August ‘95 Volume 1.2
ILLUSION -a poetry newsletter
Word Poem -by Edwin K Bell
Down on the beach near my old island home is a huge weather worn rock.The people from thereabouts call it the “Frog”. The Frog earned its namebecause crouching on the reef it looks just like a frog. The sea comesup and slowly covers the reef until only the white sandstone of the Frogis left above the water. High tide is usually in the evening during thesummer time and the summer sun sets with its last rays lighting up theFrog. Because the rock receives the sunlight from the earliest morningto the latest evening, this spot is a favorite for summer sun-bathers.Often they lay stretched out on the back of the Frog, soaking up the sunon the old beach blankets which separate their warm bodies from the roughtexture of the rock. As the tide rises through the summer afternoon theylay there until the water begins to lap around the base of the Frog. Then,reluctantly but quickly they grab up their beach blankets, spring downonto the reef, and jumping from high point to high point, dash for thedry beach. Often the tide will catch them unawares and they will be soakedby the northern waters before they can scramble to the dry shore. Fromthe shadowed curve of the beach the old rock is sunlit and all around thequiet summer water has covered the reef and left only the Frog, sitting,like a frog on a lily pad in a pond. After summer has gone and autumn passedinto winter, the Frog becomes the resting place for many birds. Black cormorantsand seagulls rest there throughout the day, leaving the rough back of thehuge Frog covered with their droppings. Hugh waves from winter storms crashon the reef and swirl about the Frog, but the old rock waits patientlyfor the people and warmth of the coming summer.
by Edwin K Bell
Edwin K Bell
Distant star.
So hot and bright.
But sun so distant
That there is only a Cold, silent, heavenly twinkle.
Roaring tremendous gases.
Bursting flame.
Holocaust.
Flinging,flashing,burning,inferno
Abroad.
Yet but a twinkle,
Light little star,
So distant, far.
Nellie McKlung
Les Enfants Miserables
with little bloated stomachs
newspapers & tin sheets for
homes
in rags eating out of garbage pails
(a lucky day)
the little ones
one with one
I cry out:
I am coming!
I see your pain
I am coming!
I share your suffering
Correct me if I’m wrong
South America, Mexico,
Africa, Asia
some 17 million die each year
one third of the worlds children
do not reach the age of 10
They do not ask
to be born.
Ron Padgett
Running off at the mouth.
He’s on the run (escaping law)
He’s got the runs (his bum is raw)
She’s got a run (her sox unweave)
She’s got a run (she has to leave)
They’re on a run (a lucky streak) Their noses run (a nasal leak)
I run the show (I am the boss)
I’m running scared (I’m at a loss)
A run on sentence (English bad)
A run on books (sold all they had)
Run over (would you please repeat?)
Run over (squashed flat in the street) Run down (to slander,deprecate)
Run down (you’re in a weakened state) The colors run (your shortsare pink and green)
run ragged (cannot think)
You’ve run the gauntlet (something tough)
Which way to run (you’ve had enough)
Don’t run away (leave home)
why not Just run around (have sex a lot)
When problems run you (take their toll)
Run with the ball (be in control) I
’ve run the course (I’ll end here)
please I’ve finished (run out of ideas).
Chris Lablanc
The table was only
sitting
still
under beams
of dusty
orange sunlight.
Anita Stevens
There’s something to be said
for a poem when it takes
a lifetime to write
& six seconds to be read .
Bill McKay
Oct 8, 1989 Walking in the woods It’s a beautiful sunny day and I hearfrogs, planes and human distant voices. When it is really quiet you canhear the leaves falling. A father with his two children ride past me onthe wind trail. I sense he is a warm & affectionate father. There’ssilence again , an aroma of crisp clean air natures way of showing herlove, & solitude to the happy wanderer. The beat of a different drummerapproaches me on his bicycle. He is in his own little world with no timefor his fellow man, or even the sounds of nature around him. all he hearsis the thumping of his heart beat in time with his bicycle gears. The strangerrides off, I pobably will never have that encounter again in this life.With the moment to myself, I enjoy nature to its fullest. Listening, watchingthe sun peek through the trees & down upon a spider, who appears tobe sleeping in his web. I clos my eyes & remember when I was a child.It seemed that the days were long, no responsibility, and fun with lotsof good times.