Writers’ Corner

If you have a poem, song lyrics or a short story and you would like to share it with the readers of The Statesman now is your chance.

Email or mail us your submission and look for it in an upcoming issue of The Statesman.
“ People will talk!”
You may get through the world, but ‘twill be very slow,
If you listen to all that is said as you go,
You’ll be wearied and fretted and kept in a stew,
Meddlesome tongues will have something to do,
For people will talk!
If quiet and modest, you’ll have it presumed
That your humble position is only assumed.
You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or else you’re a fool,
But don’t get excited, keep perfectly cool!
For people will talk!
If generous and noble, they’ll vent out their spleen;
You’ll hear some loud hints that you’re selfish and mean.
If upright and honest, and fair as the day,
They’ll call you a rogue, in a sly, sneaking way,
For people will talk!
And then if you show the least boldness of heart,
Or a slight inclination to take your own part,
They’ll call you an upstart, conceited and vain,
But keep straight ahead.   Don’t stop to explain.
For people will talk!
If threadbare your dress or old-fashioned your hat,
Someone will surely take notice of that,
And hint you’re unable to pay your own way,
But don’t get excited, whatever they say,
For people will talk!
If you dress in the fashion, don’t think to escape,
For they criticize then in a different shape;
You’re ahead of your means or your tailor’s unpaid,
But mind you own business and don’t be afraid,
For people will talk!
Now the best way to do is to do as you please!
For your mind, if you have one   will then be at ease.
Of course you will meet with all sorts of abuse,
But don’t think to stop them, it’s not any use,
For people will talk!
  Submitted by Otis Rainwater

      “Wintertime”
The trees stand naked and forlorn
Their skeletal arms
Reaching toward the sky,
Now gray and forbidding,
Their feet buried deep and warmed
By layers of decaying leaves,
And deep drifted snow.
There is a flurry of flashing colors
Around the feeding stations
Where the birds come to dine
On the seeds and crumbs,
Tasty treats put out for them,
While kitty sits on the windowsill
And watches from his cozy perch.
The rocker by the window is
A place to sit and contemplate
Both the beauty and the barrenness
Of the deep wintertime,
The season when all things
Slow down for an interval
Of rest and renewal.
    --Dorothy Birdwell

“My Mom is a Special Mom”

My Mom is a special Mom, as I’m sure your Mom is too; whatever she would tell me, I knew that it was true. She made our breakfast with love each day and sent us off to school, and when we all came home each night she had our dinner too!

She read to me and played with me and we always went to church, even with three children, she never missed a service.

Kindness is her policy to everyone she meets. She’s a real friendly sort, the kind you’d like to greet. Everyone that knows her will tell you “She’s so sweet!” She always said to look your best -- you never know who you’ll meet!

My Mom always had faith in me to be my very best, to try real hard and keep on trying, even though I might not win. She said, It’s not whether I won or lost, but how I played the game; be a sport and don’t be mad even though I didn’t win, and congratulate those that did, and next time try again.

But one thing that my Mom did teach, and I say my Dad did too, was when they tucked me in at night we learned the golden rule. We’d pray for those around us and for those far away, and we prayed that Jesus would be near us each and every day.

My Mom is a special Mom and I’m sure yours is too, but mine’s the extra special kind you never want to lose!

-- Diann Desselles