Poems and Poetry
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And Then | A Poem by J. K. Durick

We fall through the cracks,
disappear; invisible folks,
our story becomes so thin
it slides between the pages
of the book they’re writing,
marginal at best, fading away
drifting, jetsam afloat, adrift,
some derelict debris, down,
forgotten, so forgettable,
and then we blur, we become
background, some shadows,
we’re easy enough to forget,
we recede, weaken, dwindle,
we wilt, wither, shrivel away,
fail expectations, diminishing
returns, get to play out, pay out,
live this quietly, out of their way,
and then, and then, finally, we…

Grades, Keeping 2-S | A Poem by J. K. Durick

I remember when grades were posted
on the wall outside the dean’s office

sometimes typed up, others filled in ink
a bit hard to read, always hard to take

just a letter up by our initials or number
alphabetical order was easy to figure out

we knew how we all did, comparison was
built into it, an easy way to measure us

nothing inflated, nothing debated, roll of
the dice, had to roll with the punches

too often we’d limp away, some shaken, in
the late sixties, we still had ‘Nam going on

grades kept us safe or shook us lose, kept us
around, watching a war, fighting off boredom

grades waited outside the dean’s office, land mines
firefights, we learned the words, fearing our turn.

At Sadie’s Soul Food Grill | A Poem by Donal Mahoney

Otis was once a monk
who took no vows, was
free to leave the abbey
and eventually he did.
I met him over chicken wings
at Sadie’s Soul Food Grill.

For almost 20 years
every spring and summer
Otis labored in the fields
raising vegetables
and crops of every kind.

In fall and winter he
would gather leaves and
plow the snow, wheel
ancient monks up and down
the endless silent halls.
He loved his work
because he liked to help
anyone in need.

I asked Otis why he left.
He said because at first
he thought life was a burp
somewhere in eternity.
He still believes that but
wants to hear the burp
before he’s in eternity.

Otis likes the chicken wings
at Sadie’s Soul Food Grill,
especially the real hot ones.
He ate chicken at the abbey
but nothing like the wings
at Sadie’s Soul Food Grill.
A real treat before eternity.

Visit Donal at http://eyeonlifemag.com/the-poetry-locksmith/donal-mahoney-poet.html#sthash.OSYzpgmQ.dpbs=.

The Forgotten Gallery | A Poem by Leah Short

Unbearable gallery projects us all.
Our desires to be seen, and soon, folds.
I need no direction.
Told that everything means nothing,
propels us to be alone.
Shut into shutter speed.
Lock ourselves away behind lock screens.
But tell our tales to everyone. Silently.

We let all pride slip away.
For the need to be known.
To make it into the forgotten gallery.

Visit Leah at http://leahshort.wordpress.com.