Free Verse

The days careen by
In stark white mornings
blurred, botched, bungled
by the chocolate-smeared fingers
of my hungry, hyperactive dreams.
I would sleep through the whole fiasco
of morning, noon and night;
of here, there and nowhere;
of wilting leaves, skin and dreams
except for the glittery, pure gold bugle
pressed to the lips of my lover.
He liltingly bends over the stove,
over his little Italian expresso pot, gurgling, sighing.
The cracks in the wall come creeping down
to tickle me awake, the cold air
slaps at my face, then in comes
Curiousity.
Now, curiosity is a sad seedling, sprouting
in the hunched ground between cement slabs
with a green gauze dress and a teeny, tiny laugh.
That laugh climbs buildings, climbs air,
climbs into my lungs and makes me lunge
towards You, Oh Day.
-Betina Hershey, 1/2003

Alone?
A little lilt as taken literally 
may befuddle one as botched as we
for anyone who dares to compound the menagerie
of dreams and lives too far and away
in the clouds to see reality.
I'll tell ye happily what must become
of consciousness to overcome
the dolt of the mind-
THINK FREELY!
Laugh loudly!
Live wisely and yet as the world need
not be peopled.
Waste not time careening from cliff
to boulder bungled cliff
in search of chocolate-covered truths.
Instead, look to the stark, star-studded sky,
and in that infinite space, FLY.
The pressure of excistence, and it's continuance
may seem great, but, dear child,
I tell you-
our service comes in many and varied ways.
So laugh. Play. Rejuvinate.
-Alena Gerst
Sitting alone at the end of his life
pictures of past careen through his mind
Regrets are his plague, all he did botch
family and friends, so much has been lost
the bugle soon sounds, and away he will fly
alone in this world, alone he will die
the fear subsides with the memory of her
the lilt of her voice, his soul does now stir
the sweet taste of chocolate rests on his lips
and he feels the sensation of her delicate lips
for a moment in time all is brand new
youthfulness settles, like the fresh morning dew
with a newness of mind, his reality so stark
maybe all is not lost, maybe life isn't so dark
though his life he did bungle, his vision's now new
Rejuvenation he finds, in a memory so true................
C. Bellinger 2003

Also from C.B.:
Black thoughts rising, against my wall of hope
Their presence is inviting, no longer can i cope
They envelope all my being, surround my weary soul
I feel the power building, I'll pay the final toll
I struggle to resist It, grasping at a dream
I fight against the anger, and all of the unclean
from where I stand its finished, my battle near complete
I fought against the evil, now death I finally meet..........
Chuck Bellinger (C) 2002

Haiku subject: waiting for rehearsal

tight, lithe legs stretching
in she runs to join the throng
greasy salad spills
-BH

Steady sword fights staged
laughter recurring again
rehearsal take 12
-AG

here we are waiting
tired, bored, unenthused
first act- wait, second act- wait
Lauren

Sonnet subject: walking on water. words: snow, crackle, giocentric, power, slip, flip-flop, sinking, sublimation

morning drew a line towards frozen lands
I set out with a fresh and eager gait
swinging giocentric map between my hands
hoping to arrive at noon before your gate

the crackle of an icy mountain top
echos, echos, echos in my passage
so my brittle hopes, dark fears all flip-flop
up and down the cliffs of ice that rampage

anon the lake before me, made of ice
while silet snow did fill my previous steps,
appeared and with it's sturdy face enticed
me forth to dance towards yonder with no preps

The power filled me up with such a trip
But sublimation caused my sinking slip
-BH

The cats were black who creeped o'er drifts of snow
in sinking, sublimating flakes adrift-
knowing not in which direction to go
the preyfor which they seek to dig and lift
from crackling flames to warmth, they do disrupt
can no one hide from all this cold and dust
which proves upon the surface to corrupt?
In truth all geocentric pow'r lies in trust-
that comfort always comes from within hearts
burried deep inside twixt icy sheets
so soon to melt away to warmer starts,
so look now further down the frigid streets.
Elsewhere black cats flip-flop towards the sun
and towards the central trusting dunes they run.
-AG

Charm the turtles in the snow
Sublimation transcends the powerful
Feed the sinking of the soul
And hear the crackle of the burning coal

Flip-flop your way through the muck
Truck a load in the deepest swell
That old devil sea in folds does tuck
Away with the dusty stars in hell

Read the writing on the wall
It says you're boring to the core
To play games with fiddles in a song
And spread your legs, you wonton whore

Walking on water can't be done
Especially with these quills that run
-Matt Gough