[Sharon Passmore]

<marquee>Congratulations to Marion Shore for her winning image and to Diana B. and Henry Quince for their winning poems</marquee>

Into the West

<table cellpadding=4 width=100%>
<tr><td>INTO THE WEST
With beaks like boat prows, tilted high,
they ride white foaming clouds whereby
no breeze exists within the mist;
no wings are spread yet on they fly.

And, see, they sail serene and sure
no sign of fear and all demure.
It seems they glide the restless waves
that drive them far to destined shore.

The sky is smudged a pastel hue
of grey and pink on shades of blue
and wispy veils float gently down,
to grace the way and lead them through.

Soft silver beams and golden light,
a dreamscape journey of delight,
where whispered voices draw invite
and lift their souls to further height.
~Diana B</td><td>Perch Rill
Now as I was young and easy under the towering necks
About the hymning flow and happy as the rill was blue,
<FONT >....The world beneath the ripples trouty,
........Time let me sail and roam
....Purple in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among gaggles I was prince of the minnow schools
And once below a time I lordly had the reeds and gravel
........Trail with shrimplets and mayflies
....Down the eddies of the godsend light.

And as I was blue and carefree, famous upon the banks
Along the joyous runnels, honking as the brook was home
....In the sun that is pink once only,
........Time let me play and be
....Purple in the meanders of his muse,
And blue and purple I was finder and fisher, the perch
Fled from my eye, the grayling in the millpond feared my bill,
........And my shadow loomed scary
....On the pebbles of the wary streams.
~Henry Quince</font>
</td></tr></table>

[nyctom]

WITHDRAWN

[This message has been edited by nyctom (edited April 22, 2005).]

[Alexander Grace]

Into the west

Windows like Agamemnon's eyeslits
snake under the pink that launched a thousand ships
into the civil war that water has always fought
over blood that sinks slowly into the west.

Fool and murderer. You think your towers
will stand much longer than waves?
The ocean will rush into your sockets
and spark blue murder through the nerves

that you call home. There's always an opening
eh, Achilles? You won stars and story
but not the teller - was there another place
where Thetis held you? Your flaw was godblood;

you were destined to make your splash,
while we struggled with the sea; but your line
keeps breeding, though you don't mean us to hear

we hear you say at any cost
I'll take my place in history.



[This message has been edited by Alexander Grace (edited March 21, 2005).]

[Sharon Passmore]

Tom! Where's you poem???

[Julie Steiner]

"What do you get if you goose a ghost
on acid-etched metal?" "I'm beat--
What do you get if you goose such a ghost?"
"A handful of oxidized sheet."

[ChristyElizabeth]

Into The West

Away from the east
sailed a junk flock of geese,
training on wide open, rolling seas.

Fearlessly surfing the surge without rest,
they switched the rolling routes
into the west.

[Mark David]

INTO THE WEST

Into the west,
Where the sun goes to rest,
The flat earthers end their quest.

It's said" there be monsters here"
And they turned away in fear.
Never to know that the end was not near.

How could they think,
The cartographers ink
Would push them beyond the brink?

Then the mariner's eyes did gloss,
At the sight of the albotross.
Unaware of the loss.

And so began his quest;
Never again to rest.
Always- Into the west.

[Yolanda Cruz]

Blue light surfaces, flowing across,
at the base of the tall, blue stone forms,
that have arisen from the depths.

A shredded rocky hand extends and caresses the other,
while a blue serpent head
reaches up from the stream bed,
between them,
inviting a pet on the head.

Time for the journey home
to the craggy red mesas of their birth.
Their penance over for crimes comitted
thousands of years ago.

Into the West.

The fading gods of the desert
await them.

Sitting in their broken kivas they listen and smile,
as the blue stone forms uproot themselves
and make their way toward them.



[This message has been edited by Yolanda Cruz (edited April 01, 2005).]

[Jerry Glenn Hartwig]

No Goose from the Gander When Gosling's Around

The goose and her gander
longing to neck
but their curious gosling's
between them.

It's hard to make hay
when there's three in the nest;
they don't want to get down
all over him.

[Seree Zohar]

Just do your best,
Mama giggled as she stroked
My crest.

Your first big test!
Papa gaggled as we rose
Into the west

I felt a welcome guest,
All tingly and warm, as I flew
With the rest

Boom! A panting dog pressed
Me into a crate.
****
“M’dear, would you care for another slice of breast?”