Trees – by Mary Getlein
Elegy for an Immortal – by Kike Wind
She – by Ronald K. Mc Kinley
World of Gray – by Jim Smith
Emptied Cup – by Arist Niciforos
Simply Passing – by Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
Sunday, February 3 – by Roger Houston
HEY! Where’s The Sidewalk Cafe??? – by Tina Catalina Corcoran
Hurricane Carla As A Bedtime Story – by Paul Beethoven
the kids are running around in the dark
it’s cold and I sit huddled on the bench
people are playing baseball at the far end of the park
the trees without leaves are silhouetted in the light
their beautiful branches are outlined in the dusk
the light shines on them and reveals their fluid shapes
the shape of a tree branch resembles water
moving up the tree, coming out in the branches to the leaves
so much beauty all around us
we take for granted, thinking it will always be here
i hope so
i hope our children and future children
have trees to climb, to embrace,
to rest under and look up at
trees that grow so tall and look down at us
and we, with our machines, can cut them down forever
what are we teaching our children
that a tree can teach us, more powerfully,
without words
trees are free, they grow and grow and crack
cement that was put on their roots
the roots rise up and crack them
trees were here first and hopefully forever
they will stand, watching and loving forgetful humans
– Mary Getlein
Elegy for an Immortal
More constant than a lover
More thoughtful than a second thought
Much smarter than a whip
Dear gentle sparkle of kindness
My Brother of Nature
You Nurture all that is good
O Vessel of Light
You go to the Root
(You Natty Root)
You Soul for Miles
And bop with the best of ‘em
Never ceasing to amaze
A living demonstration of
Love and Grace
I am brought to my knees
Where I remain
Head bowed, my life a secular prayer
You color my world with Love
And show me the way to go home
I’ll see you there
And in my Dreams
Forever Love
By Nike Wind
by Ronald K. Mc Kinley
She matter biased toward energy
A gesture of aroma
A cogent tune of femininity evolving to nurture
Ability more than force
Vitality of earth bound universe
Closed and complete
Sated by the Sun but potent
Artful in deed but only sometimes saying
Half of me but far from less
Passion and purpose
Harmonious movement
Luminous pulled by instinct
Grandmother, Mother, Aunt, Sister, Girlfriend, Wife, Daughter
World of Gray
(Dedicated to the women artists of Venice)
Trapped in a world of gray
she took out her brush
and painted her way
to freedom.
– Jim Smith
Emptied Cup
I’ve fallen into slavery
back into the madness
I got the feeling of maybe
Eyes pooling drips of sadness
Lost in emotion
elixer of life
I drank the potion
Now I must fight
The bitter taste
fist clench for a hand
Look around…
You’re in love’s wasteland
feeling the wall for a descending rope
looking up for a glimpse of hope
not to hang
to end the pain
one to grip
to be pulled from the trench
I kiss your lips
endure the heart’s wrench
Eyes I cannot read
for I am just a pendant or a bead
floating on a chain above your chest,
along with all the rest
around your neck
standing on edge of a wooden ship’s deck
through the waters
I see the wreck
of a thousand men who sailed a love’s notion
to find what’s true in your heart’s ocean
a fool I’d be
to swim in your sea
below teeth await
in a school for me
delirious from the motion
on the deck the cup lies empty
I gladly drank the potion
and fell to love’s slavery
Inspired by Love’s Eternal Angel
Arist Niciforos
Simply Passing
My roots are
my feet
and my country is
my brain.
In the world
of my nucleic acids,
there are
no borders
that need an army;
no wars
that need a flag;
no dead
that need an anthem;
no gods
that need a tithe.
I’m simply passing
like a shooting star,
destined to disintegrate
into galactic dust
to revive again,
like a New Moon.
—Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
Los Angeles, 14 October 1990
22:52 Sunday, February 3rd, 2013, Adullam ….. Embraced by a galactic spiral arm, Among the local group, as they perform An endless diaspora, outward bound. Uncharted regions, emptiness to blend  With nebulous infinities, en masse. On starry, starry nights we watch them pass. They fill our telescopes with fading light. They bathe our retinae, our dimming sight. Aim our array ambitiously, we guess At radio and infra red. We press the boundaries of time, as we pretend To comprehend and measure, to the end. Expanding ever distantly, to form A universe, receding in alarm ….. A valentine for Greta Cobar, from Roger Houston, metaphysical cavalier.
HEY! Where’s The Sidewalk Cafe???
It was – A Day – Like Today,
In Thee, Early Morn’
Walking Down
The Main Street
In Town…
(Chorus) “Hey! Where’s The Sidewalk Cafe!”
(I’m On My Way ! )
“I’ll Take You There …”
Well, I – Took His Tremblin’ Hand –
As I – Stepped Into – His Van…
He was – Looking for –
A Friendly,
Open, Door…
“Hey! …
He said: “Dennis, Is my name –
A BEACHBOY – Is my Fame!” …
(He was cryin’,
He was tryin’,
To Keep from – Dyin’ …)
“Hey! …
OH! I still can, – Hear his Voice:
“Tequila Sunrise!” – Was his Choice –
After, ALL the Songs –
He’d Written –
He felt like – Quittin’ …
“Hey! …
If, I knew then – That “way back when” …
I’d NEVER see – His Face, again …
I could – Have cared More…
MAYBE – Shared More … Even – (Dared More) …
“Hey! …
I NEVER Dreamed – I’d Sing This Song…
I SWEAR It Seems – He Sings Along…
He’s right here, Drinkin’ …
He’s right here, Thinkin’ …
I see Him WINKIN” …
“Hey! Where’s The Sidewalk Cafe?”
(I’m On My Way!)
“I’ll Take You There …”
Tina Catalina Corcoran
Hurricane Carla As A Bedtime Story
The sky, at one point, looked like pink champagne!
Wind? It was about one forty but constant.
Tell us more, Grandpa!
The storm had 113 deathbrides, that were
Small tornadoes spinning in the opposite direction.
Tell us more about Hurricane Carla!!
Wake up and tell us more!
By Paul Beethoven