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.

THIS RUSTY OLD NAIL
The shadow of an old cross
And this rusty old nail
Reminds us of our iniquities
And Christ's suffering and travail.
When wearing a crown of thorns
Nailed to that cross of wood,
He paid for our earthly sins
As only He knew He could.
A symbol of His love for us
He gave all He had to give,
The teachings He left behind,
Giving His life that we might live.
Let this rusty old nail be cause
To renew a faith grown cold,
To polish our rusty old halos
And reach for our crown of gold.
by Dorothy Miller Birdwell

DO YOU SEE WHAT I SEE?
The other day, I happened by chance,
As I passed a mirror, to give it a glance.
And I wondered who that old man could be.
Who, with his mouth wide open
Was looking at me?
His bald head was sprinkled
With a little gray fuzz,
And he wasn't at all handsome
(Like I always was.)
He looked like a sack of mismated parts,
Put together without aid of
Instructions or charts.
And while I know that my
Shoulders don't slump,
This person's were mis-shapen in one ugly hump!
Now, if that was my image, I only can say,
They don't make mirrors
Like they did in my day.
Submitted by Otis Rainwater

GOD'S GIFTS
God is so awesome.
Awesome is He.
He makes the mountains bow down,
He calms the raging sea.
He picked an angel from Heaven,
And gave him straight to me.
by Katrina Edwards

FOG . . .
Landscape changed by mists that surrounds
Fanciful figures freed from bounds.
There, that ship, will it sail away
Where once great trees did bend and sway?
A ghostly movement, crept then surged
Face, eyes, -- my cat, feasted then purred.
Engulfed, enshrouded, things I cannot see,
Warped wisps, obscure shapes shifting, beguiled me.
Fun fantasies anticipated
Bewitched fun `til fog dissipated.
by Mariana Neff Pankratz