Fall became winter so quickly, it's hard to believe.  
Special submissions were included as the season progressed.

Featured poets:  
 Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper (
1, 2, 3, 4, 5),  Paul E Sexton3 (1, 2),  
Baron,  Evelyn Turner,  Roger J. Robicheau,  
Jessica Chipman, Terri Black.  

Roger also shared his excellent Ovation with us!  Congratulations, Roger!  Great news!

by Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

Wind is blowing, leaves are falling,
Chevron of geese look for a pond.
Autumn's gentle breath reminds us
Winter cold's not far beyond.

Crops are ready for the harvest,
Wheat is offered in libation.
Geese are ready to fly south.
Off they go in their formation.

© Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper


Truth is the only thing
We can't hide from ourselves.

Written By:  Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

©  July 31st, 2000

  The Scribe By Ron Baron

I know not whence it came
        exclaiming I write such as this,
I only know it fills my soul
        with wondrous joy and bliss;
Were I to cease proclaiming that
        which comes from deep within,
T'would be supressing that whichGod
        intended, I begin.
Restricting that which now I pen ~
        God's Great Love to impart,
Would soon restrict the flow of love
        and likely burst my heart.
So dauntlessly I shall await,
        His message to proclaim,
Inscribing 'til I pen no more ~
        "The Greatness of His Name!"

© Ron Baron  

  Early Birds by Paul E Sexton3

at the mall,
before the stores open
they are there.

Walking around in circles.

The elderly.
Must be nearly a hundred.

Race walking.
Hanging out.
Drinking coffee.

The untrained eye
might feel pity for them.
that their lives
have come to this.

But I see something
A lifetime of battles
Some won,
some lost,
but all survived.

And now,
at last
they are not;
sitting in cubicles,
behind desks,
standing at assembly lines,
or behind counters.

They are free.

Somewhat resembling
lounging on a
warm wet beach
on a late

© Paul E Sexton3

Rain Haiku by Paul E Sexton3

Water from a roof
completely reconfigures
the soft earth below.

Time seems to stand still
around a dog in the rain,
until he moves on.

Cars in the distance
can be heard as they approach,
splashing on moist streets.

A tree all but dead
appears almost born again
when sky, opens wide

© Paul E Sexton3

  Secret Sanctuary
by Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

I took a trail that I had
never taken before - A journey
anticipating the
unknown and a sweet
invitation to excite my
senses.  There was an aged
forest of oak under their
canopy of dark leaves,
forming a secret sanctuary.
Birds trilled from the trees
trailing slashes of
color across the landscape.
There was a river of
bright water nearby, shimmering in a
stray sunbeam.  It rushed
heedlessly over crags, pooling in
fern-crowded shallows.  This
place is lush with living things,
perfumed by blossoms and
cloaked in a misty rain.  Soft
buttercups nodded their
dainty heads in the tall grasses.
Enchantment awaits.

 © Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

  Empty Sunshine Day by Terri Black

An empty sunshine day
Time on your hands
Did you ever
Really understand?

An empty day
An empty life
Just an empty
Sunshine day

Stars laugh in your face
Moon weeps in your eyes
Sweep my cares away
On this empty sunshine day

©  Terri Black   

  I'll Just Be Me  by Evelyn Turner

Deafness pours around me, all I hear is the beat of my heart;

confusion drags me under, I don't know where to start.

I feel like I'm drowning, You gave me your love;

but I don't know. Nothing is sent from above.

I mask all my worries, I wish I could lean on you;

but then again I don't. You're not the person I thought I knew.

We have so many memories, some good, some bad;

but sitting here all alone, has made me very sad.

Maybe it's too hard, for love to sustain;

but I know I love you, and I hope you feel the same.

Nothing helps, not sleep, not time, not prayer;

It doesn't seem right, it doesn't seem fair.

I can't see the sun, all I see is rain;

 till death do us part, through all the pain.

 Together or not, I guess I'll see;

 but in the meantime, I'll just be me.

©   Evelyn Turner

  Perpetual Motion by Sharon Joan  Rothenfluch Cooper

I squatted in the sand by the
edge of the cool, mysterious
sea.  Breakers curved and
surged with blue-green
clarity - a sweetness of
transparency.  Waves foamed
around rocks as twilight and
fog formed a blur at the edges of
water and stone.  Pelicans plunged
into the choppy waves hunting
dinner.  Spray caught the
currents of air.  Sharp scent of
sand and pine greeted my senses
from stubbled ridges as trees
crouched low against the
cutting wind - a marriage of
ocean, rock and pine.
A study in perpetual motion.

© Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

  Raising Kids Is No Big Deal
 by Roger J. Robicheau

Raising kids is no big deal
Unless you care, and show great zeal.

To raise a child is not some game
To put away, Boy! what a shame.

When children reach adulthood burnt
Could there be lessons never learnt?

Those little things you often do
Will have much impact, copy you.

Lean to God, while on the road
Cause raising right, takes one big load.

Just try your best, no guarantees
And if you slip, jump back on please.

© Roger J. Robicheau   website

 by Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

 My breath vaporized and swirled.
I walked a path ill-defined
because of the mantle of snow,
gleaming like a carpet of
crystals.  Fingers painted by the
wind, clawed streaks across the
land.  Trees stripped to a
skeletal pallor stretched arms,
with caps of white - heavy with
their fleecy burden.  Snow on
uppermost branches loosened and
plummeted to lower branches,
causing a chain reaction that
rumbled the earth.  Echoes of
snapping limbs cracked
through the air.  A magnificent
transformation of the landscape.

©  Sharon Joan Rothenfluch Cooper

Grief  by Jessica Chipman

cross legged I sit
on my bed
there is a fire
in the icy breeze
blowing through the open window
my mind blank
Pandora's box
waiting to be opened
The power in my eyes
and the words on my lips
So many names for tears
Die Tranen
Eau de douleur
Los rios del corazon
and I have the eyes
to cry them all.

©Jessica Chipman

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