"HUNGER"

We think they cannot feel,We think their made of steel.

But what we think and what we feel, Cannot make a meal.

If we stop and think a minute, We are actually the ones' who did it.

Hunger is a horrible thing, It does not make me wanna sing.

If we stop and take a look, Maybe we'd begin to cook.

For we are the fortunate ones', We are the ones' who weigh tons.

If we cared a little, We could share a little.

And soon they'd be the lucky ones', And I'd hope they would weigh tons.

By Melissa Warren

"A FRIEND LIKE ME"

When sad or down or at your wit's end,

go chuck a bees nest on a friend.

Be sure to let him know that you're only funnin',

when you kick him in the straddle and take off runnin'.

When your friend comes to visit treat him like a guest,

present him with the gift of an angry hornet's nest.

Put a treat in his car his apolstry now reekin',

some nasty Jack Mackerel in a can that is leakin'.

Go catch an ol' witchdoctor and put it in his canteen,

smack it around first to make it MEAN.

Bake him some brownies when he runs out of fuel,

made from the compost of a nasty old mule.

Shove him down stairs and throw him off roofs,

crack him in the skull with a sack full of hooves.

Make fun of his misery,laugh and teehee,

who needs enemies with friends like me.

By David Jackson

"YOU"

You beat all I've ever seen!

You smack me around, which makes me HIDEOUSLY mean!

You, though give me something to look forward to each day.

You care and love and support, and dedicate yourself in every way.

YOU, I love without doubt or question.

With YOU, I receive love without hesitation,

and from YOU, I see my existence on earth before me,

I will give YOU, all I have to offer please see,

hand in hand with YOU, we'll experience all and remember,

my cool water and warmth YOU, in August and December,

a good punch in the arm YOU, play rough but tender,

from spark to flame to roaring blaze YOU, my heart now a cinder.

By David Jackson For Melissa Warren :o)

Songbird

by

John M. Stencel

I knew a songbird

once -

an acquaintance kept her

in a cage.

He’d found her

wounded and weak

and brought her home

to heal, so he claimed,

but more to own, I thought,

for she was a pretty bird and

his life was in desperate need

of some beauty.

She was happy

for a time

and her song was sweet-

for her wounds were tended and

she lacked neither shelter nor food.

I grew to love the little songbird

as much as her “owner” claimed to.

I took pleasure in her joy and,

when away,

I ached for her song.

But as the days grew longer

my new friend sang less

and less.

She took to pecking at her cage and

her few remaining songs

spoke increasingly of loneliness

and loss.

And with her pain my heart knew

no joy.

My acquaintance bought her,

to show his love,

toys, exotic foods and treats and,

seeing no improvement,

even allowed her out of her cage-

for short periods of time and

only after locking shut the windows and doors.

It was these brief periods of

relative freedom

which allowed her to be again

the songbird I had grown to love.

I remember thinking,

“Maybe now he’ll see-

her song is the freedom of life.”

But alas,

he saw only the pleasure he got from her

and so he kept her for himself

until the day she forgot the freedom and

so gave up her song.

The Dream

by

John M. Stencel

In a dream I saw

a mountain top,

God smiled and bade me,

"Go!

Meet the armies of the world

for no more blood shall flow."

The path unrolled before me,

through rhapsodies of hate. I felt

tomorrow coming and bowed

beneath its weight.

At times I longed to quit for home

(what use for God had I?),

but something seemed to pull me on

to seek,

if not

to die.

'Til the day I stood

in wonder, the mountain lay ahead.

I stumbled to the summit

guided,

pushed

and led.

My eyes beheld

a magic sight -

the armies vast

below.

I spoke to them

of God's decree,

I smiled and bade them,

"Go!"

To the corners of the world

returned they to their lives.

Time had stolen what once had been

husbands,

children,

wives.

Strange faces wore familiar

names, less known than those they'd fought.

God looked at me and

sadly smiled,

"Ironic,

is it not?"

This is my work, so please do not steal anything from this page!!©