In March

by Samuel A. Southworth

In March the winds contained
A voice whose tremors took
On the trappings of a chain
Stretched across the frozen brook.

Can these flying days nudge
The meadow back to green?
Or should the secret ways
Tread the path to grace unseen?

These links were made to break--
And renew themselves again
When rivers choose to take
That passage without end.

A word was spoken--in the dark
We cast for it in vain . . .
But Lord forbid a savage spark
Its gentle light explain.

---

Copyright 2004 Samuel A. Southworth (SASouth@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

Go to the Top of the Page.

---

We Stand

by Jeffrey L. Williams

A spectral army stands this day,
Behind me, misted, far away.
Turning I can almost see,
Faces that once were dear to me,
Fists upraised above the head,
Victorious army of the dead.
Long, long ago, when we were young,
The world had spat on us and cried,
"You scum and minions of Hell,
Never will your song be sung,
Always will your hands be tied,
Hear you this and listen well,
You are not even human."
Thus it had been for ages past,
But we had pain enough at last.
In '69 we stood no more,
We took at stand at Stonewall's door.
At first we were but very few,
And for our lives in fear.
We raised a rainbow flag up high,
And there with all the world to view,
We said "this we hold most dear,
Our freedom - you will not deny
Our right to love our brothers."
"You will not change the world," they said.
"Many have tried, many are dead,"
And we replied, "we will, we must,
For we have dined enough on dust."
The years went on and we grew strong,
Our war was unrelenting.
They called us sinners, thus we'll be,
We'll force the world to hear our song,
And we are not repenting,
For love is never evil.
Now at last has come a day
When hate has finally given way.
I stand alone to watch the change,
But what I see is passing strange,
For all the boys no longer here,
The victims of the plague and hate,
Stand in the mist behind me now,
So many faces, all so dear,
I hear them say "it's not too late,
Sing in the old way, you know how,
And we'll yet join the chorus."
You too can hear their voices raised,
And freedom's holy cause be praised
If on this night you'll listen.
On Christopher Street, the tears they shed
When long ago they fought and bled,
Still, in the starlight, glisten.

---

Copyright 2004 by Jeffrey L. Williams (JLWilliams22@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

Go to the Top of the Page.

---

There, You Will Be

by Cher L

When all my tomorrow's
have come and gone ...
I'll stand in the rain.
I'll catch the drops in my cupped hands,
and lift to my eyes, that which will cleanse me.
I'll reflect upon Love.
And remember its losses,
its victories,
its trials,
and rewards.
I'll remember you.
My tears will mix with the rain,
and all, will wash away.
I will fall to my knees,
I will whisper your name.
And Thank God for your soul.
And, as I become still,
the memories,
will raise me.
I will stand before God,
with my heart in my hands.
And sing praises of Thanks.
When all my yesterdays
have come and gone,
'tis you,
I will hold,
in my ever lasting.
I will catch the stars in my cupped hands,
and lift to my eyes.
And the light will shine.
And there, You will be.

---

Copyright 2004 by Cher L (Singtame@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

Go to the Top of the Page.

---

Seekers

by Roger Ruthen

There is no time to turn around,
To turn around and view your track.
For you have far to go today,
There is no time for turning back.

There is no time to sit and rest,
To bask in wistful pondering.
For you must catch a train of thought
That stops your mind from wandering.

There is no time to birth regrets,
To nurture hate and bear resent.
For 'Seekers' travel light of load,
With heads held high and backs un-bent.

There is no time to count the cost,
To dress the wounds that conflict brings.
Forgiveness is our greatest salve,
It calms the depths where illness springs.

There is no time to slow life's race,
To put off what can now be done.
For time has not a constant pace.
It quickens with each morning sun.

---

Copyright 2004 by Roger Ruthen (rmr@hermes.net.au).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Go to the Top of the Page.

---

Thoughts of the day

by Cheri Fry

walking tenderly upon earth's core
i carve myself from a tree that bursts from the earth
into a flame
that reaches for the azure skies that have collected clouds in my head -
suddenly I feel all buzzy and warm
fixated upon the shores
of her churring warmth
only to be
reconciled with
truth and the serenity of simply being.

---

Copyright 2004 by Cheri Fry (Cherie.Fry@vch.ca
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

Go to the Top of the Page.

---

who writes my poems

by Anil K Prasad

if i had
not existed
someone else
would have
written me

writing poems
is a threat to
one's dreams
metamorphosed
into words
shaping out


as beads on buds
interacting with
different creations
in the ever gifted
gardens of grief


grief       You
draw my poems up
stir the words
out       chisel them
with       gaze
give     them
an ever beating
pulse sleepless
awakened soul
with quiet amazed eyes

mute sensations
words hung on the stems of
feeling restlessly looking
down the
slippery trail

soaring up is a risk
going low is also a risk
stay wise in between
is to write and be
in the making but

who writes my poems
is the job of the self
to declaim      and die
for a rebirth

---

Copyright 2004 by Anil K Prasad (prasad@y.net.ye).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

Go to the Top of the Page.

---

Table of Contents