images/pages_template1x1.jpg images/pages_template1x2.jpg
images/pages_template2x1.jpg images/pages_template2x2.jpg images/pages_template2x4.jpg
images/pages_template3x1.jpg images/pages_template3x2.jpg


Poet's Platform Column | 22 May 08

by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio


return to column index

This Memorial Day

As I place the flowers on her headstone
I feel a warm tear sliding down my cheek
My mothers love will never be forgotten
Kindness in this old world she did seek

Mother was my friend and my confidant
She was always there when I needed her
A lady with a heart that was always giving
She always was easy going never to anger

I know she is up in Heaven with our family
My two sisters and my brother is there too
My father must be a truck driver up there
Here on Earth that is what he loved to do

Flowers I give to each of them on this day
As I decorate this ground in which they lay
It is for the love we had here on this Earth
I place these flowers on this Memorial Day

Acie Workman
Eden Park


Living Calendars

Seconds tic-tock away as
minutes slip into hours
and join hands with days
until weeks and months
rendezvous with years.
Years amalgamate into decades
and roll into centuries.
The squares on our calendars
pass slowly and pass quickly
depending upon moments
of pain or pleasure.
Main events are etched in
diplomas, vows, cribs,
silver bells, gold watches, eulogies.
Each person is a living calendar.

Melissa C. Martin


My Hands On The Strings

That old guitar
Just sits in the corner
Collecting dust
And staying silent.
Sometimes I dream
If I knew how to play
If the music I’d make
With my hands on the strings.

My fingers would dance
And strum through cords
Creating sweet melody
Everyone could adore.
Vibrations would swell
Through that old G-string
Playing something,
Some things just for you.

John Schartz
Orrville, OH










images/pages_template5x1.jpg images/pages_template5x2.jpg