June 2006 Submissions

She paced in front of the elevator, blonde hair and cape flowing behind her, boots clicking on the tile flooring. “Sheesh!” she fumed and stormed away. “Time is precious, people!”

Ding! She turned quickly and ran back to the elevator, slipping in as the doors were closing. “Thanks,” she breathed to the brown-haired kid standing by the controls. “Three please.”

“Huh?” She looked down at her getup. “Oh. Right. I’m Batgirl and you are?”

Sheesh. The things a girl’s gotta do to save the world these days, she complained silently as he pressed himself against her. “Let’s have it, then.”

His grin widened and he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’ve always had a thing for a girl in a cape.” He reached his hand around and grabbed her butt. “Especially blonde girls.”

“Whoops! I think this is my floor!” Batgirl raced through the doors, off to save the world, one floor at a time.

Wondering lost
A forgotten place, known only in a dream I face
A whispered promise its forgotten name,
images rarely keeping me sane.
A fleeting touch of someone close,
so briefly haunting, troubled ghost
to go along with a frightening past,
stealing away the light of my path
Traveling now, not by myself
decision more difficult, not only for myself
but a tiny life, not even born.
Will I do right, make the right choice?
So many questions, noone to guide, I travel alone, shattered pride.
Never did I dream I'd do this alone, no more security or comforts of
home.
She will be my savior, my saving grace. I raise her right with pleading
faith.
I'll stumble alone, along this broken road, until she's welcomed home
The first time, I hold her tight, I'll forget this hateful fight
I'll only know, that her life is mine, and because of tiny fingers and
little toes, everything will be just fine.

The bizarre fathers day gift

Upon a dusty mantel piece

Lay a glittery thin box

Not thin as in- cheap thin

But it was elegant like a fox

Many a father would be deceived

By the beauty of the gift

But good old 40 year old walker

He knew something was adrift

Knowing his lovely daughters

(Thereâ€™s sarcasm in the third word)

Tom was prepared for something rather strange

Like last yearâ€™s dead bird

But of course the fathers hesitance

Had been brought upon himself

He knew theyâ€™d make him pay the price

And the price was on that shelf

Finally he worked up the courage

To unfold the wrapping paper

He was ready now to come face to face

With his nine year olds latest caper

The first thing the old man saw

Was the rim of a black wheel

But once the parcel was completely out

He understood the deal

Now lying on the mantel piece

When almost one decade has past

Is a dog sized little skateboard

And forever it shall last

Jennifer Annie

Two different points of view

Footsteps echoed in the darkness.. he was really walking away. Part of Gary wanted to turn round and beg him to forget that tonight had ever happened. Instead Gary kept his on pace walking in the opposite direction. If he had to hold on to anything in the world it would be his pride- he wouldn't be the one that begged. No matter what happened he would not be the one who let the other see him distressed.. if that happened.

Further up on the opposite end of the street a tall man signaled for a black cab. Nick gazed down the street through the rain and frowned as he lost sight of Gary

Soon he realized he couldn't hear anymore footsteps echoing in the darkness.. he had really walked away.. he wanted to turn round and run after Gary, to beg him to forget it had ever happened but he had his pride.

With a sad sigh Nick took down his umbrella and climbed into the black cab. This had been their final farewell.

one tiny little present
left beneath the tree..
in shining bright blue paper,
could this one be for me?

it's been left for last,
because it was so small..
but i can just imagine....
its the greatest of them all!

i slowly peel the paper,
anticipation beyond compare...
cause i know there's nothing greater...
then what will be in there!

as i lift the lid
a pause, so i can breathe,
oh look a marshmallow snowman,
my child made for me!

oh how great it feels,
to receive a gift so grand.
a priceless little treasure,
made by tiny hands.

poetry whispers
the hearts hidden thoughts..
in creative expressions...of emotions, thought lost
feelings arise....from the depths of our souls
whispers of anguish,...of the tales left untold
winds sweeping change...through barren plains laid to waste
by words left unspoken... or spoken in haste
the language of man,...in its coarseness has lost
words holding meaning....of passion and thought
the poet arises....often unheard
lost in hustle....of quick spoken words...
slowly he takes....command of the stage
the poet speaks wisely....the voice of the sage
words have new meaning...as a pictures' invoked
lost in his words,...filled by his hope
his passion
his essence, the words pour from his heart
as the poet stands quiet.....and the stage fades to dark.........

WHO are you???...
i am the spark ..that lites the flame
i am the spark...wild and untamed
i am the spark. of passions and art
creative expressions.. unleashed from the heart
paying no mind to societies graces
starting hope's fires in heartfelt places
i am the spark...unbridled and true
now you tell me....just WHO are you?

I saw a movie the other night, ?The Family Stone?. I enjoyed it. It
was both comedic and dramatic. It got me to thinking. In the movie,
one of the sons is bringing his girlfriend home to meet his family.
It is Christmas and the entire family, who by their own admission is
non-traditional and irreverent, will be there to meet her. They have
a lot of preconceived ideas about her and they pretty much decide
ahead of time that they don't like her. It makes for a very
interesting fiasco as the stuffy girlfriend comes face to face with
this family.

I got to thinking about when I first met my in-laws. First of all, my
then husband chose not to take me home to meet his parents until AFTER
we married. We went off to Carson City in Nevada one weekend and got
married. It didn't let me invite anyone, not even my mother. He said
he was marrying me, not my mother or my family. So, as you can
imagine, this caused a lot of problems between my mother and me. I
was the daughter she thought would have a big wedding. None of us
did. So it was a disappointment. I felt bad, too. I should have
stood up to him and told him I had to have a few people from my
family, or at least my mother. And when you marry someone, you do,
pretty much, marry their family, too. Everyone comes with that excess
family baggage.

After we were married, about three weeks later, he took me to meet his
parents. It was a long drive, several hours. When we got near there,
we stopped at his grandmother's house to rest a bit before crossing
the border to his parents? house. Nonny, his grandmother, was ill and
bedridden. We got there and he went in to see her in her room and to
tell her that we were there. I stayed in the living room. Nonny got
out of bed and came to meet me in the living room. She took my
nervousness away. She was the nicest and sweetest person I could
imagine. She complimented me and began to talk to me about me. She
showed an interest and carried on a wonderful conversation, making me
feel wanted and welcomed. When we left there to go across the border
to his parents? house, I was prepared to meet the rest of them.
Actually, I already knew his older sister because she lived in Los

Angeles where we were living. And I had met his younger sister at
Stanford where we were both students. So I had already passed the
test with the two sisters and the grandmother so I was prepared.

We walked in and his mother came and hugged me and welcomed me to the
family. We talked for a bit and she fed us a snack. Then a bit later
his father arrived and he welcomed me, too. He was a very quiet man
so we didn't speak much but he did make me feel accepted and welcomed.
That left two more people to meet. There was a younger brother and a
younger sister. If I recall correctly, his brother was out of town
and I did not meet him on that trip. However, his little sister was
around. We went to pick her up at the end of a play or something like
that. I remember that she was very quiet and as we drove back home,
she kept trying to get a look at me sideways in the back seat of the
car. She was just a teenager, about fourteen or so. She was nice,
sweet, funny, and she liked me.

The weekend flew by quickly and as we drove back to where we lived in
Santa Monica, I was quite relieved that I had passed the test of the
in-laws! They were/are all very interesting. Later they all pretty
much had more than one occasion in which they made me feel
uncomfortable and unsuitable to be in their family, but all in all, it
was my family too. I liked them. We all participated in the ?family
cut? in which someone would pick on one member and everyone would join
in and pick on them. It was mean. But we all knew that in the end,
we were family and we would hang together.

The divorce changed all that. But while it lasted, I was accepted
into his family. I was made to feel welcomed and a part of them.

Standing forlorn along the edge of a cliff
I feel the dark winds caress my flesh.

The whispers from down below call to me
A silken web begs me to open eyes and see

My hands clasp tightly in front of my breast
As the magic jewel on my flesh does rest

I stand alone, my shattered chalice awaits
for the one black jewel to be my only mate.

~willow~

Beggar On the Street

Sitting upon the curb,

maybe in front of

a liquor store,

or a freeway off ramp.

A sign held up,

asking for whatever

we can give.

(anything will help)

But do we really see,

do we see the person

so destitute , that

they beg?

Do we see the shame,

and look away.

But who's shame is it.

In this world of judgment.

Ours I believe.

People who will not look,

people like me,

who look away,

and think they're

time would be better spent

looking for work.

Instead of digging

the change out of

my pocket, I take

it upon myself to

judge, the living.

The Shame is mine,

who but God knows.

What each face

unseen by my eyes,

has gone though,

has brought them to,

this point where

they beg.

What has brought me

to this point,

to think I am

higher then the

beggar on the street,

At what time

in this life

did I forget.

That we all have a heart

of the same color.

Brandy

6.06