Table of Contents
Our Future
(from the rainbow edge collection)
by Rodney D. Coates
Body quakes
at the mere
mention of
your name.
Rapture unfolds,
soul seduced,
as spiritual
conversations about
everything and nothing
fill the void of
yesterdays gone sour.
Scented dreams,
fantasies on the
edge of the rainbow
or is it sanity.
Who cares, if dreams
then let me not wake.
When tomorrow comes,
the dawn breaks,
our hearts beat this
solitary note. Then,
let's awaken from our
dreams and embrace
our future.
Copyright 2001 by Rodney D. Coates. (coatesrd@muohio.edu).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
For more of Rodney's poetry, visit his website at : A Collection of Poetry Writing
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Born I am
by Patricia F. Nichols
Born I am, in retrospect and my own creation birthing into death,
Observing in the shadows of the moon one last startled breath,
And so I write again as the blank page does seductively beckon,
Calling the tale to weave itself out of the blood of my pen,
A gentle caress playing on the dark deep waters of my soul,
Displays itself on paper - its reality startling and cold,
These memories one day will be painted a jumbled dark collage,
Copyright 2001 by Patricia F. Nicholsn (Trishaluv7256878@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Now He Walks Alone
by Ronald L. Haun
For so long it was just the two of them,
an older couple power walking for their health.
Unknown friendly neighbors.
He wore old fashioned kaki walking shorts,
jaunty hat and carried a cane.
I never heard her laugh
but she seemed the sort.
Her eyes from a distance sparkled.
A few years ago....
A few years ago,
when my son was younger,
he fell off his bicycle
on the street
near them as they walked.
Skinned knees and elbows,
all around.
They helped him up,
sent him on his way
and ever since then
they always waved
and smiled at him,
morning and afternoon,
on his way to and from school.
It seemed they all but claimed him as their own,
After my son told me of their help,
I too smiled and waved whenever I saw them.
But now he walks alone.
His funny little hat still fearlessly
cocked forward,
as his chin,
old fashioned kaki walking shorts,
and cane.
Copyright 2001 by Ronald L. Haun. (Ronalot23@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Resurrection
by Lisa Guliani
Spring calls to me, breezy whisper
Of rebirth, sunrise of season;
I listen for her song, yearning
To be kissed by the Dawn..
I taste her red wine, greedy
For her warmth and sunlight,
Slow and spreading caress,
Liquid fire of my soul...
Winter is reluctant
To release his steely grip,
Yet knows he must,
For he has not the power
To still the hands of Time...
Spring whispers words of love
Stirring spirit to awaken
From her deep slumber;
A promise of life anew
In the heart
Of a windswept blossom.......
Copyright 2001 by Lisa Guliani. (Lillhermit@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Letter to the Editor: Cherie Staples (skyearth1@aol.com).