Requiem for Three Zebras

Across the glittery green
Of verdant meadows, rain-ripened,
Briny sea scents tang the crystal air
While basking seals bark into the morning hush
And clusters of wildflowers open sleepy eyes.
And on the lush and fertile hillocks
Wildlife laze and graze and roam
In peaceful harmony.

Harmony often evades our social order. Alas.
We, the assigned shepherds of all things earthly,
Too often and selfishly ravage our precious heritage.
And so it is that the deafening blast
From the weapon of an angry rancher
Forever robs us of the slash of black
and the gash of white
Three beautiful zebras who will wander no more
On the wind-swept bluffs of our majestic coast.

by: Gigi

UNDERSTANDING ALICE'S RABBIT

Monday is already here
Sorry, no poem I fear.
You see, I just got back
Then the rush to catch up
On this and that.

Next thing I know it's Monday,
A quarter to seven,
I need a poem to share
A bit of heaven.

What poem do I choose?
Oh, dear, I barely have time
To grab my shoes!

I'm out of time
Oh, look, this rhymes!
Well, then, never mind!

by: Sam

Some People Like Poetry

Some people -
that is not everybody
Not even the majority, but the minority.
Not counting the schools where one must,
And the poets themselves,
There will be perhaps two in a thousand.

Like -
but we also like chicken noodle soup,
we like compliments and the color blue,
we like our old scarves,
we like to have our own way,
we like to pet dogs.

Poetry -
but what is poetry?
More than one flimsy answer
has been given to that question.
And I don't know, and don't know, and I
cling to it as to a lifeline.

by: Wislawa Szymborska
submitted by: Willy

SLEEPLESS

Those long, dark nights when sleep comes not
In truth, I am content.
If tomorrow never dawns
There's no yesterday to lament.

CHRONICLES OF MY HEART

I love to stretch awake each morning, especially when the sun is streaming through my windowpane.
I love to remember my childhood, blessed by caring parents, grandparents, 4 brothers, 3 uncles, 5 aunts and 13 cousins.
I love the bar my parents set for living happily and harmoniously.
I love the innocent adolescent fun I had with "my crowd."
I love that "my crowd" plays together to this very day.
I love re-living the moment Jim and I pledged to love each other forever.
I love that we loved each other forever.
I love remembering the day each of our 4 children was born.
I love those children; they make me proud, happy and humble.
I love the 5 grandchildren my children and their mates have given me; they delight my heart.
I love to recall travels to wondrous destinations.
I love the heady places I've lived: legendary Philadelphia, vibrant Harrisburg, historic Washington, pretty Camarillo and idyllic Cambria.
I love my little blue bungalow on New Jersey's tranquil seashore.
I love my sprawling silver home on California's craggy coast.
I love the roar of the ocean, the wind in the pines, the magic of fog, the twinkle of stars.
I love flowers, hummingbirds, spindly-legged deer, Monarch butterflies.
I love my morning newspaper, a good novel, poetry.
I love words.
I love a flute of sparkling champagne.
I love a cuppa...that's Irish shorthand for "hot tea."
I love the precious friends I've made at each stop along my joyous journey.
I love to stretch awake each morning,
even when the sun isn't streaming through my windowpane,
because it's shining in my heart.

By: Gigi

ONE DAY

ONE DAY
I will not judge
Nor give heed to being judged.

ONE DAY
I will listen
And respond where I used to react.
With only love I will
Say what I mean
And mean what I say
Hopefully without an attack.

ONE DAY
I will view all experiences
Even those negative
As an opportunity to improve and learn
Thus turning it all into the positive.

ONE DAY
I will not worry
Not to say I won't care
I will have learned
That worry gets me absolutely nowhere.

ONE DAY
I will have learned
To take the spotlight off the rotten apple
Which is only in the minority
The focus will be on the orchard in its entirety
And the beautiful crop that lies ahead of me.

ONE DAY
No! DAY ONE.

by: SAM

HOME SWEET SEA ISLE


Rocking gently on white wicker
Worry-free on the porch of my pretty blue bungalow,
Facing north, toward Great Egg Harbor and Ocean City,
With the Atlantic's roar in my right ear
And Ludlum Bay's gentle lap in my left,
Memories of every sort course through me,
A swirling nor'easter or a roiling hurricane.

I recall days long past in this magical place by the sea
Weekends 100 miles from parents and professors
Deep bronze suntans, too soon to be regretted
Pillow fights in ratty rented rooms
Sandwiches buttered up for muscled-up lifeguards
Frankie Avalon yet undiscovered
Chubby Checker twisting
Lingo largely limited to "cool" "sharp" and "copacetic"
Our style the very best of Main Line preppy.

Today, reminding myself these are the good old days,
I smile, because my kinfolk, each and every one,
Have, over the weeks, dropped by
For a gin and tonic, a cold Schmidts, a warm Guinness,
Crabcakes. Cheesesteaks. Tastykakes.
Soft pretzels with mustard. Hoagies.
A dip in the sea and a sit on the sand
A stroll along the sun-baked boardwalk
A walk to the pub, where Irish music speaks to our roots.

Quirky, but endlessly endearing, I love
That the waitress calls me "hon"
And the maitre d' calls me "sweetheart"
In that unique, unlovely Philly accent
Kindled, according to local lore,
By the confluence of the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers
I am definitely home
Where it still feels cool to be a hon and a sweetheart.

by: Gigi