poetryrepairs #206 14.11:124
L.B. SEDLACEK : The Lawnmower Symphony
WENDY L. HAMMOND : The Man in the Moon
WENDY L. HAMMOND : Holy, Holy? ...War
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L.B. SEDLACEK The Lawnmower Symphony
The sound of the lawnmower is of comfort to some, like the ding of the microwave, the buzz of the alarm, the din of the TV.  All distractions taken for granted unless time becomes finite and saying goodbye the last choice left.

poetryrepairs #206 14.11:124

All the fine arts are species of poetry--Samuel Taylor Coleridge

poetry repairs your heart
even as it splits it open.
The Art of Reading

Our Dancing Poet Logo! FIND GIFT BUY GIFT @ http://www.zazzle.com/poetryrepairshop L.B. Sedlacek's poetry has appeared in print and online publications such as “Assisi Journal,” “Niederngasse,” “Wild Goose Poetry Review,”


The Man in the Moon
me and winston-salem fill the sky with smoke tonight, watching the rest of you stretch to wrap yourselves around the moon, and in the distance of broken light spots and streaks of repented sacrifice strip themselves of life and you believe you will be replenished if you ask forgiveness such starvation, thirst and hunger cannot measure against deprivation of spirit, the solitude and molestation of innocence and our children still believe in the man in the moon, dishes running away with spoons, and all convictions that make us foolish, because we teach them this each raised arm, each eye gazing upward demolishes the concept that any of us are really alone, and in this interaction, contact with unknown catalysts, we cling to heroes who aren't heroes at all we grow miles tall in our own disbelief that we are anything more than -this a large emptiness trying to fill each other

poetryrepairs #206 14.11:124

I have many things to write unto you but
I will not write with pen and ink
--JOHN the theologian

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WENDY L. HAMMOND Holy, Holy? ...War
Light cracks and smoke peels away the sky A wake-up call on Tuesday Mid-flight Manhattan Somewhere between one destination And retaliation toward human-kind Two planes strike A collision with twin towers A kamikaze, suicide mission Our symbols of power and strength fall, side by side One-hundred-ten stories - Decapitated before our eyes Incapacitated, We choke at the sight Fear for each life, and cry Run in all directions Poke each other to see if we're breathing Glue ourselves to the radio, the TV Shocked and seething America stands still Like her statue of liberty As all our nationalities Form one kind One state of the mind - United, we are more They call this A Holy war - This is evil's hatred And its disciples fighting There's no terror hiding Anywhere, in any cave That can conquer The land of the free And the home of the brave

October 2001
poetryrepairs #206 14.11:124

Poetry endangers the established order
of the soul - Plato

REPAIR: resort, frequent or habitual going; concourse or confluence of people at or in a place; making one's way; to go, betake oneself, to arrive; return to a place; to dwell; to recover, heal, or cure; to renew; to fix to original condition. -- O.E.D.

Amendment IV
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.


L.B. SEDLACEK : The Lawnmower Symphony
WENDY L. HAMMOND : The Man in the Moon
WENDY L. HAMMOND : Holy, Holy? ...War

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