GHS Writer’s Society Presents – Poetry Café Night

The lights at night tell a story, and on a cold winter Wednesday night, the lights illuminating from the Graham High School cafeteria had quite a story to tell.  On a night and hour when all is often dark, the lights inside were shining brightly for a noteworthy cause.  On January 22nd 2020 the GHS …

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The Lights at Night

The lights at night tell a story often faded in random glory and lingering in layers stories abound in the boundless flickers of flickering lights beyond the spindles of splintering limbs slow waving hemlocks and hickory bends barren branches bare a story to tell stories rolling through fields and farms wrapped in the weave of …

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the farce of fear

what if the power to prevail

prevailed first in thought

what if our arms race

raced to lend a hand

of help

and an ear yearning

to heal

what if we were

to imagine and live

only one race

the human race

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G-Men Pride – We Wear It Still

We came from Across the Tracks and Between the Bridges.  Places with names like Springville, Falls Mills, Sedgewood, West Graham and Pine Hill Park.  We came from in town and out in the country and we gathered at the Double Gates.  Why?  To become men.  To become G-Men. The day the dream began.  Some of …

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Like him or not, agree or disagree, his words and his actions made us think, and for that we are better. Greater perhaps.

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Sergeant Riley’s Absence

Windswept leaves dance across the Wild Meadow Cemetery in a random swirl and suddenly all is calm.   Perhaps the end was that sudden nearly seventy-two years ago when Sergeant Mark Herman Riley breathed his last breath on a battlefield in New Guinea.    It was July 1944. Little is known of that fateful day.  A letter …

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To Choreograph Perfection

Perfection is perhaps Impossible To choreograph First It must season For many Many years Until The precise blend Of circumstance Aligns Amidst the glorious Backdrop of autumn The scene A special place We called home There are smiles And hugs Laughter and maybe Tears And memories born So many autumns Prior With friends to last …

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In Fields We Play

In Fields We Play by Joe Cundiff In the stillness of night And on the early morning Mountain ridges And dark river banks I shall miss you still You became and would Become So much of my soul My being Together we shared More than one life Could bear Together we trod Amidst darkness And …

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