It was 1969 the day was 15
I was up in the sky
I was only eighteen
White Lake in the town of Bethel, New York
I saw trees being hugged and loved
I saw no one eating pork
The rhythm, the sense of happiness and being free
I was one with everyone
like it was meant to be
I cried from excitement, tears full of joy
It’s like I relived Christmas
when I was just a boy
I made love with the one I’m with today
I have three beautiful children
And that’s how it’s going to stay
I kept the blanket that kept this family whole
all because of 1969
I rest with the blanket with the hole

After living upstairs for ages
At the graces of the old white hand
That fed you tender morsels
Let you in or out,
Cleaned up the messes
You left under the couch
And the kitchen floor
After you howled at me
In unexplained angst
After running off
To the psychedelic tom
Who abandoned you
In the kennel
After all that
I realized you weren’t ever
To be my lover,
Or even my friend,
Only my cat

Hope was the burning fire
that kept her alive on the dark lonely nights
on a island named depression

Then a gust of Hate
blew her fire out

and when her fire went out
she saw an escape off the island
called suicide

Sweet, sweet is the name I love to hear
Sweeter than all else He is to me
Glorious Father ruler of all
Rejoicing to call on His name alone
Sweet, sweet songs to praise Jesus
Sweet over all the earth
No one brings glory to shine
And to bring hope for a world
In sorrow
Need to know He alone is Lord
So very sweet is the thought of heaven
Where Jesus holds us
In the palm of His hands
He is the wonder, the power
To save us
Triumphant in every way
Sweet, sweet is the name I love
To hear
Because my saviour is always near

                          BY:  Leona  Chaput

You were my rock
But time and feelings have eroded that rock into a pebble -
soon nothing but sand will remain.

I'm damaged,

TABLE DANCING

The family were sat at the table.
Dinner was served.
They picked up their knives,
they were coated with honey.
Picked up their peas,
Flicked them over the trees.
It was alfresco,
And they sat in the sun.
Naturally having bundles of fun.

The wasps invaded the honey clad knives,
Drove the men crazy,
as well as their wives.
Piles of sarnies, gracing the table,
With lettuce, tomatoes, and thin sliced cucumber.
Complete with slices of fresh cream cake.
Thought they'd try dancing,
"Bring on Swan Lake".

They all wriggled and jiggled upon the green grass,
the ballet got boring,
so they changed the beat,
now they're doing the rumba instead.
It wasn't the dance they hoped it would be.
So it turned into romance under the tree.

They sent the youngsters off to the shop,
so the time was theirs to bunny hop.
(c)Livvi

Dear ****,

       ******* and your devilish traps
thanks for making my good days go to crap
thanks for separating me from my mother,
for making me look like a **** up to my brother
thanks for the addiction I have to face
you really did take me to another place
thanks for making me into the person I am
at least you never made me slam
thanks for making me stay up for a week or two
you showed me that I got nothing to lose
thanks for putting shadows in front of my eyes
but if it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t have realized my lies
I now put a gat in the side of my lap
cause I can’t even sleep or even take a nap
I’m always moving around , where ever it is you take me
bringing me to my dealers house making me beg on my knees
even if it’s just leftover’s, crumpled up in aluminum foil
Now I pick my arms because I think it begins to boil
I’m known as the black sheep in my family
you made my life a ****** up tragedy
The scars you caused aren’t only visible but mental
Thank god I stopped before I melted my dentals
There’s still a voice in my head telling me not to leave you
but I want to start my actual life, I want to be someone new
I thank you for the **** caused, for the mistakes you made me do
But I’m leaving you now, one last thing, *******.

first--

my big brother came through the door, hoodie up,

L close behind--
a farm girl,
small features
warm eyes
Bean boots and rough hands,

i could smell the cigarettes and the new cash in his pocket.

he showed me the pipe he'd fashioned out of driftwood

the one thick silver band on his left pointer finger glinting warmth from the dining room light

and in a drunken haze i wondered if there was anything in the world he couldn't do.

second--

she set the canvas bag on the counter,
and out came heirloom apples,
and mittens
and fresh honeycomb in an old plastic container,
label worn and peeling from all the hours it had traveled, and i thought suddenly and strangely
of all the times it'd been placed in bags as an afterthought, left in the backseat of a golden texas-plated '95 corolla
                                                *(an alien up here)
warming between biodegradable soaps and pottery filled with sprouting seeds,
how many raindrops it had shed sitting on the front steps of an old clapboard house.