Featured Poets

Aloha, I’m John Baumann. I am a student at Saint Mary’s Hall in San Antonio, where I learn everything relevant and irrelevant that is taught. Basketball, baseball, lacrosse, school, Boy Scouts and educating myself on the guitar are how I spend my teenage days. Outgoing, knowledgeable, clever, athletic, mature, immature and goofy are the adjectives I choose to describe myself. In terms of future plans, there are none with this exception: I was born and bred in city lights, but hopefully someday I’ll reside in a small, country town . . . if there are any left. Here's the song [bottom] I wrote last weekend. I got the idea for this song from my grandpa's boat.

I take note of upcoming rain and how I despise it so, along with the realization that if the sheriff catches me, I’ll be in a chain, I know.

Ella is a recent graduate of Kerrville Tivy High School. She's made quite a splash in the Hill Country as an actress. She'll next be seen in the Point Theatre production of A Christmas Carol. One of her favorite pasttimes is writing songs, and she's graced us with one of them here.

Gee, you're reading my bio. You're just cute and a half! Well I'm but 17 years of age and an Aquarius. I like old people's faces and waking up in the middle of the night in order to experience the thrill of getting back into bed. Penguins are hilarious, blisters on one's tongue are not and I am unpublished (well, other than here).

Michael Lang is a teenager living in Seattle,Washington. He writes poetry in his free time, while enjoying other events such as basketball and playing the viola. Recently he has written to local papers trying to expand his views on political events and the war in Iraq. After being honored at a downtown Seattle Rotary Club for his efforts in creating political dialogue, he has been trying to find other ways of expanding his views on various subjects, mostly in life and politics, and he has found poetry as his way to speak his mind to fellow peers and to others.


	The Black Widow & The Brown Recluse \| home Locker Room Writers and Thinkers Workshop \| Poet of the Moment \| Featured Poets \| Poets from the Past \| Story of the Moment \| Featured Stories \| Stories from the Past \| About the Artist \| Artists from the Past \| Info about Submissions \| Other Events \| Related Links \| The Kerrville Book Festival \| Contact the Magazine \| Index to Issues Online Featured Poets John Baumann San Antonio, Texas Aloha, I’m John Baumann. I am a student at Saint Mary’s Hall in San Antonio, where I learn everything relevant and irrelevant that is taught. Basketball, baseball, lacrosse, school, Boy Scouts and educating myself on the guitar are how I spend my teenage days. Outgoing, knowledgeable, clever, athletic, mature, immature and goofy are the adjectives I choose to describe myself. In terms of future plans, there are none with this exception: I was born and bred in city lights, but hopefully someday I’ll reside in a small, country town . . . if there are any left. Here's the song [bottom] I wrote last weekend. I got the idea for this song from my grandpa's boat. Riding On Along Riding on along, the dust at my brow, the winds bending my haughty hat with a taunting howl. Riding on along, the clouds accumulate, taking time from the sun but he’ll get another date. Henceforth I ride, yet with no pride for I stole this here horse and gun alongside. I take note of upcoming rain and how I despise it so, along with the realization that if the sheriff catches me, I’ll be in a chain, I know. Riding on along, shamefully bent, I take action to stop and construct my tent. But in the process, the rain tumbles down, and I see the sheriff and co. riding toward me from town. I scamper to the mare and gallop away, seldom I look back, but noticing the sheriff’s party has gone the wrong way. For the rain has made me invincible, alas for another day Riding on along, I take in a breath; satisfied the lawmen didn’t catch me in the wrong. JFK Daunted by childhood diseases Scarlet fever to whooping sneezes Victim of jaundice twice in his collegiate career But finished out all right at Stanford, when it looked like the end was near Navy man of the unlucky PT-109, but saved a man by swimming him to land Departed the Navy for politics Age 29, congressman for Massachusetts Age 43, youngest and first Catholic Commander-In-Chief among other Presidents Crisis in Berlin, Civil Rights, Bay of Pigs, Cuban Missile Crisis, Cabinet Enduring all these challenges of incredible size, Profiles In Courage, Pulitzer Prize He still had time for family, taking them on his boat and getting them wet And though it all ended in 63’ on a street in Dallas This man belongs in more than a political palace Seasick Girlfriend We’d been dating for almost a year When I took her out on my dad's boat And I didn’t know what I was getting in to When that stuff came up from her throat Yeah it started when we were about 10 miles out, on international waters I had cooked her up a delicious dinner and poured us some fine wine But I knew things had taken a turn for the worse when she said I don’t feel so fine Her face turned white and pasty, she was belching and groaning non-stop And when she ran to the side of that boat, I saw that fine dinner drop She was seasick, yeah seasick; she couldn’t handle it at all And after she threw up that meal I'd made, I just sat there and started to bawl So next time that you are out sailing, be careful of who you bring along Because with a land loving person, you never know what could go wrong Ella Johnson Kerrville, Texas Ella is a recent graduate of Kerrville Tivy High School. She's made quite a splash in the Hill Country as an actress. She'll next be seen in the Point Theatre production of A Christmas Carol. One of her favorite pasttimes is writing songs, and she's graced us with one of them here. tony gallucci, 30 November 2002 song: untitled Just despite you I won't write about your face now baby I feel you're letting go So just despite you I'll try hard not to think about the love in your eyes I know you let that go too Disregarding all your sympathy These wrinkles on my face Reflect who knows I've always needed to reach this tearing place Oh this tearing, tearing place Wonder if you ever sing my songs anymore Why should you The only thing I want right now Is to have never known you How could you let me live for only you Never wrote about you when I was happy You have always struck these minor chords in me So just despite you I wrote down these words Cause it caught my breath when I saw you Laughing with her Acting carelessly now baby I've got to go Cause you know that won't ever fully, fully know What it means What you meant to me oh no What did I mean to you Break each other's hearts We'll always break each other's hearts So the only thing I want right now Is to have never known you But I know you Heard them say That if you truly love someone You'll let him You'll let them go And you know that it's true Ryan Mellon Bend, Oregon Ryan is a 17 year old student at Bend Senior High School. This is his first publication. tony gallucci, 30 November 2002 Gee, you're reading my bio. You're just cute and a half! Well I'm but 17 years of age and an Aquarius. I like old people's faces and waking up in the middle of the night in order to experience the thrill of getting back into bed. Penguins are hilarious, blisters on one's tongue are not and I am unpublished (well, other than here). Reflected Apathy I'm falling off of a cliff today But so far I haven't cried I've just sort of watched it all As my paralyzed body flies There's almost something peaceful About this dreamy descent A gentleness, a resolution My mind, hauntingly content Slowly I'm outstretching an arm And closing my dark soft eyes I'll embrace this death before me I'll escape the trials, the hurt, the lies Falling faster and faster and faster The winds scream laughter and laughter at me No tears flowing and flowing and flowing This world is going and going oh well There's no stopping no stopping no stopping No point in sobbing and sobbing for me Death comes closer and closer and closer And closer and closer and closer I fell off of a cliff today But the whole way down I never cried I just sort of watched it all And thought about your apathy Beacon I could swear I saw something holy Amongst the mindless dribble, A reflective moment of pure intentions But then it sank beneath the waves. I scanned those eyes for another hint Of a soul, a sleeping beauty But all I saw were reflections, A world distorted by a vapid stare. Michael Lang Seattle, Washington Michael Lang is a teenager living in Seattle,Washington. He writes poetry in his free time, while enjoying other events such as basketball and playing the viola. Recently he has written to local papers trying to expand his views on political events and the war in Iraq. After being honored at a downtown Seattle Rotary Club for his efforts in creating political dialogue, he has been trying to find other ways of expanding his views on various subjects, mostly in life and politics, and he has found poetry as his way to speak his mind to fellow peers and to others. Michael is 13 years old and a student at Whitman Junior High School in Seattle. tony gallucci, 30 November 2002 The Real You I don't care who ya think I am, How I act, and who I be, I don't care whatchu think I want, Cuz all I ever wanted was to be me. But all you wanna be is someone else, Someone who doesn't know themself, So you keep walkin that swagga and posin that strut, Until the end of you life has just begun. And ya'll think I care? `Bout your shiny shoes and the clothes you wear? `Bout your pretty girl and yo perfect hair? I swear! Boy you ain't gotta clue, Betchu don't see half a the things you do, Goin around grabbin yo girls, and pushin us back, You don't know the half of what it means to pick up the slack. Cuz you're you, made uppa everythin we wanna do, Made uppa everthin except you, isn't that true? You look at yourself, you tell me what you see, Is that face in the mirror all you wanna be? Do you see everything you wanted to see? Are you free? No. You're tortured down deep, So much so that you just want the eternal sleep, You wanna quit, you wanna die, you just wanna stop, You wanna fall to the bottom `stead a goin to the top. So are you sure you wanna keep doin the things you do? Keep lyin to your friends, your family, to you? You want something better? You want something true? You really want somethin' better to do? Then seek the truth where its always been, Underneath the lies, the coverups, the sin, Go somewhere where there's no nothing but true, And then you see it right outta the blue, The thing you've been gunnin for, that something that's true, That something you wanna be, that you wanna do….. It's you. Be All You are Told to Be Dust all around, only enemy flesh you see, Hands clenched, still on one knee, Blood on the ground, tears in your eyes, Watching your friend where he lies. His eyes are looking up at you, You pretend he’s watching your ever move, Yet his dead eyes are just looking through, Looking for nothing, giving up truth. Gun in hand, sweat still dripping, Eyes still wet, heart still skipping, Rain falling down, disguise soaken, "Man down," heart still broken. History gone, future broken, Hate prevails, Truth left unspoken, And when its over, all you see, Are the words that they told you to be. And when its over, and all the blood spilled, And after the count of the living now killed, After you go home to live once again, You see now that the world is bathed only in sin. You watch as young ones grow to old, Warm days go to cold. And as years go to dying days, Life goes their separate ways. You look back on the old times, Counting back the days in your old eyes, Remembering your worthless tries, At trying to save the friend you watched die. You begin to drift off once again, Counting down the days, recounting the sins, Thinking of that dead man, your only friend, Coveting the one moment of freedom: the end. And as your world slips into eternal night, As reality slips from mortal sight, You think to yourself as to what it all meant, What was the cost for all the blood spent? What did all the hate represent? What was the reason for all the torment? Why were all the people killed? Why was all the blood spilled? If only you knew what it really meant: War is death’s only intent. The Battle Call -- A Soldier's Despondent The day is black, the nights are dead, Life gets better, that's what they said, So they walk down the road that leads to no end, The war goes on for all the dead men, Death exudes from their tired dead soul, As the smoke rises from the bullet hole, Eyes roll back as they understand, That their life was but a pinch of sand. Meaning is what meaning does, Life was death and hate was love, Money was their only life to fight for, Their leader's greed the mark they all bore, And as the smoke cleared from the skin they wore, And as they stepped through the golden door, They knew the truth of the war they fought, They knew now the touch of the death they brought, The pain they carried to the victims of sin, They didn't know what it was to them, Pain was slow and death was long, The bitter end a beautiful song, They didn't see what they had done, To the mothers and fathers and daughters and sons, Skin and country mattered no more, Ignorance triggered their hateful scorn, No more they knew what they sought to fight for, And so death lived rich and life died poor. So the story goes to tell them all, Greed commences the battle call, And calls them all to walk on tall, For the battle begins where they will fall, The call tells them to fight for their sake, But teaches them to crush all in their wake, To thrust the sword of Hell into all, To commence the mighty battle call, To tell one and many to all bow down, To the night-black darkness of the crown.