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.
    "Angels Unaware"
Along life's pathway, God sends angels unaware.
An angel to listen, an angel to care,
An angel to understand unspoken words of the heart,
An angel encourages the desires of our heart.
An angel doesn't always have wings to fly,
An angel can sometimes look like you and I.
Friends of the heart are sent from above,
They are destined to share God's unconditional love.
So today you must know how special you are,
You shine much brighter than the distant stars.
And the encouragement you give, the concern you share,
Can only be an answered prayer.
Just knowing you are unconditionally there,
Enables me to believe in angels unaware.
Yes, friends of the heart are sent from above,
They are destined to share God's unconditional love.
-- Laura Jan Kirkley

"Someone's Love Letters"

On a table filled with old photographs, post cards and other odds and ends in an old antique shop, I found a bundle of yellowed letters tied with a frayed and faded blue ribbon.

Intrigued by the bundle and on impulse, I purchased it. A bit foolish, or perhaps just sentimental, but for some reason, I knew I had to buy that bundle of old letters.

It was several days later before I had a chance to look at the letters. They were old and fragile. The writing on the top one was a fine Victorian style, much like my Grandmother's writing. The old stamp was only one cent. How long had it been since letters were mailed for one cent?

Flipping the edges, I saw some were written in a bold, masculine hand. No doubt about it. These were someone's cherished love letters.

About to untie the ribbon to read the letters, I remembered a day years ago when I had asked my mother, "Why are you burning the package of letters you have kept for so many years?" Mother replied, "They were private words between your Father and me, not meant for others to read."

Now I knew why I had to buy the package of letters. With tear-filled eyes, I laid the bundle on the logs in the fireplace and watched the flames curl the fragile paper, blackening the pages and reducing them to ashes. Whoever the lovers were, and whatever they wrote to each other was forever between them -- not meant for me and others to read.

-- Dorothy Miller Birdwell
" In the Summer"
In the summer he would carry me,
Up on his shoulders high.
He was so big and strong,
A very special guy.
Now he doesn't carry me
For I have grown quite tall.
It doesn't hold the same appeal
As when I was so small.
We talk about the things I do
And what I want to be.
He helps me with my problems
And tries to encourage me.
I know how much he loves me
Even when we don't agree,
And most of all I know for sure
He'll always be a special Dad to
  me.
   -- Cindy Suddarth