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.
CHILDHOOD RE-VISITED
It's spring
and if I were a kid again
I'd run in fields of wildflowers,
chase butterflies flitting by,
blow the fluff from dandelion heads
and watch it float on the breeze.
Run down fresh-made furrows
behind my father's plow,
gather the earthworms turned up,
get out my old cane pole
and go fishing.
In summer
I'd lie in the cool grass and watch
the snowy clouds in the sky
like magic become imagined shapes
of animals and pretend
they were all my friends.
Pick daisies on the hillside,
wade in the rippling stream,
skip stones across the pond,
or sit in the shade of a big tree
on a sultry afternoon and dream.
All these things I used to do
I'd like to do again,
but since time won't roll back,
only in my dreams
can I be a kid again.
by Dorothy M. Birdwell

AMERICA
What does America mean to me?
It's being myself and being free.
It's freedom to do whatever you please
And knowing you're doing it with ease.
To know that we have freedom of speech,
To down a president -- to even impeach --,
To be able to vote and have our way,
To know there's a chance to have our say.
America offers whatever you choose.
You can be great whether you win or lose.
You can even achieve a Pulitzer Prize
And accept it without any disguise.
America is built on faith and trust,
Not on sandy ground or dust.
It is the greatest place on earth.
I should know -- I've been here since birth.
Submitted by Otis Rainwater