literature

LITERATURE POEMS Diana You were that special light in my day. Just a little bit of your sunshine gave me happiness. It was that smile. The feeling of your presence. The secret of your essence. The way the wind called out your name. Maybe it was the things we had in common. It's hard to describe it. You had these wondering eyes. Eyes that could see the world. I know that you have a piece of my life. You gave me enough strength to go on. The song still remembers your name. You had so many dreams. Dreams that were taken away by an illusion. A second chance wasn't given. It was a final decision. Now I will never forget you. Will you ever come back? Will I see you again? To me you were more than a friend. Slaved by her parents. You always thought everybody was your friend. Couldn't distinguish who was your villain and who was your friend. Last night I dreamed you came back and you told me you had gotten your life together. In another dream I saw you, but when I touched you, you were someone else. I hope you are ok. Deep in my heart something whispers and tells me you will come back. I didn't even get to say good bye. I miss you. I love you.                                                                 By Roberto Carlos Martinez                                                                                     Annoying love
                                                            You tell me a lot about your annoying love.
                                                               Your smile reminds me of the stars above.
                                                                        As I lay down I look at the sky.
                                                                            I begin to ask myself why.
                                                                        Is there ever a meaning to life? That is my last thought as I slowly die.                                             By Peter Larkin KISS OF DEATH Thine love is like a cool winter breeze on a summers eve. your so fragrant in my eyes though thy don't know about yours can they feel what i feel or do you. can i know thy whisper is yours. i look into your eyes and see everything i hope to have. here come i the one that's hand was taken by yours i cannot help but to let you take me away, away to where know one can here me cry as I give the kiss of death. no body knows no one suspects. i took thy life then gave another. i didn't mean to but i had to feed on thy love.                     By Susan Reno CONTRATULATIONS TO ROBERTO CARLOS MARTINEZ FOR WINNING WITH HIS POEM "A HEAVENLY PLACE." HIS POEM WAS VOTED THE BEST POEM IN LAST ISSUES'S LITERATURE SECTION. THIS POEM HAD MOST OF THE VOTES AND SOMEBODY SAID "I liked most the poem made by Roberto Carlos Martinez ,the others are good too , but i feel something different in this one , something that makes this poem maybe more sincere than the others ..." TO THOSE WHO MISSED IT, HERE IS THE POEM ONCE MORE. A heavenly place We were poor, but had piece and dignity. I almost drowned. Mother would hit me with a stick covered with thorns. I met reach people who were fancy. Grandpa would grab his whip and whip me. Waves almost took you away. The beach was full of rocks. Family members looked pretty stupid with fake smiles. Uncle would caress me and I felt safe. New people made your lives better. Sometimes I cried of hunger. We were poor, but in peace. I wasn't judged because of my skin color or race. I considered it a heavenly place.                            By Roberto Carlos Martinez SHORT STORIES BEWARE YOU HAVE ENTERED THE PSYCHIATRISTS OFFICE Its not like I don't care about people, it's that I don't care about these people. I know, I know now you think me a bad therapist, I'm not here let me explain.     First there is Shelia, who is afraid to go out her house, how she got to my office, is besides me. She paints a picture of milk. Tall, blonde and pale. Shelia walked in to my office one day, head down, hair covering much of her face dressed in black. Her mom hung on to her arm as if she was the one who needed therapy. Her mom spoke most of our first visit, and immediate I knew Shelia's problem. I explained to her mom “Were not here to blame anyone at all” while I wrote her mothers’ name on a sheet of paper and circled it many times. Her visits were sporadic at first then calmly became more precise. During our many visits I found out that Sheila's parents home schooled her and she never had really any social life out of the house, so why should she leave?   I came to the conclusion that this fear of not leaving the house stemmed from her mothers’ problem Of wanting Shelia out of the house, since she was almost 27. But Shelia knew what was on the out side and didn't want to explore more than was necessary. She had her books, movies and music to entertain her. I thought it was funny but I kept that mostly to myself.     Then of course there is Mr. Lawrence who thought he was still in World War one. The weird part is that he wasn't alive even for the second one. He bang his little water pistol at me when he would get made at something I said to him. For example I told him to take his camouflage bonnet off He snapped back at me” Its not a bonnet it's a civil crown.” Well it sure looked like the bonnets in the old days’ opulent ladies wore to church. It had leaves, dirt and things growing out of it. I waited for about ten minutes before I knew nothing was going to fly out or in to it. He was tuff, guff and mean, or o he thought. You know that dork at every high school that thinks he's amazing and god's gift to women. That was Mr. Lawrence. Who insisted that I call him Sergeant when I was in is presence. He was in my office because he had shot, with his water pistol, a woman who made him mad For chewing gum the wrong way unluckily she was wearing a white blouse and sued him for sexual harassment. I was the only psychiatrist who wasn't at his hearing so I got stuck with domestic duty. Hey, at least the state of Idaho pays on time.     Usually I tell my patients to work on their problems and try to make their communication with people besides their family, pets, or the dead. But for these people I get farther when I tell them to make a list of things that are going wrong with their life on one side of paper then draw a line, and write everybody who you know or wish to know, and viola just connect side a with side b. Even in my deranged mind, this isn't very responsible, but hey it works with crazy people.     This certain individual is quite certain she is being followed by, little green men. I just think she's nuts. My convential method wouldn't work. Like she knew any body. And my luck she would put Caption Kirk and blame him for her life. Recently I learned that her dad was a bank president and sent her money to live on. Oh what a hard life she led. When she sidled in my office she was very paranoid, looking every where, eyes flicking back and forth from the door and me. She mumbled “ good there not here” I shook my head inside and thought, “ here we go again, why do I get stuck with all the crazy people.                                                              Short story by Amanda Veidt

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