Writers paint worlds with words. Poets compose music with their poetry.

A Simple Request
By Mickey Gohl

She sits there quiet, legs crossed, her chin rests on her hand.
She riffles her things, the instructor demonstrates, a cellphone chimes,
She sighs, and searches her pockets for a pen,
She makes note of some assignment, book, or film.

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Her psyche a mess like a pin ball machine, her thoughts bounce from one to the next.
The dog is sick, the car is broke, she has to find a new home,
There’s no food on the table, her mother died, her brother’s high,
She lost her job, why the hell wont they shut off that phone!
She sits there quiet, legs crossed, her chin rests on her hand.
Another looks, staring, glaring, if they were Medusa, she’d be stone.
Class is done, she rushes out, can’t be late anymore,
Down the hall, she’s on the run, she’s done it all before.

He walks the halls, homework done, another A in the bag.
He’s at lunch, the line’s long, he glances around with a moan.
He checks his phone, the clerk rings one after another, he shifts his things,
He cringes as students chatter, laugh, or giggle in groups of three or more.

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His bruises shaped like a hand, the bone’s begun to heal, but it’s not long until his next ordeal.
Slits in his arms, voices in his head, where are the kids, did he do what he said?
Pay the bills, fix the door, will she show at all, he can barely take anymore.
Clear the snow, wash the floor, why the hell is the line so slow!

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He walks the halls, homework done, another A in the bag.
The group snorts like pigs at a trough when he passes by
Feed the kids, bed them down hopefully for the night,
Study by the lamp, check the time, he prays he got it right.

The drunk’s at home, pounding case after case, with luck he will not be awake,
A girl is raped, her esteem down the tubes, the test is positive it’s not good news,
Think about this when you pass them in the hall, the street, or store, you don’t know, so say, hello, but if you can’t be kind, then don’t do anymore.  


Letter to A Friend
By Marlane Gohl
You with your big, floppy, pink ears.
You with your course, dirty, greasy fur.
You with your long, whip like, creepy, hairless tail. 
You with your beady, round, dead eyes. 
You with your needle like talons.
You with your destruction like a demon. 
Most call you ugly, pest, disease ridden, hideous.
A thing to be feared, scurrying around, making a mess.
You with your dumbo ears,
Fun to tease.
You with your picturesque, fine fur,
Comforting to touch.
You with your long, lash like, cue ball tail,
Resting gently upon my neck.
You with your needle like nails,
Better to grip me with.
You with your deep brown eyes with just a hint of red,
I see something unknown in them. 
The moments when you are graceful,
Hanging upside down from your cage.
The moments when you are goofy,
Bitch slapping your brother then sitting on his head.
The moments when you are compassionate,
Laying by his side, keeping him warm until his time has passed.
You with your tenacity,
Showing me how to not give up.
You with your curiosity,
An uncanny awareness of your surroundings.
You with your intelligence,
Working together to get what you want.
You with your cute, short little kisses,
It’s quality and quantity, the best of both worlds.   
I call you lovely, gorgeous, stunning, striking.
A thing to be admired, and most of all I call you friend.

Sunrise On The Delaware By Mickey Gohl

The Delaware

By Mickey Gohl

She’s been here since long before I was born,

Her waters twisting, churning, and molding the landscape to her will.

She’ll remain long after I am forgotten,

An ancient entity to me, but a mere babe to the planet.

Like a siren, she welcomes, invites, and seduces with her beauty.

She invites mortals to seek refuge and refresh within her bed,

Like a god she gives life and takes it away.

I’ve played within her waters, at home in her caressing yet savage embrace.

I’ve watched sunsets along her banks,

I’ve run with sparklers beside her edges lighting up the night,

I’ve caught fireflies at her side while charring marshmallows over open flame,

I’ve told time by the cargo trains that ran past her embankments,

I’ve watched in awe as she mirrored fireworks back like a cabaret on the fourth of July.

Easily breaking free of her confines,

Her perilous currents and mounting water steamroll the terrain with seldomly equaled fury.

All creatures run from her in terror but return, her treachery soon forgotten.

She is playful once again.

Her currents quietly churning, gurgling, and conversing with the rest of nature,

Be wary of what lies beneath those deceptively still waters.

The Lion

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