Poetic Hours Online Autumn 2008 |
Your Poetry |
The Thrie Keings frae Alexander Gray The war thrie keings cam frae the East Thay spiered in ilka clachan Ai, which is the wey ti Bethlehem Ma bairns sae bonnilie lauchin? Ai, naither yung or auld coud tell; Thay trailed till thair feet war wearie. Thay follaed a bonnie gowden stern That shane in the lift sae cheerie. The stern stuid ower the yill-houss byre Whaur the stable gear wes hingin. The owsen mooed, the bairnie grat; The Keings beguid thair singin. Dr David Purves |
Day of Infamy Not December 7, 1941, nor September 11, 2001, but instead, todayOctober 18, 2008. For it was upon this very day, with my being merely forty-nine years of age and my looking no worse for wear than any other time of year, that I was given unbeknownst and unbidden the first senior discount of my life. David W. Rushing |
Remember Everything I remember everything My dear wife has said It exists from her mouth And went right in my head Take out the trash Sit up straight Go to the grocery store And don't come home too late I remember everything My dear wife has uttered But how can I do it When I am so befuttered Pick the children after school Go to the post office Don't forget the laundery And clean up this damn mess So yes and yes and yea are so I remember everything from her tongue That dose not mean however I am going to get in done G David Schwartz |
Hindsight The man I was supposed to marry got married today, and I remembered us. Holding hands on a freshly stained porch, cursing his dad for being a preacher, selfishly moving to build another church while tearing our puppy love affair apart. And I recalled the first miserable month of college, how the nightly phone calls turned into weekly checkups, the carpel tunnel love letters to tattered shoebox postcards. The distance I so damned to hell, now the blessing, and I thanked God for placing Illinois where She did, a long bike ride away Natalie Dorfield |
old rusty gate from day to day my memory swings like an old rusty gate it squeaks where did i put my shoes where's my specs they were just here a bit ago i push the old rusty gate opening my view of yesterday and the days before when the gate is open a child appears a can of oil inside the gate Lennard W Eccles |
