Some of our
Prize-winning Poetry
of 2000 - 2003


"Great Poets of our Time"

            I HELPED HIM CRY...
Her little son of four years old
Seemed to understand
When the neighbor’s wife had died
And left a lonely man.  
He saw him sitting on the porch
This man of eighty-one,
He went and climbed upon his knee
He sat there in the sun.  
When the daylight turned  to dusk
The little boy returned.
His older friend was smiling
Although his heart still yearned.  
“What did you two talk about?”
“Oh, nothing,” he replied.
“I just went and sat with him,
“I thought I’d help him cry...”
             DAVID GOFF

From The Sunlit Path

Dear one, I abandoned you when I was too green to know
return is not a simple thing.  One travels far, and then,
fate has it so, there is no turning back.
Could I escape this dovecote, I would fly to your feet;
yet, solitude conquered you, devouring your memory of me.
Not Argus, you no longer see more than a stranger.
The golden thread in you did not endure, but snapped;
about my heart, instead, it strengthened, tangled with regret.
Not even raging storms, blackening skies, maddening seas,
could drive me home: shipwrecked and forlorn,
I met your signal, of fog and ice.

From "The Sunlit Path"
I looked for a ministry far away,
  One that would thrill my soul,
One that would challenge hundreds
            of lives,
  Perhaps even numbers untold.  
But the Lord said clearly, “Listen to me.
I want you right where you are.
  I want you here
  To comfort and cheer
With a deed and a song or kind word.”  
People aren’t looking for doctrines
         or creeds.
These can be found anywhere.
  They want to see
The love of the Lord
  Flowing through you and through me.

Outside my window is a world beyond
my stares...
What ever my heart wants to imagine
there you are...
In every glance I picture you in my mind.

A gentle breeze blowing through your
golden hair...
My heart sees you inwardly with warm
Is there any wonder that I could be in love
The sky is in your eyes with shades
of heavenly blue...

Within each look you hold my breath endlessly
taking little parts of me.

"The Helping Hand Anthology"

I was just a drunk on the down side of town
sleeping anywhere my wine would lay me down
my suit needed pressing, my face could stand a shave
I was just a couple of drinks from my grave.
Was it that man from a mission or a cop on the beat
the hand gently touched me and I got to my feet
then hands touched my shoulder I shrugged them away
I didn’t want to hear what I knew he would say
My feet stood again on good solid ground
thru teardrops I could see clearly once more
I picked up my bottle then I threw it down
turned to thank him for the strength I had found

His eyes had tears but on his head was a crown
and the hand he extended to steady me down
was strong but soft, gentle rather pale
marked with several scars about the size of a nail.



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