July/August Poetry


Shadows of Yesterday


The shadows of Yesterday

Are the jailers from which we run

And it’s only when we look behind us

That we cannot see the sun.


Sharolyn Dawn




A cold ribbon of light pierces between

Low scudding clouds and the black sea

Highlighting whitecaps whipped by the

Grey east wind.


Distant, the island house
holds life within

Unable to fulfill its measured mission.

A vision of tragic loneliness and beauty,

A gaunt, wraith like figure emerges

From the scalloped Victorian veranda.


An ecru shawl slips from her frame as

Gnarled fingers
clutch the weathered rail.


Robert L. Stevens

Ben Wheeler





Some say that Texas is unbearable in summer;

but I say, that one must offer some small sacrifice to the Sun Gods,

in order to bear witness
to the beauty of the season.

Red and yellow and bronze and gold,

all have their place
on this summer palette so bold,

that even the fiercest of Ra’s demons

could not dispel the radiance that emanates from the Artist’s brush.

As the emerald canvas fades to brown,

the days will mercifully grow shorter,
and cooler,

until once again God’s festive palette bursts forth with the shades of Autumn.

Some say that Texas is unbearable in summer;

but I say, grab a glass of sweet tea

and sit in the shade of your favorite tree,

and bear witness to what may be,

the most wonderful season of the year.


Harold Burke

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