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San Gorgonio Pass Poets Society |
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From: Haiku and other forms of verse by Marnie Wilson Mountaintops dusted with snow, barren trees, gleaming diamond gems of ice.
Autumn days grow short leaves fall from bright colored trees farewell to summer.
QUATRAIN I believe in angels, I have one of my own, a guardian who takes care of me, I never feel alone.
THE NEWS We hear the news The speaker's views The plight of Jews The laid-off blues The teams that lose The fan who boos The gangs that cruise Who pays the dues He blows a fuse She gets a bruise The spouse who sues I sometimes muse If I could choose I'd ban the news
THE WASTREL Today was mine to do with as I pleased. No duties to face no tasks to complete no prods, no goals, Nothing! Now, the day is gone and there is nothing to show for it Not even a memory!
SEARCHING Someone, somewhere there must be who understands the likes of me
GROWING I'm living I'm learning I'm loving I'm glowing I'm High Noon I'm special
GRAMMAR If a designing criminal Had been a good English student, He probably would have decided That using bad English was prudent Then when he was arrested For a car-jack or stealing a ring, He could honestly answer, "I swear, I ain't done nothing." Most policemen or lawyers Would hear only language uncouth. He'd be saved by a double negative because he was telling the truth.
On Considering a Thing at a Yard Sale by Jean Banning I'll not be dictated to by an labels. My decisions won't be forced by tape or glue. Regimented. That's not my way of thinking. This tag insists this is a laundry basket. Well, I could put a sleepy baby in it, Plant tulips, store old newspaper and the like. I could upend it and beat rhythm on it. Why not tear off all the labels in our lives And watch to see what happens? Such joy! Such skill! And such disasters! Let's go ahead and take a chance and buy it. You and I needn't always be or have Just a laundry basket.
Teamwork by Vern The powerful steed with a glint in is eye Watches the herd...every steer. He keeps them together, allowing no strays, Sometimes from afar, sometimes near. Each day is long, and dusty and hot, Each evening he welcomes his rest. Yet he never backs down from the job he must do, Never gives less than his best. When the cattle drive is over and they're back on the ranch again, The cowboy will wash the dust from his throat and speak of the horse as a friend. For they work the trails together from morning 'til day's end, And it's this noble, gentle giant That has made them better men.
Fill 'im Up? by Don I wouldn't have made a good cowboy-- I'm a son of the city, of course; When I'm out on the range People look at me strange As I try to put gas in my horse!
From: Reflections of the Soul by Marian Yost Words Words are my Life. I love every one, I would taste and sup its purpose and meaning in my world. Words are both sweet and bitter, they kiss and they bite. The Cat and I know that as she nips me and runs, leaving a trail of laughter behind her. Words are like that.
From: Easter Joy by Desoree Osorio We are undeserving, Dear Lord, But you have not given up on us. Easter is the celebration, Set aside each year, To review your unselfish gift, Given on our behalf. The sacrifice to end all. Your perfect human son. The Lamb Of God. Those who ask can be cleansed. Cleansed of the sins of our forefathers. Cleansed by the blood of the Lamb Of God.
Kaleidoscope by Inge Horn I held an instrument of beauty and precision and by proper definition cylindrical its form. Through a disc-like passage viewing in suspension and pursuing held were many-colored bits of glass. Just a turn a slight rotation I observed a new creation gems of turquoise, coral, gold. Moving slowly, just a fraction, something new came into action Birds in flight through jungle's green. Trance-like spreading separation flowing into bold formations Patterns of a Persian rug. Revolve again, I'd glide through space enchanted in a spellbound phase And landed on a purple star. I drank the rain-drops , dipped in sun, chased after meteoroids one by one And held a rainbow in my hand. I saw embroidery on brocade a secret garden I invade Saw my reflection in a pond. All this in fractions of rotation, the land appeared "Imagination" With magic woven through and through. I held an instrument of beauty and precision and by proper definition, cylindrical its form.
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San
Gorgonio Pass Poets Society
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