Can Borders be Bankrupt?
Can Borders be bankrupt?
Has the world gone quite mad?
Will publishers follow?
How incredibly sad.
No more childhood thrills –
The smell of new books,
The crack of the spine,
Colored plates, happy looks.
No lands to explore
With the turn of a page.
No words working magic,
Sharing joy, soothing rage.
Will newspapers fold
And libraries go dark?
Shall we curl up with Kindle,
Try to conjure the spark?
Old friends, read again,
Become part of the whole.
But a life without books
Is a life without soul.
R. June Thornton
February 16, 2011
FOR THE MOMENT
For the moment, you and I,
Let’s meander under the sky.
Rouse me from bed. I’ll follow
thru the parks with lovely scents.
Call me at the break of day,
Salute the pink of dawn,
Holler about blessed events,
Don’t wait until tomorrow.
Urge me out of my comfortable chair
Create just one more song.
We’ll wander to the country fairs,
When the nights are crystal clear,
Lie beneath the Milky Way
View constellations’ on a mission.
Coax me to venture and play,
For this journey is pleasant,
Infused with life’s passion,
And pleasant can soon be gone.
Judith Kent Prenovost
IN THE STONE GARDEN
The stone garden stands mute
Peaceful beneath stately evergreens
Flags line the ascending drive
Given by families of the fallen
To be flown for this special day
We remember those who gave all
“The last full measure,” wrote the poet
Willing to lay down their lives
To support the freedom we all enjoy
The ultimate price to pay
I take my decorations to the monuments
So many of my family interred here
Parents, grandparents, teenaged aunt
Victim of the awful epidemic
I gaze skyward, my mind astray
Walking here reminds me
What a magnet our land has been
Names on the headstones
Slavic, Scandinavian, Asiatic
America promised them a new day
Here and there a special message
Honoring a loved one gone too soon
One can’t imagine a parent’s grief
Having been spared that pain
In humble thanks I pray
This place delivers calming solace
A quiet place amid a hectic world
Departing I pensively reflect
The stone garden solemnly invites,
“Come again another day”
Bob McKean
