I'm sweating in the electric chair -
Nervous in the fluorescent glare.
You are white-coated with a clinical air;
I can sense your rustling outerwear.
A soothing voice above the distant hum:
"Soon be over, this won't take long,
we'll fix the damage that you've done
Starting off with this injection."
My mouth is dry, my lips are numb
like an appointment, the time has come -
The room it swims and the clock strikes one...
"Did you see the film Marathon Man?"
Yes, I'm sweating in the electric chair -
At the Dentist's - hah! - got you there!
(Say aaaarrrgggghhhhh!)
Stephen A. Roberts
The Dilemma - Ian Duquemin
The gun lay loaded on the table
Its metal held a dull patina
Atmosphere lies heavy, on...
His agonised demeanour
Betrayal fills his angry thoughts
His finger spins the barrel blue
Hatred soaks his bleeding heart
The guns position - 10 to 2
Pointing at a photograph
The weapon aims towards her eyes
Those very eyes that sought another
Held so many lies
Returning to his grand finale
Voices scream from deep inside
"Do it" call the shrieking demons
"DO IT" they all cried
He holds the gun and lifts it slowly
Places it beneath his chin
"Pull it" shout the silent screamers
Taunting from within
Sweat rolls down like oily paint
That follows contours on his face
His fingers strangle, sticky handle
Time tilts him from grace
Eyes slammed shut and hands-a-trembling
Deathly silence hangs on air
Accelerated moments pass
He slumps back in his chair
Heartbeat rate now that of clock
Slows down with time and moving hand
Today was not the day for weeping...
Or the day he'd planned
Ian Duquemin
Its metal held a dull patina
Atmosphere lies heavy, on...
His agonised demeanour
Betrayal fills his angry thoughts
His finger spins the barrel blue
Hatred soaks his bleeding heart
The guns position - 10 to 2
Pointing at a photograph
The weapon aims towards her eyes
Those very eyes that sought another
Held so many lies
Returning to his grand finale
Voices scream from deep inside
"Do it" call the shrieking demons
"DO IT" they all cried
He holds the gun and lifts it slowly
Places it beneath his chin
"Pull it" shout the silent screamers
Taunting from within
Sweat rolls down like oily paint
That follows contours on his face
His fingers strangle, sticky handle
Time tilts him from grace
Eyes slammed shut and hands-a-trembling
Deathly silence hangs on air
Accelerated moments pass
He slumps back in his chair
Heartbeat rate now that of clock
Slows down with time and moving hand
Today was not the day for weeping...
Or the day he'd planned
Ian Duquemin
Come Up To Maynooth - Kathy Figueroa
I’m at the top of a big hill today,
Where the eagles soar and wild critters play,
Basking in sunshine, right next to the sky,
In Hastings Highlands, fifteen hundred feet high.
The air is pristine and the view is fine;
The hillsides are covered with birch and pine.
A valley is nice, so’s a sandy bay,
But on this big hill is where I’d like to stay.
There are many small galleries to see,
With beautiful paintings and pottery.
Butter tarts, chocolates, and fudge, sublime…
Come up to the hills and you’ll have a sweet time!
The Farmers’ Market is full of great things,
Like fine crocheted scarves, soaps, and silver rings.
The civic spirit is beyond compare
At “Maynooth Madness” events and the Fall Fair!
So, if you feel a need to get away
And are looking for a quaint place to stay;
When city life gets too loud and uncouth,
Just head for the hills and come up to Maynooth!
Kathy Figueroa
Where the eagles soar and wild critters play,
Basking in sunshine, right next to the sky,
In Hastings Highlands, fifteen hundred feet high.
The air is pristine and the view is fine;
The hillsides are covered with birch and pine.
A valley is nice, so’s a sandy bay,
But on this big hill is where I’d like to stay.
There are many small galleries to see,
With beautiful paintings and pottery.
Butter tarts, chocolates, and fudge, sublime…
Come up to the hills and you’ll have a sweet time!
The Farmers’ Market is full of great things,
Like fine crocheted scarves, soaps, and silver rings.
The civic spirit is beyond compare
At “Maynooth Madness” events and the Fall Fair!
So, if you feel a need to get away
And are looking for a quaint place to stay;
When city life gets too loud and uncouth,
Just head for the hills and come up to Maynooth!
Kathy Figueroa
The Last Adventurer - Adrian Bott
No heavy seas delayed him, but traffic, trains and fog.
No weeks in icy darkness, finger-cutting salt spray but the busy lights of road and rail and terminal bobbed round him.
A short trip this, a day adventure and he returns clutching contracts, contacts, linking networks and a good deal hauled in.
Later, on his desk the catch of scattered cards flash with owners’ details, corners sharp and fresh;
Their embossed letters soon tapped safely into reports and notes and action plans.
An ocean past on creaking deck, numb red hands finished packing the icy flapping harvest;
Raw hands that now long for healing sun and warm days at Cobo.
The Adventurer dreams as the boat groans homewards.
In Spring he had started building.
Fresh wood sawn and dragged over grass, hammered and glazed; they worked as a team.
Gently pushing in the glass he balanced on high white timbers and surveyed the fields to Town and back to choppy West coast.
He recalls the careless moment as the pane slipped and red drops fell from his palm anointing the sawdust, bread-crumb fresh, below his dangling legs.
He gazes at his hand and with a mild Norman oath presses his mark on the gable.
What he has built will now provide for his family but there is one last adventure where black sea and sky meet.
Tap, tap – the money has moved, the deal is done and the Adventurer reclines.
The towering Sunday supplements slip and scatter on foreign marble floor.
Startled, he looks out from the conservatory down smooth striped grass to the paddock and beyond,
Where a sea of brambles are tugging down a skeleton of tired, paint-flecked bones;
Frozen across a sea of years, the fog bank swallows the laden keel.
Adrian Bott
No weeks in icy darkness, finger-cutting salt spray but the busy lights of road and rail and terminal bobbed round him.
A short trip this, a day adventure and he returns clutching contracts, contacts, linking networks and a good deal hauled in.
Later, on his desk the catch of scattered cards flash with owners’ details, corners sharp and fresh;
Their embossed letters soon tapped safely into reports and notes and action plans.
An ocean past on creaking deck, numb red hands finished packing the icy flapping harvest;
Raw hands that now long for healing sun and warm days at Cobo.
The Adventurer dreams as the boat groans homewards.
In Spring he had started building.
Fresh wood sawn and dragged over grass, hammered and glazed; they worked as a team.
Gently pushing in the glass he balanced on high white timbers and surveyed the fields to Town and back to choppy West coast.
He recalls the careless moment as the pane slipped and red drops fell from his palm anointing the sawdust, bread-crumb fresh, below his dangling legs.
He gazes at his hand and with a mild Norman oath presses his mark on the gable.
What he has built will now provide for his family but there is one last adventure where black sea and sky meet.
Tap, tap – the money has moved, the deal is done and the Adventurer reclines.
The towering Sunday supplements slip and scatter on foreign marble floor.
Startled, he looks out from the conservatory down smooth striped grass to the paddock and beyond,
Where a sea of brambles are tugging down a skeleton of tired, paint-flecked bones;
Frozen across a sea of years, the fog bank swallows the laden keel.
Adrian Bott
My Starlight Angel - Lester Queripel
My Starlight Angel came down from above.
She brought with her an abundance of love.
She spread it around for everyone to share.
You really missed out if you weren’t there.
She took my hand and we walked toward the light.
My eyes were blessed with a wondrous sight.
The sun was rising with a golden glow.
There was nowhere else I wanted to go.
“All this” she said “Is untouched by human hand.
This is natures’ wonderland.”
She pointed at the river, crystal clear.
She said “Now listen and tell me what you hear”
I could hear a bird singing in a tree.
I was in awe of everything around me.
A beautiful rainbow arched colours across the sky.
Fluffy white clouds drifted on by.
The sun grew stronger illuminating the day.
All sorts of animals began to play.
They are no longer in fear, but safe to roam.
Secure and safe and in their natural home.
“The water is so clear” I said “I think I’ll put my feet in”
She smiled at me and said “What about a swim!”
The water was cooling and we laughed as we swam.
We swam to a rock that formed a natural dam.
Resting awhile, we gazed at the landscape.
“I can’t believe it” I said, “It’s too much to take”
She said “Come here anytime you feel in need of sanctuary”
I sighed and replied “This is truly the place for me”
Lester Queripel
She brought with her an abundance of love.
She spread it around for everyone to share.
You really missed out if you weren’t there.
She took my hand and we walked toward the light.
My eyes were blessed with a wondrous sight.
The sun was rising with a golden glow.
There was nowhere else I wanted to go.
“All this” she said “Is untouched by human hand.
This is natures’ wonderland.”
She pointed at the river, crystal clear.
She said “Now listen and tell me what you hear”
I could hear a bird singing in a tree.
I was in awe of everything around me.
A beautiful rainbow arched colours across the sky.
Fluffy white clouds drifted on by.
The sun grew stronger illuminating the day.
All sorts of animals began to play.
They are no longer in fear, but safe to roam.
Secure and safe and in their natural home.
“The water is so clear” I said “I think I’ll put my feet in”
She smiled at me and said “What about a swim!”
The water was cooling and we laughed as we swam.
We swam to a rock that formed a natural dam.
Resting awhile, we gazed at the landscape.
“I can’t believe it” I said, “It’s too much to take”
She said “Come here anytime you feel in need of sanctuary”
I sighed and replied “This is truly the place for me”
Lester Queripel
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