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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. - FATHER - A Father is a special someone God created in His image And sent down from above With strong but gentle hands, And a quiet kind of love. A Father knows what to do When a toy is broken, Or you've stubbed a toe, Or maybe reached a crossroad And don't know which way to go. A Father is the someone who With strength tempered by a tear, Hard-won wisdom he imparts, And all through life he holds Our love close to his heart. Dorothy Miller Birdwell MY BESTEST FRIEND I've had a lot of friends throughout my time, But one in particular comes to mind. Always glad to see me at the end of day, Always a smile and something pleasant to say. He had rather play ball than eat, And oh, was he quick on his feet. Not only that, he was a heck of a swimmer; When he got out his hair would just glimmer. At times I would treat him too rough. He showed me he was one who was tough. Never a complaint did I hear from him, It didn't matter if life was bright or dim. Owned an old 1966 Chevrolet truck; Had to ride in the back, that was his luck. Wind in his face like he's running a race, After the trip, he could eat pigskins by the case. Sandy introduced him to me when he was little. He had a twin sister, both fit as a fiddle. We didn't need two, so I gave one away. Always a void from the place where she lay. Of all the friends I've had throughout time, The very best of all comes to mind. After all this time I must confide, The best of all was a dog named Clyde. Dwayne Garner LEAVE THE FLOWERS FOR US When the house has turned to dust, When the tools have changed to rust, And the years have all been just; ... Leave the flowers for us. When the trees have all grown slack And the fields are burnt and black So you cannot bring them back; ... Leave the flowers for us. Old home place all forlorn, With the timbers rent and torn, Still the buds will be reborn; ... Leave the flowers for us. Take away the old porch swing, Take away our childhood fling, Yet the heart within will spring ... When the flowers bloom for us.
by Phyllis Eberhart |
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