1 3902019 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     m2) 
     
    
   
   
    
     Life is like a fine gold chain ‘ 
     
     A precious gift of’the earth 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
    
   
   
    
     On a tree 
     
    
   
   
    
     Some are short and fragile 
     
     Some are long and sturdy 
     
    
   
   
    
     There are some 
     
     You can hang unto 
     
    
   
   
    
     There are others 
     
     Easily broken 
     
    
   
   
    
     Raw 8: crude in origin 
     
    
   
   
    
     But if treated with care 
     
     by a master craftsman ~ 
     
     it is turned into a thing , 
     
    
   
   
    
     of beauty 
     
    
   
   
    
     Just as that fine gold chain 
     
     is delicate —— simple 
     
    
   
   
    
     so is life. 
     
     But there 
     
    
   
   
    
     Which, together 
     
     Form a trunk 
     
    
   
   
    
     Nov. 78 I 
     
    
   
   
    
     are other chains 
     
    
   
   
    
     complicated ones 
     
    

    
     full of life’s tangles 
     
    

    
     Some which are never released 
     
     but tortured forever. 
     
    

    
     As that gold chain 
     
    

    
     encircles my throat 
     
    

    
     life encircles me 
     
    

    
     Tightening by unseen hands 
     
     Cutting ‘off my last breath , 
     
    
   
   
    
     ' of life. 
     
    
   
   
    
     DEBBIE BRINE 
     
    
   
   
    
     @ 
     
    
   
   
    
     WM 
     
    
   
   
    
     ODE TO MY FRIEND 
     
    
   
   
    
     Hi Pal 
     
     You no longer depend on me. 
     
     My food, shelter, and love for you, no more! 
     
     And the companionship I received from you, 
     
     Well, . . . there can be no encore. 
     
    
   
   
    
     I watched you grow up 
     
     As you did me. 
     
    

    
     But you grew the quicker 
     
     Because of your society. 
     
    
   
   
    
     We’d go .fishing, exploring and played hide-n-seek 
     
    

    
     l was always the master, but you, never weak 
     
    

    
     You were conditioned; some vocabulary you knew. , 
     
     You could never speak it, but I could understand you. 
     
    
   
   
    
     They say my world must go on, onward bound! 
     
    

    
     But the love I have had for you, will never be f0und. 
     
     Just 16 years old, then my world you did part. 
     
    

    
     And all you were, was my dog, my rex, my heart. 
     
    
   
   
    
     As it has been confirmed by most men 
     
     You truly are man’s best friend! 
     
    
   
   
    
     Good-bye . . . Pal 
     
    
   
   
    
     FOR SPECIAL FRIENDS 
     
    
   
   
    
     , Each'branch is a friendship 
     
    
   
   
    
     - Then, there are the few 
     
    
   
   
    
     MARGARET COMEAU 
     
    
   
   
    
     Here it is, the dawn of a new day 
     
     _I can hear the wind 
     
    

    
     -as it blows throurzh the trees. 
     
     lt_ has a mournful sound 
     
     It’s lonely out there 
     
    

    
     all on its own 1 
     
     looking for someone _ 
     
    

    
     to listen to it 
     
    

    
     to want it 
     
    

    
     to need it 
     
    

    
     to love it 
     
    

    
     I am like the wind 
     
    

    
     on the dawn of this new day 
     
    
   
   
    
     DEBBIE BRINE 
     
     6:00 a.m. 
     
    
   
   
    
     TODO Y NADA ‘ 
     
    
   
   
    
     I walked in a trance of cold crispnessysuhand. noise, 
     
     When it jumped into my eye —  “‘1  
     
     A dead cat, stretched out stiff and..,froiefi.. 
     
     My heart stumbled, r I . 
     
     But my feet ‘passed by before it could'fzfli? 
     
    
   
   
    
     I recall; 
     
    
   
   
    
     ._A walk home. . l 
     
    
   
   
    
     I passed her by in silence, 
     
     Afraid to say hello, V A — ~_ 
     
     For fear it was someone I didn’t  
     
    
   
   
    
     Death is a mirror, - 
     
     That reflects the hole in us. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The whole in us, 
     
     Is life unchained. -‘ 
     
    
   
   
    
     When may we love, . 
     
     If not- in the all and nothing of right,nqw3 
     
    
   
   
    
     GERRY LASKEY 
     
     18 November 1978; 
     
    
   
   
    
     Here it is, the da'wfirof a"'new day 
     
     I can hear the wind T? l 
     
    

    
     as it blows through The trees 
     
    

    
     It has a mournful. sound 
     
    
   
   
    
     How peaceful it is‘now- 
     
     The air is crisp and fresh 
     
     The wind moansthrough the trees 
     
     Birds are just waking: up now 
     
    

    
     ~ I‘ hear their first awakening songs 
     
     The crickets sing too! 
     
     but they soon will be silent 
     
     For they talk through the night 
     
     Soon they will be silent 
     
     As I will be ‘ 
     
    
   
   
    
     DEBBIE BRINE 
     
     6:30 a.m.