SWEET INSPIRATION by Ellen Wanjiru
RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN
RUN TO THE TOP OF YOUR PLAN
BEGIN LIKE YOU OWN A GRAND
YOUR MULE AND TEN ACRES OF LAND
CREATE YOUR TERMS AND DEMANDS
EVEN WHEN LIFE BEATS DOWN YOUR BRAND
FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT
THE RIGHT TO BUILD A SOLID STAND
WITH BIBLES AND TEARS
OUR HANDS WE RAISE
FOLLOW THE LIGHT AND SING ITS PRAISE
OLD WAR STORIESby Robert Warren
OLD WAR STORIES OF TIMES GONE BY
THE STRUGGLES OF MEN WHO DO IN LIFE WHAT MAKES MEN DIE
OH HOW THE CHILDREN WEEP AND THE NEW WIDOWS CRY.
ALL FOR THEIR INDEPENDENCE, HOW MEN LIE.
WHO HUNGER FOR MOONLIGHT WAR GAMES OF SEEK AND HIDE,
BUT WHAT WILL THE DAYLIGHT FIND.
FRESH TROOPS AFOOT MARCHING IN LINES
MAN IN A HURRY TRYING TO FIND
THE DEAD OF THE MOON LIGHT WAR GAMES.
THE JONES FAMILY WAS COLLATERAL DAMAGE,
NOT MUCH LEFT TO FIND.
NO GLORY OR HERO IN THESE STORIES
OLD AS WAR ITSELF
LOST IN TIME.
FOR ALL SOLDIERS WILL HAVE THEIR TIME TO DIE
BROUGHT BACK IN STORIES TO BE TOLD OF DAYS OF WAR GONE BY.
MEN CHECK MEN FOR SILVER, NO GOLD
THE SADDEST STORY OF ALL IS THE STORY OF A SOLDIER
WHO LIVED TO GROW OLD
TOO OLD TO REMEMBER DAYS WITHOUT WAR
HIS LIFE IS JUST STORIES OF WAR TO BE TOLD
CONFORM COMMITTEE by Paul Lee Taylor
I LIKE BEING ME
BECAUSE MY REACTIONS TO OTHERS
ARE ALWAYS SUPRISING
CONFORMITY ON WHATEVER LEVEL MAKES ME SAD
BECAUSE THERE IS NO GUESS WORK SO FAR AS MY OPINIONS
I AM TOLD WHAT TO LIKE AND WHAT NOT TO LIKE
AND THAT SITUATION SCARES ME
I HAVE BECOME USED TO DECIDING FOR MYSELF
ROSSLYN SUMMER by Jim Jordan
BEYOND ROSSLYN AND A TWENTY-SPOT
THE OTHER SIDE OF KEY BRIDGE LAST NIGHT
GEORGETOWN SANG ITS SAME OLD SUMMER SONG. EYE-LEVEL
WITH THE LONG AND THE TALL, THE SHORT AND THE SAUSAGE,
DOGS OF ALL DESCRIPTION, THREE WHITE, A TAN AND
A BLACK. ON ITS BROKEN LYRE, HOWEVER, GEORGETOWN
SANG ITS SAME OLD SONG. ON THIS BROKEN LYRE I
PLUCK, ROSSLYN SUMMER, HEAT RISING AS IT HAS
ALWAYS RISEN. WILLIAM MILORD TONER, ROMANTIC
AS ROMANTIC GOT, KNEW GREEN LAWNS LIKE THOSE
BEYOND THE BRIDGE WHERE CROQUET WAS HATCHED, TENNIS
BALLS WERE STRUCK IN THE REIGN OF HENRY, POLO
PERSISTS ON HORSES BRED FOR NO OTHER PURPOSE.
I DREAM OF LORCA, THE CATSKILLS, ACQUEDUCTS THERE
BEARING WATER TO THE GOOD ROMANS OF NEW YORK.
ON THIS SOUTH BANK OF IDLESS ROSSLYN I SUPPOSE
REMEMBERS, REMEMBERS ITS LOST CAUSES, RECALLS
ITS RAINBOWS, COMPOSES WHAT MELODIES IT MAY KNOW
ON STRINGS STILL YET UNSIGHING LIKE THESE SUMMER BREEZES.
INNER KINGDOM by Robert Henry
THERE IS A KINGDOM THAT LIVES INSIDE MY MIND –
A SHRINE BUILT FOR EVERY HOPE AND EVERY DREAMFOR ALL TIMES,
AND INSIDE THIS PALACE POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS
CO-EXIST WITHIN THE SAME SPACE.
(SORRY PLATO, THERE ARE POETS IN MY PERFECT REPUBLIC).
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PUBLIC; WE ARE ALL BROTHERS, FATHERS, SISTERS AND MOTHERS.
MY KINGDOM IS AN OPEN FIELD
AS THE MIND ITSELF EXISTS
AND AS ADAM
I WILL NAME EACH CREATURE,
BUT INSTEAD OF NAMING ACCORDING
TO THEIR FEATURES,
I WILL NAME EVERY THING I SEE “HAPPINESS.”
IN THIS LAND SPIRITS WILL FLY HIGH AS DOVES
AND EVERY ONE OF US SHALL BE RULED BY LOVE.
