It's Growing, by Antroy Wolfe

Like a snow ball rolling down the side of a snow-covered hill
it's growing
like the size of the fish that the main claims broke his reel
it's growing
like the rose bud blooming in the warmth of the summer sun
it's growing
like the tale by the time it's been told by more than one
it's growing

Every day it grows a little more than it was the day before
my love for you just grows and grows
and where it's going to stop I'm sure nobody knows

like the need in a guy to see his girl when she's gone away
it's growing
like the sadness in his heart when he knows that she's gone to stay
it's growing

it gets a little wider
nobody knows
it's gets a little stronger
the feeling from each kiss
it lasts a little longer
Can't you see us growing baby
it grows and grows and grows.

Where I Am Now, by Litany Lineberry

I am at a crossroad entwined within two paradigms,
done with my past but still looking toward my future.
I am growing each minute, each day, through self-motivation.
My blood is shivering in my body because I made it.
I am no longer wishing for a day with a presidential hopeful.
Nor reminiscing on a change to happen in America.
"Theme for English B" was written and today was read with fresh eyes.
Equally united through the passage of our past and present,
I am proud that Jena Six happened to show unity and that Jim Crow
did not gain an inch in this historic milestone.
I am pressing forward with my future being bright because I know
that life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is
Where I Am Now!

Where I am Now, by Tom Cassidy

I am grown and I am ready.
I wonder about my home and the air.
I hear a gurgling call urging me on
whileI see a speck through the green.
I want to be there, I want to go.

I am ready and I am grown
I pretend to be still.
I feel the air beneath me and I touch it.
I worry about nothing.
I cry my cry for you, for you.
I am ready. I am grown

I understand short life;
I scream it to the world,
I say "You! You!" while I dream
the dreams of life.
I try to hide on rooftops,
and when I scan my horizon,
I hope to see myself in your eyes.
I am grown. I am ready.

In the Colored Waiting Room, by Hammond Wylie

At the dentist's, when I was a little boy,
I waited with our maid.
She said,"Sit down Pup; be still."

In the Colored Waiting Room
the magazines were tattered.
I had seen those magazines before
in the other, cleaner room,
another time when I went with Grandmamma
to the dentist.

This time the room smelled funny,
like medicine and sweat.
There were colored boys and girls with their mamas.

And a white boy I knew from church was there.
Ricky Jones.
He said his maid Cortez was a nigger.
He said Margaret was a nigger too.
I told him she was not and decided not to like Ricky Jones anymore.

When we left the dentist's office,
we went to my father's drugstore,
up the block,
here I proudly showed off my new teeth
and drank a Coke for being such a good boy.

As we walked home, down Pressley Street
I asked, "Margaret, are you a nigger?"
She said, "No. No one is a nigger in this world."
I'm colored, like the door says."

I was satisfied with this
and asked her about bumblebees.

Where I'm From, by Tamara Miles

I'm from a papa preacher, Oscar Floyd Moon,
when church starts at 9:30, I mean 9:30, not 9:31.
I am from his bride, Dolly Jeanette, her hair braided and coiled,
her patchwork quilts for everyday use
(Thank you, Alice Walker).
When I said I love you, Granny Moon said, Bless you.
I am from people who missed school picking cotton,
an uncle whose first check from his first job bought
school lunches for the rest of the year for his eleven brothers and sisters,
who had previously gone without lunch or ate with some embarrassment
a cold biscuit from home.

I am from the Rook-playing crippled hands of my Aunt Sissie,
Moon Pies and RC's and an old wringer washer.
I am from that little red-haired girl adored by Charlie Brown,
and from a real red-haired girl, my mother, Sylvia,
who liked to play tennis and Scrabble and ride bikes on healthy legs
but died earlier this year in a nursing home, legs and heart
and mind and lungs drawn up from multiple sclerosis.
I am from that moment, holding her while she took her last breath,
a lonelier person with a greater appreciation of heaven.

I am from a drunken father, likeable enough now, too old to
cat around or beat his wife. Sober. He has gout, diabetes, arthritis,
heart disease, and only one kidney. We go to the movies, hold hands
during the Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.
We laugh, I love him.

I am from Jillian Delaney Miles, born to me at 6:23 on September 23, 1990,
who cried incessantly and didn't sleep all night til she was three, and then
discovered her joy. I am from Mommy, it's 7:30 and I've got a cowlick,
and When's the baby coming back? When I told her her unborn baby sister
had died. I am from the last time she fell asleep in my arms, when she was four,
and I knew somehow it was the last time. I am from last weekend, watching with
my seventeen year old Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and recognizing the ghost
of Christmas Past.

Where I Am Now, by Charles Nightingale

I am sincere/bold.

I wonder why humanity continues to reject peaceful negotiation for belligerent solutions.

I hear birds singing harmoniously.

I see unity in diversity with all our many splendored hues.

I want East and West to join hands.

I am sincere/bold.

I pretend I am a world traveler: India, Alaska, South America.

I feel more anxious than I should about society's crumbling.

I touch the future reality of the oneness of all religions.

I worry that God may run out of second chances for us to do the next right thing.

I cry that young people are so frequently incarcerated.

I understand the future is incalculably bright but tomorrow is still overwhelming.

I say Baha'u'llah, the Glory of God has come.

I dream all of we are one family, all of we are one family.

I try to teach let go and let God.

I hope the year 2021 will witness Mt Carmel [that is Haifa, Israel] hosting multitudes of Christians, Jews, and Moslems, too.

I am sincere/bold.

Where I Am Now, by Tembi Gray

I am a woman strong and passionate

I wonder why so many people are afraid of change

I hear the sound of tears of joy hitting the pavement just as the rain falls from heaven above

I see the reflection of the sunrise upon the oceans waves as its beauty radiates the sky the same way a painter uses precision and color to change a blank canvas into a work of art

I want a cappuccino from Starbucks, the one thing missing in Orangeburg where I live

I am a woman strong and passionate

I pretend to play house with my daughter as she becomes the mother and I digress into a child like manner and exercise my imagination and watch as hers is as its prime

I feel excited about the direction of my life although the entire plan has not been revealed but I continue to walk by faith and try not to depend so much in what I see

I touch the ruff surface of my grandmothers hands knowing that is the symbol of strength and love for without her unselfish acts I know that I would not be where I am today

I worry about whether or not my pen will capture the true manifestations of my heart and mind when at times words cannot explain my feelings

I cry when I see the faces of people living in poverty when we the US of A has millions of people so consumed in what I can get for mine without even thinking about so much as another

I am a woman, strong and passionate

I understand that God is the creator and owns the cattle on a thousand hills and I am his daughter so that makes me a beneficiary

I say true success is when opportunity meets preparation; I am sure that we’ve all heard the saying that is you fail to plan then plan to fail

I dream sometimes about growing old with my husband sitting on a porch drinking ice tea as we listen to the sounds of our great grand children laughing like the sounds of a majestic choir

I try to share my poetry with as many who will listen because telling it is the completion to writing it

I hope that my passion and strength was reflected in the word that I’ve written because

I am a woman, strong and passionate

Reinforcement, by Tamara Miles

In the bathroom at the high school
where I teach, two girls from the special
needs class wash their hands in the old white sink.
one lingers as the water rushes over her right
hand, left hand operating the chrome faucet.

I peek at her and she at me
while I quickly cleanse and towel.
I think of Helen Keller at the water pump,
her teacher spelling w-a-t-e-r into her hand
in the sunlight, and the mad and sudden
understanding.

The girl goes on washing one hand,
w-a-t-e-r, as if it is a spiritual ritual,
her friend now at the electric hand dryer,
looking at me looking at her,
all those eyes calculating and no words spoken
or spelled, but heavy in the air.
I am curious; this is awkward;
say something.

Her friend, who wears royal purple,
points to my keys,
which have fallen to the floor from my bag.
"Hey, your keys," she says, and I celebrate
the words, the dawn of her smile.
I am free to pick up the keys and go,
and still the girl washes.
W-a-t-e-r, I sign to God, to Him who sits
at the right hand of God, and think of
Jacob, struggling all night with the angel.
Jacob, walking with a limp forever after.

Where I Am Now, by Abdalla Straker

I am loud and constant

I wonder if my pulse is felt in distant lands

I hear melodies in the heavens

I see notes scrolling across the clefs of my mind

I want to paint a picture with rhythm that resonates for eternity

I am loud and constant

I pretend to be the heart of it all

I feel that all others must follow my lead

I touch the atmosphere with my vibration

I worry that my skin will suddenly burst

I cry when I am pounded instead of being played

I am loud and constant

I understand the importance of perfect timing

I say let’s come together to create music

I dream about unwritten songs that will need me

I try to always keep the band in-time and on-time

I hope for a masterpiece

I am loud and constant

Where I'm From, by Kayla Mullins

I am from wispy blond hair
and big brown eyes
I am from diapers and apple juice
Blankets and teething rings
I am from infancy

I am from Baptism
and Sunday school
from Kid’s Choir and VBS
from Conformation and Holy Communion
I am from St. Andrews United Methodist Church

I am from ABC’s
and hooked on phonics
I am from playgrounds
and time out
from lunch time and nap time
I am from kindergarten

I am from puberty
and rock and roll
I am from friends
and fights
I am from mascara
and formal dances
I am a teenager

I am from the SAT
and College Math
I am from prom
and graduation
I am from the Class of 2008

Where I Am Now, by Bernice Williams

I am unknown, but not unseen
I wonder what people see or think about when they see me
I hear nothing
I see nothing
I want to be known, but
I am unknown, but not unseen
I pretend to pay no attention, but
I feel their breath
I touch their hands
I worry that I am not accepted
I cry because it makes no sense
I am unknown, but not unseen
I understand that knowing the truth will neither hurt me nor make me
I say let it be
I dream that someday it will all make sense as
I try to feel my way through each day
I hope for tomorrow to be a better day
I am unknown, but not unseen.

Where I Am Now, by Anthony Williams

I am lost but I am found
I wonder if this path leads to the revelation set for me
I hear the footsteps of eternity walking beside me
I see where I have been but not where I really need to go
I want to run and run and still stay where I am
I am lost but I am found
I pretend I need to know but I really don’t care
I feel that whatever there is is not really there
I touch infinity but in my humanity can only know now
I worry that all that we think is imaginary is
I cry sometimes because that idea may be true
I am lost but I am found
I understand that human thought is boundless
I say that we need the freedom to explore it all
I dream of seeing what no one has seen
I try too hard sometimes to make it my reality
I hope that one day I’ll know the truth
Because I am lost but I’ve been found

Home Is Where My Mother Is, by Tamara Miles

Home is where my mother is, absent,
Green. Or is it where my daughter’s life is spent,
all bloom and beauty-full and content,
at seventeen. Is home somewhere in between?
In the aromatic sense of these two,
In the memories I keep,
In the bounty of grain growing deep
In the fields, sowing what I reap.
I gather home to me with each breath,
a train coming down the track bent,
noisily puffing, gasping my lament,
hurrying home, hardly seen.

Jena 6, by Litany Lineberry

Racism runs deep still in our souls
We make laws against it but that is just words on paper
How can we justify turning our backs on our country
We write it off as division being multiplied by lies and rejection
Our past we are to learn from but instead we make it our present
Can we change our fate and let our future show unity?
Unity now means equal but separate, together but complicated and truth but lies
Change was suppose to come over 100 years ago but yet it slowly evolved
Now in the "new age" we see change do a 180* having true hate arise again
Old symbolism returns to start controversy once again
Visual, verbal and physical abuse cause youth to turn back the hands of time
Going back centuries ago to that nation under God that was not unified
Why have our youth inherit such discipline that should have been destroyed?
A discipline that caused unjustice in our judicial system
Is it fair to take one side without looking at the situation as a whole?
We as a people, as one nation under God, should re-evaluate our stance on issues
Instead of looking at one negative look at all the wrong and judge accordingly
When we change our view of one sidedness then we can see the big picture
Charging with vengeance will finally be wrong, punishing sensibly will be right
SO let us say with out a doubt that we are truly "ONE NATION UNDER GOD" and end racism!

Final Call, by Litany Lineberry

I hear the last call for me to be alive
I wish it was you calling me to be at your side
The final call is ringing in my ears
I take one last glance
Oh why can't I live
Me and you should have been
But we were obviously in destiny graces
You say hi and I say bye
You say hey, I always turn away
When we do talk it's like a final call
Pushing away as it gets cold
We don't converse anymore because of me
I can't help you sometimes give me the creeps
It doesn't matter because the final call is here
Calling me away from it all
Second chances doesn't happen to me
If you see this please do not mourn for me
It's the Final Call.

"My Past, My Future", by Litany Lineberry

I live the life my ancestors fought hard for

Getting whipped, going free

through the

underground railroad
I grew up with my parents telling me my past will help pave my future
It is unfair that I have to live the DREAM
But through my eyes I hope you can see your hard work pay off
We are free, free to have property, and work our own land, free to have an education that will lead us to ressurection in America
I wish Harriet Tubman was here to see that she led the way to open doors to Obama to be president one day
I wish Malcolm X was here today to see black people unified and taking back our soul
My future is clear and like Martin's dream I hope to survive with equality knocking at my door
Martin looked over the mountaintop
But as for me I want to go over the mountain before I die
Because my past is my future and like Maya Angelou STILL I RISE!!!

Ciliary Body, by Tamara Miles

My inner body is as unknown to me
As the plains of Africa,

Its hills and valleys, crevices
Where mountain lions lie in wait
For the immune system to grow weary
And falter.

The bobcat’s tail swings in anticipation.
The jaguar emerges from his nap.
All the cats set to pounce, to kill.
Deep in the night, I cannot rest for fear
They will smell me, they will leap.
My fingers clinch.

I try to think instead of mountain goats,
High, out of reach, sturdy on their feet.
Itinerant. Joyful.

But the king of beasts lazily
Moves toward me, not slouching toward
Bethlehem after all, not to be born
But to slay my paralyzed cells.
He is not to be tamed.

I am humbled by these felines,
Vaguely honored, in fact,
To be eaten nearly alive,
Neck snapped, spinal cord useless,
Vertebrae scattered.

Behind the iris, I wait for those dry, yellow days.

Where I Am Now, by Karen Buckman

I am courageous and free.

I wonder where I will be.

I hear the crowd roar.

I see a mighty eagle.

I want to enrich the lives of others.

I am courageous and free.

I pretend to soar.

I feel that each and everyday is custom-made for me.

I touch success.

I worry that sometimes I am not at my best.

I cry for others who aren’t as enthusiastic as me.

I am courageous and free.

I understand life.

I say live and let live.

I dream of abundance of health and wealth.

I try to always improve myself .

I hope that happiness and success is destined to be.

I am courageous and free.

Where Was I, by Kayla Mullins

Where was I

I wish I knew

My body

I’ve been told it was there

Lungs pumped with oxygen

My heart beat in rhythm

But my soul

The person that I am

Where was I

The world changed

But I slept through

The civil rights movement

Changed the nation

Martin Luther King, Jr. dreamed

And I dreamed too

But divisions continued

Violence in Orangeburg

But I was at peace

Kennedy

The Cold War

And Space Program

We saw the moon

But what did I see

Where was I

Nixon, Vietnam

People died in war

Was I dead inside?

Transition, New World Order

Reagan, Carter, Bush

Things changed

My body aged

New hope

In each sign of life

Slowly awakening

To a new day

In 1990

Where was I

I missed so much change

It is like I wasn’t even here at all

Like I was not even born yet

I Am, by Theresa Bonaparte

“I AM”

I AM FULL OF DREAMS AND VERY MUCH AFRAID .
I WONDER WHERE I STAND IN THIS LIFE,
I HEAR THE CHEERS OF UNFAMILAIR CHANTINGS THAT SING SOFTLY, “WE KNOW THAT YOU CAN DO IT.”
I SEE THE PERFORMANCE OF ME IN MY TWISTED THOUGHTS,
AND THAT SO CALLED IMAGINATION OF MINE.
I WANT TO GRASP THINGS THAT ARE IMPOSSIBLE OR TOO FAR TO REACH.
I AM FULL OF DREAMS AND VERY MUCH AFRAID

I PRETEND TO HAVE IT ALL: LIFE, HAPPINESS, AND SERENITY,
WHICH I KNOW IS NOT TRUE, BECAUSE I’M STILL SEARCHING FOR THAT POT OF GOLD AND ALL OF THE ABOVE
I FEEL THE EARTH RUMBLE AS I GLIDE ACROSS ITS SURFACE
I TOUCH THE RAYS OF SUNLIGHT, I WEAR THE SCENT OF NATURE,
AND I SMILE THE SMILE OF MONA LISA LIKE IT BELONGED TO ME
I WORRY ABOUT TOMORROW AND OTHER DAYS WAY BEFORE THEY COME,
I CRY ALOT ON THE INSIDE SO THAT NO ONE WILL SEE MY SMILE TURN UPSIDE DOWN

I AM FULL OF DREAMS AND VERY MUCH AFRAID
I UNDERSTAND THAT THINGS DON’T ALWAYS TURN OUT THE WAY WE EXPECT
I SAY TO MYSELF JUST DON’T GIVE UP, KEEP TRYING AND TRYING AND TRYING UNTIL THAT PIECE CONNECTS
I DREAM OF BEING ACCEPTED INTO THE LAND WHERE THERE IS NO EXPLANATION OF WHATEVER COMES FROM ME, BUT PEOPLE LOVE ME JUST AS I AM
SO I TRY TO BE A PART OF EVEN WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING OR HOW I’M SUPPOSED TO ACT
SO I HOPE THAT SOMEONE WILL REACH OUT HIS HAND AND SHOW ME HOW TO DANCE TO THIS MUSIC OR HOW TO PERFORM IN THIS PLAY THAT WAS WRITTEN FOR ME TO BE ALL THAT I CAN BE AND MORE,
AND HELP ME ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO FOLLOW TO WHERE WE CAN BE FREE AND WHOEVER OR WHATEVER WE WANT TO BE
I AM FULL OF DREAMS AND VERY MUCH AFRAID

BUT STILL I AM ME, AND YES I AM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHICH IS STILL FULL OF DREAMS AND VERY MUCH AFRAID……………………………….

You Can't Take it With You, by Sean McDowell

Where was I when God’s hands opened

and all light was brought

When there was nothing but silence,

had I even been a thought?
Where was I when Dad said “kill it.”

Was my heart even able to beat?

The only taste I knew was my thumb,

visions and my eyes had yet to meet.
Where was I when cancer took my grandpa,

when smoking took my friends,

or love took me

Probably thinking depressing thoughts

or just watching TV.
Where was I when the house burned down

and with it went my life as a child.

I hated that house anyway.

I hope the fires were tall and wild.
Where will I be in the future,

when this poem is never read?

Everything I ever had will be gone

and I’ll surely be dead.

I don’t know much in this world

except that God is the earth and the day

I realized a long time ago

that nothing’s really mine anyway.

Where I Am Now, by Benae Ritter

Hating what I've become but loving it all the same,

If I still had a heart, my soul would be ashamed

To learn that my conscience is no longer pure

Unsure of what to do, but no longer wanting to endure

And so I willingly defile a reputation self-imposed

Cut by the thorns of the unscented rose

That blows in the wind of a boxed in room

With doors closed tight so now my mind's my tomb

And I apoligize to myself before anyone else

But it calls me back with unheard stealth

And I answer every call faithfully to the end

Sad to find out the tremendous price of a sin

Paid in full in the future so I can enjoy right now

Closed eyes; escaping flows; and a trembling brow

Scared and Elated wanting only for the moment

Refusing to chase the love that long ago was stolen

And so a soul comes along to replace what I miss

To grant what I hope but always forget to wish

And the new soul brings the fresh hope of tomorrow

Relying on its own life so mines it never has to borrow

The force from; to power what it will

The overflow of love, an overspill that could kill

A nectar so sweet but still forbidden by God

Eaten by my thoughts and so into Paradise I'm never allowed

Where I Am Now, by Debbie Gideon

I am an openhearted, enthusiastic woman.

I wonder where I will go once leaving this life on earth.

I hear my kindred spirits, “we’re one with the universe.”

I see colors of people representing a rainbow.

I want to love and be loved unconditionally.

I am an openhearted, enthusiastic woman.

I pretend to have boundless energy to aide the needs of people in this world.

I feel great about life and my ability to live.

I touch in you what can not be seen … your heart.

I worry that I should not worry because everything will be alright … Let go and let God.

I cry out loud periodically, but no one really hears…

I am an openhearted, enthusiastic woman.

I understand that selfless love does exist when one loves unconditionally.

I say treat others as you desire to be treated…love as you desire to be loved.

I dream that dreams do come true… we live to dream and dream to live.

I try not to say, “I’ll try.”

I hope for universal love, peace, patience, and tranquility.

I am an openhearted, enthusiastic woman.

Where I Am Now, by Tamara Miles

I am a colorful contradiction.

I wonder what suffering mixed with redemption makes.

I hear Prince singing “Purple Rain, Purple Rain.”

I see my reflection in the mirror, and

I want a robe and crown.

I am a colorful contradiction.

I pretend to say “Let them eat cake.”

I feel ashamed.

I touch my guilty heart for reassurance.

I worry that I haven’t given enough love in this world, that I have been an emotional cannibal.

I cry over the schoolchildren buried in rubble from an earthquake.

I am a colorful contradiction.

I understand that the walls are falling down.

I say, “I will share my bread with you” and then hide the basket.

I dream that Jesus takes the loaves and feeds the world.

I try to ignore the cries of hunger.

I hope that for every day my belly has been full I have done a good thing.

I am a colorful contradiction.

Lost and Found, by Jennifer Keltcher-Delisle

I used to live in a bubble
of confusion and disorder
of illusions and dreams
of a grown child

I used to live in a dark place
where the waves raged
and the water
black and bitter
fed me

I used to live in the depths
of my own self grandeur
my own fragile vanity
egotism
arrogant
and I was a victim

But even the most
embedded virus
can be birthed
out of its disease
and into the display
of a newborn

Here I am
Here I find myself
lost as never before
cold and tired
and the world rejoiced
for She has arrived!

Where once I survived
the only way I knew how
I am defenseless in this place
I do not know
I do not know

Its a brave new world
or so they say
the path traveled by one and all
for all must age
for all must mature
for all must die

I cannot go backwards
I have learned to stand on
wobbly legs
immature mind
learning responsibilities
and yet

That not so distant past
calling to me
I hear it in my dreams
the enclosing
the warmth of sickness

I will grow stronger
a new soul
a new mind
hope is the seed of life
and the Bible says
that if one has faith
as a mustardseed
then one can move mountains
or so it says

Can I move a mountain
Can I swim a sea
Can I dream a good dream
Can I open my eyes and really see

Is this what life is?

It calls to me
I hear it now
yesterday
last night
a moment ago

I cannot go home.

-JKD @ Feb 2008

Observance, by Gloria Holden

Prelude - Oh lord let me see past what's standing in front of me.

As I start my day, these questions have come to me.

Am I being who God called me to be?

Am I living holy so others can see?

Am I being as righteous as I should be?

And what about my honesty?

Oh, God have mercy on me.

Am I speaking the words as though playing a part?

Am I seeking the lord with all of my heart?

Am I looking around to analyze you?

Am I taking inventory of the things that I do?

For in you Christ Jesus I must be true.

Finale- Sometimes what is standing in front of me is ME!

Insight (Get yourself out of your way)

Where I Am Now, by Anita Valdez

I am somebody special and pure at heart

I wonder why we pick our friends and encircle them

I hear the wind caressing the ocean

I see myself mounting on wings and soaring like eagles

I want to share myself through humble service

I am somebody special and pure at heart

I pretend being a historic person born into history

I feel decisions determine my destiny

I touch faith

I worry about ignorance and pride

I cry about the evil powers of darkness

I am somebody special and pure at heart

I understand the pain of having no hope

I say your heart can’t bear sadness and sorrow

I dream of marveling at faith of trembling steps into new grounds

I try to speak the truth

I hope for a change in society and a better world

I am somebody special and pure at heart

Crossroads, by Janet Kozachek

Crossroads

I am at the crossroads of two lives

and stand poised on the threshold of reinventing the soul

I wonder how my new wings will feel

when I fly away from the duplicity of the past

I hear the train whistle in the distance

a plaintive cry that yet exudes warmth

I see the horizon where tracks vanish to a point

measured against the length of a human life

just grazing the edge of consciousness

I want to know the life that was withheld

and not to mourn the lack

but forge instead a path to new uncertainties

I am at the crossroads of two lives

I pretend to be in control of destiny

in self-actualized American transcendence

I feel that there is no peace there

in self help and pulled up bootstraps

- only a community of the lonely

sequestered away behind transparent borders

I touch the glass wall that separates us

and worry that we will never hear each other

as I cry out impenetrable sighs

across immutable boundaries

to seek a place where inside and outside embrace each other

I am at the crossroads of two lives

I understand that the future is confounded mystery

eluding intentions and expectations

mocking both dreams and apprehensions

I say let it come crashing down

opening its gates or slithering under the door

for I am ready

ready to dream of taking a great unknowing leap

to try to land on an unknowable spot

Unafraid of death but fearing pain

I hope that landing will not bruise my soul

I am at the crossroads of two lives

Where I Am Now, by C. Moon

I am not pretending to be what the world wants to see…skinny enough, funny enough, pretty enough, smart enough

I am not hoping to be what “they” want me to be …mom of the year, Bunko champion, whose –who of the supper clubs

I do not want to warm a pew just to say I was there every Sunday or recite verses so to impress…

It has become more.

I want the world to see me content with whom God created me to be… skinny or fat, good and bad hair days, when my jokes fail and when my lectures are a bomb

I hope to please God and in the process, if it’s what they wanted me to be…okay. Mom of the year gives spankings misses Bunko to be with her family, and if she goes to supper club, it is to be genuine and not to be political and see how many people she can impress.

I want to go into God’s house to truly worship…and say thank you for these thirty something years...

The Tao of Insomnia, by Hammond Wylie

Thoughts pour into my brain ---
an old girlfiend,
a recipe for shrimp,
the dent in the hood of my car,
a dead squirrel,
mistletoe.
I refuse Xanax
and wait till five a.m. to make coffee,
hoping for sleep.
I watch Bobby Flay and Matt Lauer cook duck legs.
I listen to an infomercial for 80's rock.
I smoke cigarettes and feed the cats.
The dog's confused.
It's far too early for his morning dump.
He snores on the couch,
mocking me.
Lying on his back with his feet in the air,
he chases rabbits in his dreams.
And my dream curdles in a puddle of sleepless night.

Tomorrow's Day, by Famekia Dingle

When the moon is full and there's no one else around,
my mind gets down to inspect the grounds

by which I live, by which I see,
by which I motivate myself to be me.

Having all this stuff inside my head,
trying not to be so full of dread,

dealing with the impurities of the mind,
working through a hell of a time,

toiling with life's adversities,
aiming always to please,

even though knowing that's hard to do.
Still trying through and through.

Asking questions others don't,
telling things that others won't.

Cleaning all the mess,
wiping away trash that was left.

Hanging new portraits on the walls,
giving tomorrow's day a new call.

Preparing for another day,
starting over the same way.

Where I Was When the Yong He Gong Opened its Doors and Was Abruptly Closed, by Janet Kozachek

The red sun rises over China

in the dawn that brings new arrivals

An east wind blowing across their path

uncovers the relics of old ways

The Temple of Eternal Joy

Flings wide its ethereal gates

inviting travelers from the west

into the sanctum of Tantric mysteries

Their rapacious eyes opened wide

Disbelief pried their jaws agape

Perusing the exotic unimaginable

statues of gods in erotic embrace

Painted in blue, emblazoned in gold

and dancing in sinuous lines

with hands held high on multiple arms

delicate fingers folded in secret signs

A womanly body with an elephant head

cavorts in sensual play

Her pendulous breasts grazing the chest

of the divine one in her leg’s embrace

Couples intertwined in ecstacy

point the way to enlightened glory

man to woman, woman to man

and woman to four-legged beasts

Their unions blazing in fiery halos

emanating from venerated heads

wooden bodies writhing in clouds and rain

falling like torrents in hallowed halls

As secrets seen and heard become secrets no more

and reach the eyes and ears of authorities

the censor dispenser of ordered society

closes the gates to the Buddhist display

The red and the expert behind closed doors

debate on what is to be done

to appease their guests while saving face

committee decisions pleasing all and no one

Seasons come and seasons go

The Buddhist temple opens once more

But all that remains are barren halls

and a few sculptures cloth covered chin to toe

Where I Was When Van Gogh Died, by Tamara Miles

I was a shadow in God’s eye

Cast from the future,

A black crow in the distant cornfield,

part of the mystified museum crowd

in New York City

One hundred years later,

that would stand

before Starry Night and tremble

at its savage beauty,

colors that predicted blues and jazz

and suffering and nirvana.

I would come to share his brother’s

experience of cradling my loved one

in the deathbed,

Would come to love the prostitutes

and thieves,

Would understand

that so little

Separates us all.

A few choices made,

the quick

sharp knife raised,

Bitter words whispered

to ourselves

and believed,

Fragile minds bent toward a

desperate cause.

I was there, Vincent, in the

Same way that you are here

now, a black crow in the

distant cornfield.

Voyage to Reese Hart, by Julia Helen Garris

We curled our souls
on the china-brothel tree
Alive and whee and gestampf and galumpy!

Virgil stomped and whined
"Druids leap at the pumpernickel gate
Fasten your seat belts, what a whale
of malarkey and bone and beer."

Retire at the firewood, you jingle balls merry
Polite cupcakes trimmed in ocean brown
Frothy people-wit, "Two bucks
Spit and curry."

Quintessence smoky pipecob dreams?

Where I'm From ... by Maurice Gordon

Who am I, what am I?

And where I ‘m from

I come from the moterlamd

where they carried us beyond

---

To Jam us, to make us ,

do their plan

They didn’t care about I

As I was only a solution

I’m from the land, the land Jah mek

Where I f-e-e-l the r-i-d-d-i-m

T-e-a-c-h the r-i-d-d-i-m

And r-i-d-e the r-i-d-d-i-m

In my land, we family large

One mother but two or more fathers

Many brothers and sisters

So I leave my land, with a plan

Come to your land

With my instrument

and riddim in hand

To help you under stand

How to r-i-d-e the r-i-d-d-i-m

Why we cry the r-i-d-d-i-m

And how to drive the r-i-d-d-i-m

I’m from the land, the land Jah mek

Where I f-e-e-l the r-i-d-d-i-m

T-e-a-c-h the r-i-d-d-i-m

And r-i-d-e the r-i-d-d-i-m

“Where I’m From,

The land of wood and water

Where the sunshine’s daily on the mountain top

Marley is jamming on one drop

Wailing like a like a cutting razor

And it don’t stop

As Marcus started with one aim, one destiny and one god

Fom mento to ska, rocksteady to reggae, and dub to dancehall

all in one, lOVE…… Irie

Where I Was When ... by Tom Cassidy

Tom's poem needed a little introduction, so this is what he offered us:

Growing up on Long Island in the 1960's, we lived in New York's orbit, and heard for years about this project to build a building that would be even larger than the Empire State Building, which my mother remembered being built when she was a kid. Around the time I was in third grade, a boy in my class did a report (there had been an article about it the little news magazine we got) in which he said it was going to be almost a mile high. That's the germ of this. I constructed a report that such a student might have given. My brother David swore that on a class trip to the Empire State Building, he had dropped a penny from the observation deck, so I used that. When I was a kid, I was scared to death of heights, and I put that in there.

Then having written it out, I sculpted it three different ways, each time starting from the beginning, picking words and phrases and parts of words. My rule was that I could use any words or letters from the report so long as I used them in the order in which they occurred.

In 1968, a Third Grade Student Reports to His Class on the World Trade Center, then Being Built

___________________________________________________________

History Replies

MY NAME IS BOBBY ACKERMAN AND THIS IS MY REPORT ON THE WORLD TRADE CENTER WHICH IS BEING BUILT IN NEW YORK CITY. IT IS GOING TO BE THE BIGGEST BUILDING IN THE WORLD. THERE ARE GOING TO BE TWO OF THEM AND THEY ARE GOING TO BE BIGGER THAN THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING. LAST YEAR I VISITED NEW YORK CITY AND MY SISTER BECKY SAID THAT IF I WENT UP TO THE TOP OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING AND LOOKED DOWN THE PEOPLE WOULD LOOK LIKE ANTS. I WANTED TO GO BUT MY MOTHER WAS AFRAID I MIGHT FALL OFF. MY BROTHER DAVID SAID HE WAS GOING TO THROW PENNIES FROM THE TOP AND WATCH THEM FLY INTO TAXI CABS BUT SHE SAID NOBODY IS GOING UP THERE TODAY. I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE WORLD TRADE CENTER TO BE BUILT. SO I CAN GO UP TO THE TOP AND SEE THE PEOPLE LOOK LIKE ANTS. IT IS GOING TO BE ALMOST A MILE HIGH AND I LIVE A MILE AWAY FROM SCHOOL AND THAT IS A VERY LONG WAY. THIS HAS BEEN MY REPORT ON THE WORLD TRADE CENTER WHICH IS GOING TO BE IN NEW YORK CITY. THE END.

i

My name is Bobby Ack.

My world is being built.

It is going to be big.

I can see the top.

I can’t wait to be.

ii.

The world is bigger than the empire.

I might fall off, and

I can’t trade up.

A mile high and a mile away,

My port on the world

Is going to end.

iii.

In New York City,

The people, like ants, fly high

A very long way.

Where I'm From .... by Julie Yadinak

I am from

Stars that reel

Around boundless skies

In tendrils

Of pin-poked light holes

That throb like minute heart beats;

Inside the womb

Of a half-eaten night

I am from

Dust that flickers and fans

In tawny ribbons

Of bright-eyed sunbeams;

Dashing through

The cosmos

On muted, buoyant feet

I am from

Last night’s bed,

The evening’s disciple,

And an edgy, mislaid colloquy

On a hung-over, half-bred morning;

Drinking coffee

In the shade of spirits long deceased

I am from

The profit (and the pain) of lying in the childbed

Markedly callow and unwitting;

Striving to digest the enormity

Of something so ostensibly small

And helpless

I am from

The shards of shattered fables,

Swept up into handfuls of jagged debris

And emptied into the refuse

Of a one parent domicile

I am from

A chronicle of womanly resolve

Wound into snaky veins

That traverse the backs of hands,

And legs

As we voyage from blue collars,

To white collars,

To rainbow sprinkles

On tiptoes of an unbending dream