Archives
July 2007
Fiction:
Non Fiction:
Poetry:
Little Boys and Thunder
by
Bryon D. Howell
Little boys and thunder
always bring the rain
such mystery and wonder
such misery and pain
Little men in peril
striving to be heard
raised just to be virile
and that is so absurd
Little boys and anger
bottled up inside
a recipe for danger
no peace can override
As little people grow
they follow what they see
they always think they know
just what they want to be
Little lads can fail
when shown a stormy path
a wrong turn can unveil
the thunder and its wrath
Lambs without their shepherds
sometimes lose their way
kittens act like leopards
fall to your knees and pray
Shows rang out like thunder
it's happened once again
how many dead I wonder
teardrops fall like rain
Little boys and ammo
always bring a storm
leaving pain and sorrow
murder's not a norm
Boys are little boys
all should run and play
give them back their toys
and take the guns away
Blue Curaco
by
Mathew Friday
for
Glynn
'Go on boy! Go on!' cries the Meat Salesman,
waiting nervously at the winning post, punching
the air as his greyhound, Blue Curaco,
streaks like lightning along the track.
'Go on! For me, boy, for me.'
All week he is up to his elbows in joints,
loins and portions, a quick cut, a friendly manner;
he knows his customers as well as his meat.
The betting slip in his blood-worn hands begs
to be released. 'Come on! For your old man!'
Suddenly the crowd cries out. 'Come on boy!'
The Meat Salesman's heart thumps hard.
Here come the hounds. 'Come on boy!' His
voice is hoarse, his lungs straining for air.
Here's the hounds. Blue Curaco's in the lead!
Like a bullet. Like a missile. This well bred
sliver of meat and hard muscle pumps past.
'Come on boy! For your old man! For me!'
Blue Curaco thunders past the finish line.
The Meat Salesman chops the air triumphantly.
Complete
by
Sarah Lambrecht
Bring your brown eyes
To gaze into mine
Look in real deep
My soul you will find
Then please will you stay
A moment in there
Taking your time
Without breaking the stare
Cause here in my eyes
You'll find many things
All of the emotions
To me that you bring
They're feelings of love
And sweet senses of wonder
Bright as the lightning
And loud as the thunder
And all through the rain
Of my longing for you
Your eyes bring bright sunlight
To break up the blue
Just stay here forever
And read into my soul
Cause you here with me
Makes my broken heart whole
Dug In
by
Ray Succre
He is with his fulsome neighbors;
they are all goddesses—
winds up terrorizing the neighborhood,
himself, nodding like the loop-held belt
in his father’s hand.
Don’t look in my house, he tells them,
and dead, he has thrown off his body.
They open their mouths for a-ha,
but then yawn, while a motley quiet
among he bristly lawns speaks.
He finds himself still pursued.
Hands of his rise, feet walk him,
and his nostrils gape at the mower fumes.
Is he never dead?
There is a body.
Strangely, he has sought no more than
his upward god that still sleeps.
Near him, the dogs lap
from birdbaths in the paradise,
and so he turns his eyes skyward,
his face digging, pregnant with distaste.
Diana
by
Robert James Bridge
At any given moment of the year
Diana remembered I did think of saying
Our thoughts go out to those most dear,
As I knelt placing flowers and continued praying.
Years have now passed and on reflection
Diana remembered one full of love
We find Diana is no exception.
Diana remembered looks down from above.
Diana will remain an enigma to some
Every so often an angel appears
But to two young men she will always be mum.
An angel that helps wipe away them tears.
The Princess of Wales was an angel no doubt
An angel we mourn, an angel devout.
To marry a Prince is every girls dream
But was life as good as it sometimes seemed?
We mourn each day for someone so dear
but we feel her presence and no she is near.
Art:
"The Spider Lady" by Nyssa Wells
Music:
