Siren’s Song by Wendy Flora

I sit among my rocks, waiting for the men to pass by.
The large rock by the door is scarred with my
Marks, a record of those I watched die
While my song rose to fill the sky.


I pass by that rock every day, and I see
Only how many more marks there must be
Before my time is done, and I may leave
This rocky tower for the blue blue sea

I often wonder if these men ever, ever know
As their ship is dashed on the rocks below
That I do not hate them. Nay, I love them so . . .
These men who come, and yet too quickly go.

For it is lonely here day after passing day
Watching my only joy slip away
Beneath the waves as I turn to lay
My hand upon that rock so I do not sway

And turn to save the drowning men that I-
With my beauty which so pleased their eye
And the voice that lured them to my side-
Have broken and condemned to die.

Wendy Flora


As The Ruin Falls by Clive Staples Lewis

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.


Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

by Clive Staples Lewis

The Willow by John Blashex

Standing gracefully on its strong base,
Swaying along the river bed,
Talking to the rushing water,
The water in which it is wed,


They stand side by side
As the wind rushes by,
His branches reaching down to touch his wife,
Their love is enough to make you cry.

But the water keeps on rushing by,
And now wants to move on,
Leaving the old willow behind,
Wishing that he had died.

So the willow weeps,
Every night and every day,
But the river does not care,
And simply moves on its way.

Now the willow has grown old,
Its branches hanging down,
But it weeps no more,
For in its place has grown a small town.

John Blashex

Poem: Message In A Bottle by Rima Darkstar

To you (because you found it):
I am lost on a desert island.
Long captivated has its beauty held me,
But it does not make up for being lonely.
I’m begging you, please rescue me;
Else I may lose my sanity.
Creeping insanity, I fear it may come
Before my rescue… Wait, I hear a steel drum!


Could it be that my salvation’s at hand
By the lonely wand’ring of a cruise liner’s band?
Could it be that I WILL see my friends again?
I would be joyous to leave this land
Behind me. Oh, sweet joy, a ship in sight!
It is on the horizon, and by the sun’s light
It may find me yet! Oh, it is the broad light of day!
Bright light, high sun, and, how do you say,
Ah, yes, freedom! But wait. How will they
Be able to find me? The chances are nay…

Yet their ship, yes, their ship, is approaching at speed!
Oh, sweet salvation, how long have I seeked!
And if this day should see them to me,
My self would return to reality.

I can see the passengers now;
Some men, some women. They’re standing at the bow
Of the ship. They’re searching for something.
Could I possibly be that something?
Yes! I am waving, and they are waving back!
It’s true! It is true. I must get ready to pack
All of the things that are here with me;
My only connection to humanity.

But while I’d love to leave this desert isle,
It’s been my home for quite a while.
About a week, if I remember right.
(On the sand I would lay, and I spent the nights
Staring up at the sky, filled with diamond-like stars–
But what am I thinking? I’m going home, away from here, far.)

They’re coming closer now; I guess I should ready
My belongings… O ma gosh, is that my baby???
Yes, it is he!! What sweet, sweet irony
That my rescuer should be my one and only!
The only man I will ever love;
He has searched for and found his wand’ring dove!
And now, now I see, he is calling my name!
He cries out “I love you” and I cry out the same.
And as the ship anchors in the shallow sea,
I run to him; he runs to me
After securing the anchor. I exult in
His warm embrace. I’ll never leave him again!
He picks up my bags while holding my hand…

And sadly I realize this message must end.
So, happily now I’ll seal this message
In a bottle, and send it on its passage.
A miraculous rescue this, I think you’ll agree.
May this message give you hope on the open sea.
And so, as we are going home, I shall drop
This message in a bottle into the ocean, with hope
That my joyous words will comfort you
When you’re on the open sea, lonely and blue.

by Rima Darkstar

To Dorothy by Marvin Bell

You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
You let a weed grow by the mulberry
And a mulberry grow by the house.
So close, in the personal quiet
Of a windy night, it brushes the wall
And sweeps away the day till we sleep.


A child said it, and it seemed true:
“Things that are lost are all equal.”
But it isn’t true. If I lost you,
The air wouldn’t move, nor the tree grow.
Someone would pull the weed, my flower.
The quiet wouldn’t be yours. If I lost you,
I’d have to ask the grass to let me sleep.

Marvin Bell

Poem: Our Love Story by Kyler

I met this beautiful girl a couple years ago
I wanted her I liked her but I didn’t know
If she felt the same way as me
I laid awake every night thinking of everything we could be

I kept thinking of her day after day
Thinking of what all I could say
What all I could do
If only she had knew

How I felt about her
Oh how I wished things between us would occur
I wish I had the courage to talk to her quick
But truthfully I was never too slick

I never had the courage to talk for more than a minute or two
But every time we talked my feelings for her grew
I loved her more than anyone I ever met
But that love kept me up at night upset

With feelings of sadness and regret
That did not tell her yet
That I loved her more than myself
More than money and wealth through sickness and health

My life went by month after month, day after day
Then came the day that I moved away
There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say
As I left my skies quickly started turning gray

Then one day I got a call from you
You said you loved me so much
I couldn’t believe it was true
You said you missed my touch

You missed my sense of humor
And you wished you had told me sooner
You told me you stay up crying day after day
Ever since I went away

You said we could love each other long distance
That I was the fabric of your very existence
Time went by month after month, year after year
Every word you spoke honest and sincere

Our love never faded, only grew stronger
Even as time passed longer and longer
Till the day we finally met again
We talk how were back then and we had been

Not long after that we had wed
Got married looking forward to the life ahead
Both of us together, forever
On this endeavor

Time went by year after year
So happy neither of us shed a tear
We went on till we hit the age of seventy one
After that our time was done


Both of us died in our sleep
Holding on to each other destined to keep
Our love now and in the afterlife
Never did we get upset over any strife

So this the is the story of me and my love
This is our story that I wrote from above

Kyler 2012

Fallen Tear by Shane Downing

Overlooking the shore of time lies a man sent,
On a mere journey to find the heart in nothing,
With his strength and questioning mind spent,
Stopping once to take in hand a bird’s injured wing.


Lost are the graces that make courtiers cry,
Gone from here the memories of soft life,
Vanishing on the crag are passions that die,
And nothing more is left of painful strife.

A tended wing to the creature with weakened faith,
Tidied blood hidden to show all stoic senses,
Amid the expanse of nature yet alone in truth,
Too long has it gone without gentle hands.

A fix and fast as said – It rises up from the dead,
Noting briefly the helper before leaving it’s bed,
Flaps the wings and offers closed eyes,
Flying off in the mist without further good-byes.

The crouched figure turns to view the sea,
Wondering at the red crests of the sky,
Stretching on forever without a cause to be,
Yet solemn in it’s grace as anyone high.

The rocks of the side hold tightly together,
Praying to nothing and all in final glory,
Calling out yet not making a sound in pain,
Seeing light yet unable to enter it now.

His eyes are downcast to the fiery waves,
Light shining from the dwindling sun bright,
Seeking the answer to what he craves,
Thinking – No, knowing, but fears the light.

A look back to the path he’s come silently,
Then again a glance to the ocean below,
A final twist of form and he leaves it be,
Leaving a faint rose cast into the briny sea.

The bird chirps from a nearby hold at the man,
Seeing more than any uncaring human can,
Noting the poor grace of terror so shear,
Missing not the man’s fallen tear.

Shane Downing