by Marie Fischer
Toledo, Ohio 43606
The bells are tolling for some one
Each moment of every day;
One day for us life will be done,
Maybe without time to pray.
Yet we keep right on living
Life to its fullest extent;
Never a thought are we giving
To the time when it will be spent.
It’s high time we took inventory
Of our deeds both good and bad;
For all our sins to be sorry
And thank God for the happiness had.
The Emperor’s New Clothes
by Helen Pelosi
Peace Cove, Warwick, RI 02886
Future poets, shackled to new altars,
I wave to you outside your iron gate;
Pleading with the Muse that you’ll touch people
Whom writers often underestimate.
Blacksmith sound still rings within the steel mills…
Do any words remain to show its flame
That toilers could repeat with measured heartbeat?
Such poetry once earned a poet fame.
Academia boosts its scrambled crosswords
For Sophomoric minds, stirred with intent
To analyze equivocated jigsaws,
Certain of exactly what was meant.
Down the spiraled path of planned confusion
Scholars of today do their own thing…
There need no longer be a rhyme or reason,
Nor mystic music for a heart to sing.
I, for one, reject these wild abrasions,
Believing people like descriptive word;
Poets – use your gift, your art of rhythm…
Flood the world, until the song is heard.
By Velma Lamoreaux
Marshalltown, Iowa 50158
“What is this thing?” prissy Larkspur inquired,
Shaking blue petals form the rose she admired;
And calling attention to flowers nearby,
“Even the honeybees hum a soft sigh
Each time they gather their honey from us…
This ugly thing is creating a fuss!”
Jack-In-The-Pulpit denied that he knew;
Iris and Lily claimed no knowledge, too…
Peonies waved in the warm summer breeze
And paid no attention to the Larkspur’s pleas.
A worm-hunting robin worked near the thing.
Hopped up on its rim and started to sing,
Then chirped, “Miss Larkspur,
The thing in your plot
Is a plastic bloom
In a ceramic pot!”
by Marie L. Fischer
When there comes the light of day,
All bad dreams will fade away;
What “mountains” bothered through the night
Will become “molehills” in the daylight.
So do not ever dread the night,
For things will change come morning’s light;
Instead let us attempt to focus
On all the good God gave to us.
Life’s Angry Seas
by Harry Solcum Tordoff
Cranston, RI 02920
The seas of life get rough at times
As storm tossed waves leap high,
And when they do… then oftentimes
We almost cease to try.
We all have crossed such stormy seas,
Where the mighty waves boded ill…
But Christ took our hand, said; “I’ll guide thee,
We’ll obey my Father’s will.”
So, into the depths of those angry seas
We stepped… unafraid of our destinies.
* * * *
Thanks for your many cards and letters. I appreciate your kind wishes and your approval of the Quill. I will try to live up to your expectations in future issues.
– La Verne
* * * *
by Marie L. Fischer
They say the streets are paved with gold
In that heaven, so far away…
But can they outshine the bold
Glistening snowflakes that lay
On the land in freezing cold
This wondrous winter day?
The earth is a veritable wonderland,
Bedecked in fluffy snowflakes, white.
Seemingly painted by a master hand
Intent on creating a matchless sight.
Sis and Me!
by LaVerne Stallings
Sister plays with dolls and jacks
And pretends at drinking tea…
Now, just what fun that stuff can be
Sure seems strange to me.
She makes-believe in grown-up clothes,
And wears our mommy’s shoes…
Well, that’s alright for girls, I guess,
But it’s not the things I choose.
Catching bumblebees in jars
And craw-dads with a stick,
And pollywogs in old tin cans
Is really a neat trick!
To feel the mud squeeze through your toe
While fishing in the creek,
And jumping in when it gets hot
Is all the fun I seek.
I’ll bet she’s never caught a frog,
Or even played with snakes!
And that’s a shame, but I sure am glad
That boys get all the breaks…
Aw! I guess I ought to show her how
To have some fun, like me…
With dogs and frogs and pollywogs,
And snakes and bumblebees!
Poetry, To Me
by Arnold Kleiner
Miami, Florida 33150
Why do I like poetry?
It does so much for me…
My thoughts are ever spreading
Like the branches on a tree.
A poem each day reaps a rich reward,
With depth and beauty like a musical cord…
The listener’s reaction is something to behold,
Making my life richer than treasures of gold.
So, onward through life I merrily go…
Where to, and when, I never know.
Doing all I can to pleasure, and please
With poetry folks can enjoy with much ease!
As evening draws nigh, I’m happy to say
This has been a most glorious day.
Tomorrow will come, a new day will ring,
And the pleasures of poetry I’ll once again sing!
Excerpt from Echoes
125 pg. Perfect bound. Selling in leading book stores for $4.00. For limited time to U.A.P. members price reduced to $3.00. Plus .50¢ postage and handling.
The Eloquent Quill
Concord, CA 94519