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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THE JEWELRY BOX
In a jewelry box, hidden safely away
Lie numerous necklaces, bracelets, and rings
Given to me by admirers who spoke
Of forever and endless promises
Which are now gathering dust
In the nooks of my attic
Forgotten and useless
Like the cherished memories
I once clung to tightly
Many years ago and
Although I do appreciate
Your expensive gesture
It will only be another diamond
To add to my legion of stones
From lovers past
If you cannot show me
The truth to those
Three simple words that slip
Casually so from your lips
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**Copyright 1998 by Pamela Avoledo. (Dusk411@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**
Love and Truth
If Love abides within the heart,
And Truth beneath her wing,
Winter's snow is but to veil
The loveliness of spring.
And in the darkest lonely night,
When Peace cannot be found,
Love will shine her beams of light
And Truth will be her crown.
Love, shine bright!
And Truth, adorn!
For all mankind to know
United one...no longer two
Bring Peace, the world to show.
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**Copyright 1998 by Sylvia Leigh (APoetess@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**
The Hospital Gown
The open flap
of bathroom doors
in wastelands
of an agile mind.
Pop a wheelie
wisdom-wise
with circumstantial
pomp and noise.
Art is a hospital gown
of homemade darkness.
Its strings undone
like laces on shoes
that let life breathe.
Sets us straight
as prayer before death
or candles leaning
toward a flame.
We crumble chunks
of birthday cake.
Blue dye on our fingertips.
Blow up guilty ghost balloons
with nothing but
cathartic winds.
Practically speaking,
it's sweeping
up a sand dune
with a toothbrush.
Using a tissue
for an umbrella
at peak Monsoon.
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**Copyright 1998 by Janet Buck (jbuck22874@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**
Honky Down Home
Squat Victoria,
standing before the enamel stove and sink,
you smelled of fried chicken, bbwere smooth and warm to touch again
as I surprised you with my big boy kiss.
You squealed as once I had done long before
when, having led me to the top of the hill,
you pushed when I asked you to,
and my racer spinned down the black street.
Lawzy mercy!" you said,
"Mister Billy, you sho' is growed!"
"Why are you calling me mister?"
"Does they feed you well at that school?
I sho' do like that uniform."
I felt again your oily fingers at my neck.
Your happy squeal became a chubby giggle,
muffled in mounds of warm fat.
Then I saw Mother at the door,
knowing that I had just transplanted her kiss,
I feared incest in our idle joy.
Victoria! I was greedy. I wanted many mothers.
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**Copyright 1998 by Louie Crew (lcrew@andromeda.rutgers.edu
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**
Lullaby
From the other side of the moon
You sing to me softly
I hear the words that
You whisper
I feel your fingers in my hair
Weaving me in words
Silver ribbons
Dazzling mirrors
Delicate phantom reflections
Of our love
Stroke my soul with
Sweet succulent syllables
Come home
And let me taste again
The mouth
That sings such
Sweet Lullabies
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**Copyright 1998 by Chelse (Realchelse@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author**
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