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The Torch

The torch, was passed
I said to you
The show, the cops
The 'STING'
The turnpike
The brief shower
Be true

I know you, you'll
Continue
Your wicked ways
While, I, lonely, still married
Lost in this maze

Just be my friend
I still want you so
The torch has been passed
A concert ago

The next one

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poem by Matt Mondschein
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The Harlot

Mid Uzi shots from vacant lots, which strike and ricochet
A painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy) 's on her way
To tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
And indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
To any guy who's passing by with cash and time to pay.

In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
With flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.

poem by Terry O'Leary
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The Torch (Act Two)

The torch slowly fades
The burning sensation
Languishly depleting into another
Pepsi generation

No more parties for me, my friend
No more pool tables to set you on
The memories, the concert date
Forever gone

Back to sobriety
No more calamity
Bringin' back
All of me

This program saves lives
Been there and it works
No more bar room insanity
No more alcoholic jerks

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poem by Matt Mondschein
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Appetite

It is appetizing, the meal is appetizing,
I consumed a mighty warrior of steel.
My concession was plain, just give me food
So I give you a meal, food for two now.
The concert repeats, I laugh and cry forever,
But still I smile and giggle with dizziness.
The groups of people look like apes with food,
The two of us are fed, what of the rest of us?
My appetite is satisfied, but your meal surrounds
And loves me, like two of us in the middle of feeding.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Ozzy Osborne

Ozzy was in Black Sabbath at the concert I saw,
he put on a show that in the raw.
Flying black bat at Ozzy's show
stage alit, lights aglow.
Ozzy's eyes stare at bat,
Ozzy decides to munch on that.
Then Ozzy sings at the top of his lungs.
It was a great show I had a lot of fun.
Lighter lit up everywhere,
pot smoke lingered in the air.
Everyone high and feeling fine,
I left my chair and went to see Ozzy closer this time.
This was a great show, very sublime.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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I Was Told

for Clara, my daughter, my heart, my song

She didn't invite me,
my soul was there, though.
I was told she sang her song,
brave, beautiful,
young, and yet, strong.

I was told, that
the audience,
she faced, fearless.
A tight and short skirt,
over endless legs,
over ivory shoulders,
flew her fair hair.

Next concert, wether,
invited or not,
I shall see her by myself

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poem by Laa Finita
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Love Is Something

love is a contradiction
a word describing emotions
not one singular easily defined
but a set list playing out
in the concert of a lifetime
passion and jealousy
the excitement of fear
hope and tragedy combine
in a filling crescendo
love is this and more besides
the beat, beat of the soul
beat of heart inside
beat of the music playing
love is a dream
you wake up from screaming
love is something
quite beyond understanding
love is a contradiction
so I'll move on

poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Theater Of Our Life

Waiting in the wings for you--
Your sweet smile holds my thoughts--
Contemplating your heavenly lips...
And imagining our long awaited touch;
Searching the stage of life where you perform-
In concert with all of your hopes and dreams...
I am left feeling mellow with the
Ever hopeful thoughts--
That with a kinder Fate and pure unadulterated Faith--
That there is a beautiful future for you and i;

'Tis Eve On Earth

Thanksgiving
November 25,2010

poem by Theodora Onken
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The Grand Piano

The grand piano stood in the corner
no longer played anymore.
Once it stood under the spotlights
in crowded concert halls.
Famous musicians from around the world
sat and played concertos
and solo arias with soft melodic tones.
Each note graced lovely
from eagerly expectant ears.
Now the crowds have disappeared,
loving fingers no longer graced
its black and white keys.
The grand piano just stands alone
locked with memories
of the great old days.

25 October 2008

poem by David Harris
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One Moment in Time

A single orange daisy.
Blooming from the sidewalk crack.
In the early morning.
Dew dripping off its delicate petals.
The sun is rising.
The flower struggles to survive.
Rising up from the concert it blossoms with new hope.
I’m going to live.

A small girl.
Pink dress and shiny black shoes.
She sees the flower.
The flower.
Wet petals, bursting with new light and hope.
She waddles over.
And picks it.
The flower.
It’s life.
Gone.
In just one moment in time.

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poem by Madelyn Burnham
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