. Humes ( rbhumes@csupomona.edu).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Some General Semantics

by Frank Anthony

Here are 10 days to go
and you found some old
dead unsmoking warhead
no smoke means no fire
What manner of a guest
will threaten the host
exposing their genital
regions while shopping
for their attic ghosts
without the unfriendly
cold area of adversity
spoiling the situation
Do I fear dead warhead
or the smoking warlord

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This poem is one of the Poets Against The War collection being printed in The Nation magazine.
Copyright 2003 by Frank Anthony ( Newvtpoet@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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