MAY, 2006





Letter from a Summer Camp

I have had a lot of fun,
Translation: Every morning we have a food fight 

The beds are nice,
Translation: Ten bed bugs bit me last night 

I love our counselors,
Translation: They let us stay up till 3:00 a.m.

I made lots of friends,
Translation: Billy is a nerd

The activities are nice,
Translation: I want to be a skydiver when I grow up 

The lake is pretty,
Translation: Tommy almost drowned

Iím wanting to come home,
Translation: Iíve run our of clean underwear 

Iím sad to leave,
Translation: I wanted to try and set off a firework in the canoe 

Goodbye, Max.
Translation: Good riddance, Max


Destiny in This World
By Nora Shinya

Far beyond the mountain,
High oíer the seas,
Through the thick forests of emerald green trees, Fallow your heart wherever you may roam, But thereís a place youíll never truly part with, A place you once called home, Listen to the birds, Listen to the song of the breeze, Listen to the tales of bygone times of the age-old trees, Never forget what you heard, Keep it forever in your memory, Never forget what the world has told you, Of your fate, Of your destiny.


melted snow crawls at a snails

pace down his threadless, stinking

brown work boots

unwittingly imitating his

brain waves. zigzagging through

the senseless rubber maze

of a sleeping heel and reaching

his own dead end on loose floorboards,

it adds a new continent

to the puddle made from tears and

other things that have formed like a

moist waste land over three years.

occasionally he is sure that the

shrill voiced neighbor downstairs

who complains loudly about the

noise is his daughter. who else,

after all, could care enough to

wake him up. never having the energy

to go and find out, he will forget.

this will not matter, since she is 85

and was put in a nursing home

last night. this will never matter,

since downtown his dreams

are on sale for 50 cents a can.

John Thomas Allen


Patrick Delap

Lying in my warm and cozy bed

I listen to the little noises the critters outside make Looking at the dark sky Glittered with bright, white stars The smell that I love of the fresh, cool air The time when everything gets colder Everything gets quieter Lying in my warm cozy bed.


"Dreams Of Destiny"
Larry Meneghini

Dreams of integrity and hope
Profanity destroying the oneís in reason and the one which cope Growth and new-birth on the bright side Their minds are in for a ride

Dreams of destiny
The shadows of the hells ignite and take the best of me The light of the heavens resurrect Their mere images reflect

Dreams of integrity and hope
Cleansing the past into dust and washing away the suds of soap The tyranny and pain of societyís riots and studies of its science The block between all those changing years of compliance

Dreams of destiny
My neutral grounds set me free
The heavens and hell now fade
The tyranny and pain extinguishes as I awake and my dreams are made


 No time for dreaming
Kenneth Alistair Marquis

Failures gather at the crossroads of identity somewhere 
within the mist As the men with no insight into crisis 
cross them off the list On the clouds of self obsession 
there lies a wandering truth
Too much empathy drained the shine out those weary eyes 
While authority's screams bring fears are tears like bullets in disguise 
Aiming for the brains which floated down the lanes of baptized sorrow 
Until the sunken stomach churns and turns more than the roads you follow 
Don't keep retreating from the repeating 
beating that's keeping you from keeping all the slideshows in your mind 
washed up within the tide, 
your burning conscience can now light,
as it ignites into the night your insight starts to shout,
all the answers lost in doubt,
your soul is inside out and there is no time for dreaming.


In no fashion have I lost my passion for the pen Its just that lately life has been a lot less inspiring To tell the truth trial and tribulation is very tiring I get equal as an eye and eye again I'm the truth I'm complicated I'm R-rated but try again I could die once and never ever die again And what I believe within I engrave in my skin How could there be a now if there never was a then That is unbalance just like the yang without ying



If I could find the spot where truth echoes I would stand there and whisper memories of my children future I would let there future dwell in my past so that I might live a brighter now

Now is the essence of my domain and it contains all that was and will and I am all that I was and will be because I was and always will be that niggah





I'm a poet and I didn't even KNOW it!!!

Just wait a little bit!

I'll get down to the hood

where the world is good...

I mean bad,

so sad!

I love to play

in the chevrolet

and sing out so loud

it reaches the clouds

I'm crazy and I know,

you probably won't publish this so,

good bye for now you loser

Just wait 'till I'm famous you poser.

Lauren W.


Ode to the book
By Indiana Pehlivanova
Oh, my dear poor book
I am sauntering on your dirty, scrappy
But full of music pages
Some of them are burned.
But others painted
And some of them are dizzy
Dizzy - from the smoke
From the smoke the wind is driving
From the crazy currents
From the train to China making rain
Until its travel 
I watch the rats
Running through
Your lines. 
I want to touch them
With my hand but I can't
Reach so far
I watch you
Thrown there-
On the kitchen
Floor. Maybe people
Are trying to learn how to cook
But they did take the wrong book! 
Because there on page 52
I see a hole, digged deep into the ground Fitting with the war. It's full of victims I see a woman praying there - behind the yellow rug Here - on the page thirteen - A few blue flames. 
A seismograph is measuring the force of an Earthquake and there are fissures decorated All around page two I can hear the winter Bringing roses from page 106. 
I can walk on the streets the beggars in your Pages walked. 
Hey, look at page zero - it's a boat
And my father is on it. I am saying to him: '' ŌŗÍ ŽŤ ‚


Go Now...Come Back Later
‹zeyir Lokman «AYCI
Ankara, le 06.06.1979
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en franÁais
French free verse translated into English free verse by Joneve McCormick, 22.02.2006
Do not stay in front of my troubles
And rattle my private feelings
Hereafter, do not touch my ideas
Do not revive my memories
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later! 
Me, I depend on my loneliness...
I do not let other people trample
My love so easily
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later! 
Me, I am accustomed to the sky's irony
It is of no importance
That I am discovered in my sleep...
I climb my trees myself
I water my flowers myself
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later! 
Do not stay in front of my troubles
And rattle my private feelings
Hereafter, do not touch my ideas
Do not revive my memories
Leave me to myself
Go now...
Come back later!


              Laura Thien
As these days go by,
I sit here thinking,
Of thoughts about our country,
And what will happen,
In the near future ,
Just what things would be like,
Its unreal to me ,
But as time begins to pass,
And the future is really coming ,
super-super-super fast,
Then all of a sudden i forget ,
What has happened in the past cause,
Life has gone by way to fast and the days go by in a instant flash 
The Night
Nermin Nazim
the night isnít the end of the day.
It is the origin of the day.
The night is young, matures and fades
Away giving birth to the dawn of a new day Which in turn gives way to the night, Serene, divine and peaceful.
Sins are committed at night are shy,
And the Lord grants his forgiveness to whoever Seeks it at nights While sins of the day are flagrant and ugly in broad daylight.
I Was Just There
(Cate Espener - May/06)
In this room defined
By cracks and shaded corners
Comes the scent of earth and worm
All the good cooking and wares
Gone rotten within a touch  
All the good women gone unnoticed
Greater than those who spoke
Louder than their dying breath
All those who wept and danced
before our silent eyes
And sprinkled flowers
On this consecrated ground 
All those who worked the field
And sowed it all by hand
With just a little kindness
Woven by the spindle of love
By chance embrace a seed
And nettle, nothing gained
I was just there before you
Chidozie Ihebereme
Where does my nonsense dwell?
Everyone smells of some rotten richness; Richness of the eyes, and that of mouth; Richness plucked from fires of hell, where rotten poor girls scout for diamonds pouring from a president's eyes.
My nonsense is here! Look well, it's there.
There's nothing in their heads but grasses and rap music; classroom blackboard pricks the pockets of teachers who fickle in fear, because math will die for many weeks.
My screams have lost her voice to scream, and my nonsense lies right within.
Aristotelian democracy has a third term...
let's stand, there's no spice in their lies.
let's stand, there's no more salt in our cries.
" The altar cried "
Linda LaPorte
  Looking through life's pages and pictures of the past,there's mom
  and daddy's wedding....who knew it wouldn't last? Snapshots
  scattered on the bed;questions going through my mind.Our family
  life had ended,then the altar cried
  The altar cried and stars fell from the sky
  The altar cried and momma's ring lost it's shine
  The altar cried and the loving moon turned cold
  Tears fell down from heaven when the altar cried.
  I don't know what happened that night daddy left.I was too young
  to understand:Momma said"It's for the best".The vows they took so
  long ago were being carried on the wind.Two rings joined on tear-
  stained hearts;forever till the end...and
  The altar cried,intentions put aside
  The altar cried,mom and daddy said goodbye
  The altar cried,for better or for worse
  Tears fell down from heaven when the altar cried.       
Time is Money
Hurry, hurry, donít be late
Donít stand too long,
You know I hate,
Losing precious dollars.
Donít call me on the phone,
Iím working here,
Say, youíve broken a bone?
Thatís the least I fear,
For Iím losing my precious dollars!
I donít have the time,
To drive you to,
Youíre ballet or your movie preview,
Itíll lose me, precious dollars!
You canít have this,
And you canít have that,
Sorry miss,
That youíre broke flat,
But Iíd be giving you my precious dollars!
Whatís that you say?
Take a vacation?
Or try to help a starving nation?
Stop making hundreds of dollars per hour, And waste it so these people can devour, All of my precious dollars!
Donít you get it?
Stop asking me!
Money doesnít grow on trees!
I have to work,
No time for games,
Go pester someone else.
Iím making precious dollars!

Dance Dragon Dance
A Chinese New Year
By Eileen Dawson Peterson

Dance, Dragon, Dance to the clanging of the gong, To the crashing of the cymbal and the chanting of the throng, To the firecrackerís crack and the booming of the drum, At the feast of Chinese New Year, to the Chinese voicesí hum.

See the Chinese Dragon dancing down the street to every store, There consuming heads of cabbages and oranges galore, For on this, the Chinese New Year, on this grand and happy day, You will see the Dragon dancing in the ancient Chinese way.



By Eileen Dawson Peterson


Deep in tangled jungle greenery

Moldering under mounds of moss

 Fallen heroes, warís machinery

Deep in tangled jungle greenery

Hidden in the lovely scenery

This our modern common cross

Deep in tangled jungle greenery

Moldering under mounds of moss.


The last Day of Coney Island's Steeple Chase 
shattered bottles
railroad ties glitter towards Coney
boardwalk sunlight
sand in the sloppy joe
a gull's shadow pecks at popcorn
parachute ride
cotton candy stuck to the seat
the steeple chase slide
full of color
the covered pool ripples
stringer lights
Jackie T.
She looked across the the street.
In her bedroom suite.
There a man laid on cold concrete.
She put on her diamond ring.
meanwhile he itched his bee sting.
oh what unfairness life can bring.
She gets into her long stretched out car.
as he watches from a far.
his life is worthless next to that movie star.
life is cruel and bitter.
although she may be wearing glitter.
her life aint perfect either.
she lost it all at just sixteen.
her mistakes are now worldwide seen.
she follows the same dreadful routine.
don't judge a book by its cover.
because you'll discover.
its really nothing like the cover.
A World of Heavenly Fantasy
Lisa Canfield
Do words even compare to the beauty that I do seek?
Among hollyhocks, and trumpet vine
Hanging climbs of light and peek?
Dragonflies lingering their gypsy flight Across the star spangled banner of night.
And butterflies with their silken wings
Fluttering across magnolias as the nightingale sings Trellisís covered with wisteria fruit Lilacs perfuming the air with their rich fragrant loot.
And the incense of freshly laundered air Stirred up by a light rain and rainbow flare Makes me want to sing, and dance!
In this paradise of garden romance.
Near me I feel the warmth of light
As the sun smiles down, in blinding sight And it comforts me, like a loving lover.
Its arms wrapped around me tight,
in protection and cover.
Wild jungles of mimosas bloom, and burst.
The sleeping grass that awakens, no longer pursed.
And the anxious hummingbirds dart their swift escape In these exotic trees, of bright pink cape.
And so, I wander, in this world of heavenly fantasy With my spirit and soul, shadowing lightly along side of me.
And I smile, light and child.
As I continue my journey, through flowers Ė ever, so wild.


Dada Abiola
	I woke up in the morning, checking my living roses and feeding the animals i eventually found a clean drop of water on a green leaf.what is this I asked my spirit, convinced it was a mirage or an illusion
	But my soul was worried how could this happen when there wasnt any shower the night before, i decided to search over and over again. until i found a caring loving angel who walked into my spirit and explained to me.  This is called morning dew it always come clean, ummm i asked what is the usefulness of the dew. she explained further this dew is the personification of love  it is the image of future love, clean and passionate,dew tells how clean the awaiting feeling is.This makes me think of my forth comming passion and feeling it makes me to imagine how clean am gonna handle the season of love
	In the dew i saw the image of my love


Writing is my talent.

Itís my job to create heroes that are gallant.

My job to record the world in pages and words And make evil beasts in herds.

And create what you read in books.

I can make funny clowns and cooks.

I can make a cat

Sit in a hat.

I can make things happen in what I write.

From darkness and misery, to happiness and light.

Or happen the other way round.

I can make a heroine be by ropes bound.

I can make a twelve-year-old dance.

A dog prance.

The list is long.

And so I end this poem and go sing a song.


By Allanna.A.Davis

As the morning pushed on strong

You watched me stretch and yawn upwards into The day, tracing your finger across my awakening skin Reluctantly reaching forward you brushed my lips With yours.

Counting the days duties in my head, I sigh as Your arms wrap me in a lust filled embrace and kisses Gently, tickle the the line of my neck , you watch my breasts Rise and fall, request I stay for a few more minutes We spoon.

In the dimly lit room I arise, double curtains and overlapping darkness affect my footing, I stumble Landing upon the mahogany piano, my other muse, I hold myself up, dress, you smile as I weave away From you.

Windows and terrace doors open out to my gravel pit of a garden Promising posies and crocuses to the left, I lay my notebooks out Upon yesterdays news and last weeks lilies shed their earthly armour upon My words, I feel the sun on my face, as I blend green tea and nicotine I write.


Cruel World.
Patrick Mackeown 

In an age before there was time itself

in the Achean Period of Earth's existence

was it not sulphur which filled the atmosphere?

And did being not issue forth

from deleterious surroundings?


In the days of Pompeii's splendour

Was it not the Roman law of Patria Protestas

which extolled the virtues of exposing superfluous

newborns in the wilderness to die?


But have we not passed into a time now

of Brooke's Granchester meadows?

Now do we not wonder at Wordworth's lakes?

Are we not all now both Swallows and also Amazons?


So why now do you beset us with the ravages of Katrina?

Why do you send torrents downs the streets of New Orleans?

Is it to wash away the wretchedness of our existence?

Or have we yet to learn that the sulphurous Achean

beckons a hedonistic populous with its imminent return?



 Metal Mates
     The sound of rail cars coupling
in the night, somewhere, anywhere,
in any little railway town.
     Sounds the same now and before;
my ears heard, my mind understood,
and my insides shook as metal struck metal.
     The coupling, the sex of rail cars, the wombs of rail cars, filled with cement that one day would help build structures.
     Always sounds the same,
the banging of rail cars,
raw sex in the industrial safari.
                  by Glen Horn


Blessed Be War 
Natasha Mann 
Blessed be the stars so bright
That shine upon this holy night
Through armour gleams so incomplete
And lays the wounded down to sleep
Blessed the blood-matted hair
The martyrdom for maiden fair
And many fall to save her face
All in wonder, love and grace
Come hither stare, the grass she dies
Hark! Silence for our hero's cries!
The knives are drawn and lives erased
Blessed be the lives He saves!
Blessed, the kingdom awaits
No home for failures at the gates
The champion deaths, the knights so gold Shall never see the night grow old
Blessed be the battlefield
Wounds on wounded, never healed
The helmets useless, slung to ground
Our hero's faces never found
Blessed maiden weeps for love
Weeps for lost to the Above
Cries for something purely gore
This is horror; This is War
Blessed be the stars that shine
On those who b'lieve this be sublime
The foolhardy who ready take
Alas! Death is for the peace's sake!
Blessed fate of the strongest men
Who shall never wake again
The battlefield their deathbeds sheets
As we lay them down to sleep
[ Make Love, Not War ]


Kenya is your name
I love the way it sound
As true as a flame
Now my soul is bound
Someday it will be brought to fame
But for now is mine
Like an angel from above
You let me be
I love you very much....

Lizette Cedillo


It went many years,
But at last came a knock,
And I thought of the door
With no lock to lock.
I blew out the light,
I tip-toed the floor,
And raised both hands
In prayer to the door.
But the knock came again
My window was wide;
I climbed on the sill
And descended outside.
Back over the sill
I bade a "Come in"
To whoever the knock
At the door may have been.
So at a knock
I emptied my cage
To hide in the world
And alter with age.
jacob mccormick


How to liveÖ
Habiba Azab
Put your head in the clouds
Your eyes upon the sunís setting rays
Your nose between petals of a rose
Your ears within a guitarís strings
Your tongue in a jar of sugar
Your fingertips on a smooth leaf
Your feet in the deep blue seaÖ
And forget where you left them.


I know i'll never win the pride
To cherish you in these arms another while.
I sorrow to have swallowed
The sweet yesterdays to be of no esteem.
Each time I spill a tear
Purer what you were becomes.
When I exit the happy world
I seek you to sooth my somber spirits;
To calm my convulsed soul.                 
It's all I need to conduct me back.
When can my brown sisters
Behold you for just another while?

Victoria Nimi David, 


Marium Zaidi
I stand amidst a thorny crowd
no one to trust, full of doubts;
The things I see are real to touch
but not to perceive;
I am blind, blind to the evil
that lurks behind every soul
Even the thought of the slightest link
abandons me,
I am not here,
to admit! I besiege myself,
Rigid, as a cliff
with a deep cave ashore;
the cave, an empty cave
with an illuminated core
hides nothing and holds nothing;
I live in this nothingness,
I demand nothing;
I expect nothing;
But still I stand,
I stand to myself
certain and complete.
    by Jameel Heath
Passed through fire, rising higher,
I and the death fruit share one pyre,
then she whispers wisdom to my heart,
and pulls my mind up from the mire,
decked in skulls, I haunt old dusty halls, sitting reverently with the ghosts, or in a frenzy, taking a giant hammer to the walls,
here comes water, pass the blotter,
so I can see like we will then, (when?)
on that solstice when the sanity begins, over the field and through the gate, and somewhere Thoth just sits and grins, knowing that truth must always win.
Loralyn D. Sandoval
I looked around the gleam of life
Lost within the thought of mire
Oust the world with me to hold, I'm hanging 
Vowed the silent leaves I do admire 
Ere I cry the tears for living 
With each step and trek of life 
You are the succor of my spirit 
Out nowhere sights of hope abound 
Under the yoke of childlike faith I'll dream.
I'll trust.
I'll fight.
Until stars grow on trees...

by Zacchary Joseph

What happens if you do things backwards?

Of course it will probably look awkward.

But take a short time to think

Maybe itís not a bad idea

Besides what does it matter what others think Be spontaneous be pure, maybe backwards itís not so bad Maybe it will become the new fad Like the little engine that could Impossible is nothing Backwards is something

Whitney Northway
What do you write
When there's nothing?
Nothing but you
In a white room
Nothing to say
Nothing to do
What do you Think
When it's just blank
No Earth
No people
No one to blame
How would you explain
How did you beat the game
Did you even push play
Did you get the chance to go back
And learn the right way
Do you understand now
That you must remember how
What do you feel
When nothing is real
Where do you go
When no where is the only place
What would you do
If you woke up
And everything was erased?
  The Need
  pete gray
               Life is so short
               it's the heart that lives on
               Even though death came to me God said move on
               In this way of being , truly my life is hid
               In the love , hope and compassion of your heart
               if life were an ocean or the sea life
               and there was no darkness
               and everything was nice
               I would still need that love 
               because I still have the need 
               Even though i'm standing in all that I am
               life is only a gift , out of love and care for me
               not the design of my making 
               it's because you have seen the need

To enter the Forbidden Palace

You must empty out your hidden malice.

There's a door to pass by

Built by a butterfly

Whose wings form an Aurora Borealis.

John Butler 

*The Perfect Pair*

Like a blimp her belly does swell,

She feels fine, healthy and well,

She wonders when it will come,

So her pregnancy will just be done,

When she can have this little bundle of heaven, Will it be in a day, or two or seven, She feels the pains, shooting through her tummy, She lays on the ground, leaving the grain that was so yummy, She squeals and kicks, and then the sweats come, Watching this miraculous thing was so much fun, I see the water break, then a muzzle and a hoof, The other parts then come through and my heart skips a beat, Looking at Godís miracle, itís head and body and feet, Like a good mama she licks her clean, And after she does, her black coat shines and gleams, She stands upon those wobbly legs, I hope she stays up, I pray, I beg, Her legs hold true to this cute little filly, She looks kind of like a moose, gangly and silly, I stand in this perfect pairs grace, As they look at me, I feel the gleaming smile on my face, They both lope off, with blazes of white, And they take my spirit with them, as I spread my wings and take flight.

Donna Marrone
Nebula, phobia
Look at that tarantula
Crawling there in outer space
Better watch or he may chase
Star bright in the night
Wish I may and hope I might
See ten million awesome skies
Before I lose my Earth bound ties 
Nova, supra
Once around the loopa
Let the jets propel the car
And stir space like a soupa
Bizarre, Pulsar
Spinning little neutron star
Escaping fast from where you are
A milky way escape
Fireball beat them all
Take a thrilling little fall
If I die before you wake
Know that I appreciate



Poems Copyright © designated authors 2006.
Page Copyright © 2006.

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