“The Only Love I Have Ever Known”
By Benjamin Haling
Has been bounded in pages I have come to own
And how cruel it is
The movies that make us cry
The t.v. shows that keep us up all night
The books that fly at the wall
Because their characters cause our hearts to rise and fall
For the while I may live in a magical place
Full of love, loss, tragedy, and hate
And yet it has never felt more like home
I live many lives in the pages so carefully sewn
But in the end all the butterflies fly away or die
I close the cover and credits appear
As I try not to cry
They may not die but their life does not continue
All the lives I have come to love and know
I have said good bye too many times
And I'm not even old
All I can do is fill this emptiness with a new love, a new life, a new story
As I pick up a brand new book
My memories warn me but my heart is hook
* * * * * * * * * *
“Before the Frost”
By Joey Wojtusik
You will not want to hear this,
but I am going to tell you anyway.
A glimmer of crimson weeps into gold.
Tufts of clouds add dimension
to make me believe in the impossible
beauty of such a sky.
Grandchildren arrive in an explosion
of brightness and laughter.
A yellow retriever and white scampering pup
lead through rows of soldiered corn stalks;
adults amble along the crooked path
of poplar and balsam, eyes lifted to splendor,
words singing of other seasons.
The outcry must have startled the crows.
She, a girl of eight, who hears the snap,
sinks first in terror, unable to reach within the wire,
to feel the dove-white fur,
fumbling for its heartbeat–
to sense the stillness
of the only creature small enough to fit,
hers, her companion, her pet.
The penance is rendered to him
for rigging the trap,
culling the ravenous raccoons
but neglecting to remove it in time.
He slumps over the truck bed,
face fused and gnarled into oaken arms,
and weeps harder than any man
I have ever known.
“I have a been a member of LIR but because of health reasons have not been able to carry on lately. I was an English teacher in Merrill for the last 16 years before retirement. Also, I published an anthology of prose and poetry called Simply North: A Collection from the Heart. In addition, I have published short stories and poetry. Together with five other members, I belong to a writers group, which helps nurture our craft. This poem is a sad one, but it is based on a true occurrence.”
