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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The Falling Rain

The pitter, the patter the constant clatter the drone of the drowning rain   The birds, their banter now silent and somber still safe and serene subdued by the canter of continuous rain   My coat uncloaked now hooked and hung on high the drip of endless drops the dripping of the rain   The …

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Huckleberry Dreams

<One of my favorite things to do while living in Memphis was to drive to Shelby Forest, a magical place north of the city.  It was only a short trip but upon entering the towering trees and winding roads, it was worlds away from the chaos of the city, and mystical in its serenity.  There I …

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Of Pride and Passion

There are games we play and there is passion   It is perhaps America’s pastime that merely passes the time until the tumble of Autumn leaves ushers in the rumble of the band the roar of the crowd and that first whistle blast   It is more than mere game   It is the beating …

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Truth’s Toil

The piercing sounds of truth the subtle sting or voluminous blow rather each or either shall unbridle the burdensome soul Perplexed by one’s own perspective oft hidden well within walls of shimmering armour and the afterglow of self Caste beneath shields and buried still deeper still aligned majestically the curse of perception fueled and funneled …

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The First Last Dance – At Last

her life she lived by choice to live humbly within the hills and hollows of the only place ever she called home a life lived long and a long life lived upon the land she labored and the home she made with such love and though life at times was not so kind in kind …

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The Wind My Soul

The Wind My Soul By Joe Cundiff   The wind is howling howling The wind is growling Ripping through my skin The wind is Howling Trees bending bending Bending More But will not break But will I Branches sway in the howling Growling wind Angry waves dancing Angrily randomly And somehow Majestic Yet I stand …

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