Poets Forum

CROSSING THE LINE

Back in the days when housewives made their soap And picked their feather pillows off a goose

A woman simply had no time to mope

Or very little chance of cutting loose.

She milked the cows and slopped the hogs and then Ran back and forth to stoke the wash pot fire

Marked sixteen eggs to set a cranky hen

And shot whatever trespassed chicken wire.

She thought she had a tailhold on the game

Used all her woman wiles to woo and win

A man to put a Mrs. before her name

When lades practiced charm and men were men.

Female witchery I know about

But tangle with a goose?

Just count me out.

— Faye Boyette Wise

Benton

THE KITES OF MARCH

When I was young I used to send

My kites to climb into the wind

Years passed. I put my kites away

From flying fields and raw March days.

Today I watched my two sons fly

Their kites across a windswept sky.

In each fresh year the world courts Spring with younger boys, new kites and string.

— Howard Nobles

Deceased

SENYRU

family Bible on the coffee table dust

— Dennis Patton Alexander

LITTLE JOE

It was so very cold as the old man and little dog trudged wearily down an old sidewalk.

They came upon a shelter to get a little warmth, but the man said he was sorry but no pets were allowed, you will have to go on.

Walking slowly, he told Little Joe that he was sorry that it was so cold. Sadly petting the little dog, he knew there was no place to stay.

He had an old blanket to share with his friend and he held it to his face to catch his tears.

He stopped a moment to pray. They came to a place out of the wind and he told Little Joe they would stop for a while.

He covered them as best he could and closed his eyes in the dark night.

Morning came and they found them, two friends together, not to be parted.

They had gone home to a place where they would never be alone or cold again. A place sunny and bright.

— Ann Mcmahan Benton

ONE FLEETING MOMENT

A butterfly touched down on my shoulder, today, for one fleeting moment... then, it fluttered away.

I’m a blaze of glory, with style and grace – for one fleeting moment I caught a glimpse of God’s face!

— Mike Pafundi Deceased

HAIKU

wren singing from the wooden fence winter’s sun

—Pat Laster Benton

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To submit poems for publication, please send poems of 16 or fewer lines to Dennis Patton, 2512 Springhill Circle, Alexander, AR 72002, or patton_dr@hotmail.com.