Welcome to the Gryphon's Nest!
The gryphon lined its nest with such
As none will see again
But treasured most the deepfelt words
Sung from the hearts of men
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August Rain
by Doug Tanoury
I remember an August once
When I could talk to him
But didn't and each word unspoken
Rested like a brick on the silence
That lay thick as a layer of mortar
And grew into hardness between us
These days I think of him
Mostly when rain falls in gray sheets
With a soft hiss as droplets
Paint the pavement with color
Of an overcast sky and collects
On the road in pools in brought to full boil
In summer storms with the
Sound of thunder on my skin
I recall in the air's smell and
The wind cool in my hair
An August once when rain fell
In mortar gray hardness on our silence
Copyright 1999 by Doug Tanoury. (dtanoury@ix.netcom.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Teardrops
by Woei Hern
Here I am
Fruit of my own design
Object of my own folly
Mirror to what was wayward
Loath?
For the lack of a better word
It being that gut wrenching
Heart churning feeling
That I get so often
That actually hurts
I find nothing worth crying for anymore
I used to think it was okay to
But now I see
That tears are just a waste
Now I well them up
In my heart
Brood in the night
When it is solitary
When it is dark
Just like the ink I write with
And that is how my tears would flow
I'm filling up the pages now
Always when it's in the early morn
Around 2 AM
When it's dark
That's when I cry
Figures,
Always easier to write during the dark
And never on a blue pen,
It always has to be black
Just like how my tears would look like
In the night
And as I pick up the pace
My heart wrenches
That sorrowful reservoir
Thoughts
Despair
Loathing
Words...I need words...
My pen racing
Looking almost like I'm conducting an orchestra
A sorrowful symphony
Singing to myself
With every melancholy alphabet
Teardrops are what they are.
Copyright 1999 by Woei Hern. (heartsprk@hotmail.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
On Reading Section C in the Dictionary of Entomology
by Dorothy Bates
The insect called the Caddis Fly,
no bigger than a needle's eye,
was born to live and then to die
in just one single day.
He doesn't have a yesterday,
tomorrow never comes his way;
in an eternal, endless May
he lives his perfect day.
His wings ablaze with morning light,
he shivers with the joy of flight
Ecstatic in his starry night,
he rides the Milky Way.
Consider then, if you and I
were simple as the Caddis Fly:
we'd seize the moments as they die
and glorify our day.
Copyright 1999 by Dorothy Bates (DBates3809@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Lela's Song
by Michael David Coffey
In the dark avenues
of a Southern town
Lela wanders
carefree, a poet
of life
She's a telephone
operator at the
VA hospital
And a caretaker of
souls
She's been there
and lived it
Survived
abuse
In the dark avenues
of a Southern town
You'll find Lela
On the edge of life
a saint
in dark clothing
Among the downtrodden
and the forgotten
She saves souls
writes poetry
And prays that
she can
live by
the beach
In the dark avenues
of a Southern town
You'll find Lela
She loves the ocean
has raised fine kids
Traveled the world
an Army brat
Yeah
she's there now
Riding the trolley bus
with a
Hank Williams
impersonator
That's Lela
In the dark avenues
of a Southern town
Lela wanders
a free spirit
a religious lady
She's been there
done that
Escaped abuse
and hell's road
And she's saving
lost souls
A guy in a wheelchair
eighty three
who abuses his wife
And wants to make war
She's helping him
In the dark avenues
of a Southern town
There's Lela
She's a street angel
with her feet
firmly on the ground
A wisely sage
a prophet
A good shepherd
guiding the fallen
Back to salvation's land
Lela
this is your song
Copyright 1999 by Michael David Coffey (Poetrymdc@aol.com)
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
The Beggar's Throne
by Janet I. Buck
Beer hats
full of dirty clothes.
Sea foam
wrought in amnesty.
A wireless fence,
but still a fence
for convicts
of mad destiny.
I'd like to know
who lives inside
your body starched
in all that poise.
I've begged
until my knees
won't bend.
On Father's Day,
I cooked the food
you like the most.
Whispered with an
arm around the shoulder
poem that came out
looking bubble gum
for soles and souls
to step around.
God, this
island life is cold--
silence muggs on
lonely streets.
Emotion's flies
and angry bees
that buzz around
but just won't land.
Hugs are comets
hard to catch--
bows that fall
off packages.
Copyright 1999 by Janet I. Buck (JBuck22874@aol.com)
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
A Twenty Mile Effort
by Bill Eihausen
Inside of me I am boiling
on the outside
Frozen in spots.
You move me around
A bit here
A bit there.
With materials from me I am covered
Of this type
and of that.
I have been around forever
Although nothing really
Has been I guess.
Millions rely on me
But lately I am feeling messy
Quite dirty in fact!
Being everything's lady
Is quite a job.
Sincerely, Mother Earth.
Copyright 1999 by Bill Eihausen (Hardverker@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
They Told Me It Was Summer
by Marcus Lee
They told me it was Summer,
But everything was lush,
And Spring sang in the air
And in the budding brush.
They told me it was Summer,
But I felt Autumn's bite
And saw the yellow Moon
Light up a cloudless night.
They told me it was Summer,
But Winter's chill seeped in,
Clasped tight around a heart,
And left an icy skin.
They told me it was Summer,
But who am I to doubt
The morning mist like Poetry
To soothe a burning brow.
They told me it was Summer,
And maybe they were right,
For Summer's warming laughter
Had driven off a blight.
They told me it was Summer,
And Summer Nights are best,
For they can last forever
And give a heartache rest.
They told me it was Summer,
And then was Summer born;
And may my days forever
Dwell in Summer's morn.
Copyright 1999 by Marcus Lee (thenarr@hotmail.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Haiku Minimal Poetry
by Martin Mikelberger
boomerangereturning
idreamaker
kitestingravity
hiddenemyself
eachanger
cicadancelebration
(A Haiku minimal is a way of combining three English words
that have common letters and also have a "Zen like" thought
transcending the merger of the words. Common letters that
are the end of one word start the next and so on , but they
have a Zen flavor. Sometimes a minimal could be only two
words or four words, but the general format is three words.)
Copyright 1999 by Martin Mikelberger (onewe@home.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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