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Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
                                                                                                                Robert Frost

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Member's Poems

Joseph Pacheco           The Night Before Christmas on Sanibel Isle
                                    Pelicans Are Uneasy
Carol Drummond        December
                                    Little Red Bird
Mari Hopp                   A Poem for October
Betzi Abram                A Poem for "Older" Computer Users
Mary Beth Lundgren  Wild Man of the North

The Night Before Christmas on Sanibel Isle

By Joseph Pacheco

(Broadcast on WGCU, 12-24-07)

‘Twas the night before Christmas on Sanibel Isle,

Not a gator was stirring, nor our one crocodile.

The Roseate Spoonbills wore pink underwear

While Blue Herons were sleeping legs up in the air.

The shops had been emptied of I-Pods and stones,

And last-minute shoppers dialing cell phones.

The Drawbridge Protection was in its last throes,

And from Lake Okachobee poured freshwater woes.

But I with my Flo-Max and Ma with Botox

Were just settling down to our new cable Box,

When all of a sudden nothing bright did appear,

A Lee County Light outage — the two hundredth this year.

The cordless phones in an instant went dead,

No television programs to be watched while in bed.

But the land line we’d kept and the cellular phone

Brought assurance from police we weren’t alone.

When would lights go on? —the police had no clue,

But ‘twas holiday season and they were only a few:

The rest had all gone to Bell Tower Fair

In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.

The generator purchased after Charlie’s big blow

Had gone back to Costco when FEMA said no.

So with one trusty flashlight we walked to the beach,

Met snowbirds collecting every shell within reach.

The moon shining down on red seaweed below

Made some of us wish we had stayed north with snow.

But Sanibel’s no-see-ums not blinded by light

Had all come to wish us Merry Christmas that night.

So back to our houses we ran like a flash,

Closed all our windows and pulled down the sash,

Called Lee County Electric on our cellular phone —

Their message informed us they had all gone home:

In the spirit of Christmas they were proud to say,

An emergency crew would work Christmas Day.

Till then, it concluded, cheerful and bright,

"Merry Christmas to customers, from Lee County Light."

                                               ************************************

Pelicans Are Uneasy

By Joseph Pacheco

(Telecast on Fox News, March 15, 2007)

Pelicans are uneasy, the gulls grim,

Umbilical drawbridge will be severed soon,

On Sanibel Causeway the cause is dim.

A fixed bridge rising high from rim to rim

Ready to block full view of the moon,

Pelicans are uneasy, the gulls grim.

No grates to raise, no warning bell to ring,

Cruise ships and tankers under each pontoon,

On Sanibel Causeway the cause is dim.

No orange sunset on San Carlos brim

While eighteen wheelers thunder out of tune,

Pelicans are uneasy, the gulls grim.

Day-trippers wait for the tolls to trim,

City and county each other impugn,

On Sanibel Causeway the cause is dim.

Pile drivers pound and gone is the dream

Of gated island from mainland immune.

Pelicans are uneasy, the gulls grim,

On Periwinkle Way the cause is dim.

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*************************************

December

by Carol Drummond

We fold another year

Like the last page of a calendar

Its promises now history

Its tomorrows now yesterdays.

Time tucks it softly in a drawer

Beribboned

To join past years’ moments

Some bidden

Some not.

Each carries its own scent

Casts its own hue.

We recognize the fragrance

Of hope and gratitude

The blue skies of birth

And the gray which stains our losses.

December – a month, a history.

December speaks our past.

December promises a new page.

*********************************************************************************************************

Little Red Bird

By Carol Drummond

Did you think you found your Love again

When you kissed that mirror

Just before you flew away,

Little

Pretty

Redbird?

Or did you fly

(The only thing you could do)

Because you knew it wasn’t him

And

Never, ever

Could be?

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********************************************************

A POEM FOR OCTOBER

by Mari Hopp

From out of the sky came a great orange ball
as if dancing in the clouds carefree and bold
ageless endless, announcing the harvest to all
face within smiling seeming to mean
that it is invincible, creative not green.
It is the moon...alluring, endless, master of the night
giving romance to some in its light
evidence of God in His Almighty.

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     ****************************************************************************

A POEM FOR "OLDER" COMPUTER USERS

by Betzi Abram

A Computer was something on TV
From a Science Fiction show of note
A Window was something you hated to clean
And Ram was the father of a goat.

Meg was the name of a girlfriend
And Gig was a job for the nights
Now they all mean different things
And that really Mega Bytes.

An Application was for employment
A Program was a TV show
A Cursor used profanity
A Keyboard was a piano.

A Memory was something that you lost with age
A CD was a bank account
And if you had a 3-inch floppy
You hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage
Not something you did to a file
And if you Unzipped anything in public
You'd be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire
Hard drive was a long trip on the road
A Mouse pad was where a mouse lived
And a Backup happened to your commode.

Cut you did with a pocket knife
Paste you did with glue
A Web was a spider's home
And a Virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
And the Memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a Computer crash
But when it happens they wish they were dead.

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WILD MAN OF THE NORTH

Mary Beth Lundgren

Sun and summer roses gone,
Wild November stands,
Hands on hips, alone.
Gray-lined fur cloak, open, flaps.
“Time to work,” he roars,
Then laughs.

Green, rust, gold, all color
gone,
Wild November’s breath
Ruffles lakes, alone.
Ground aches, frozen, cracked
with cold.
“Snow! Come down!” he yells,
and blows.

Mums and tart-sweet apples
gone,
Mother Nature calls.
Tired November sniffles,
scuffles leaves, comes
home,
And sleeps.