The Dancer Poem by Seymour Shubin

dancers poem

The Dancer Poem


The Dancer Poem

I saw this so many years ago
On a school trip up the Hudson River to West Point.
This was before we got there
And the band was playing
And I looked into the large room on the deck
And saw her dancing.
Oh what a dancer! At one point
Her partner swung her so that the back of her head
Almost touched the floor.
And I remember a few days later
How, sitting in class next to her,
She asked if I would take her to the senior prom,
I who couldn’t dance a lick
And in my shock
I made up some excuse
And hating myself, for she was a beauty
As well as great dancer
And I even thought about it over the years
And then, finally, some sixty-five years later
In Death Notices in the morning paper
There she is, middle-aged-looking and still a beauty
And I wondered did she ever remember
Anything of that time,
Oh that time
That poor Wimpo can’t forget to this day


The Dancer Poem © Seymour Shubin 2013

Helium Addicition poem by Janet Kuypers

Helium Addicition (#002, He)

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series

Since I lost my job welding cars,
I thought I’d get my truck driving license
And make my money on the open road.

So when I applied for the truck driving job
for moving compressed Helium from California
to Maine, they asked if I could drive a truck…

When I said I could, they gave me the keys —
and the truck’s a beaut, with a bed
of nine cylinders of that precious Helium.

I hear there’s only so much Helium on Earth,
so I really had some precious cargo to haul.
Now, since I love driving and know how to weld…

I rented the tools and bought the tubing,
and after Arizona I had my rig set up
so I could do Helium hits while on the road.

I mean, I had nine huge tanks of Helium,
all compressed, it was like worker’s comp. You
can always skim off the top, they won’t notice.

Now, this made New Mexico and Texas really fun,
and I ignored the winds sweeping down the plains
of Oklahoma when I had my Helium.

But after Missouri, through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio,
the cops always pulled me over for erratic driving
(but I can’t let go of this Helium high!).

The cops would ask me for paperwork,
and I would happily comply. “You seem to be
driving erratically. Have you slept recently?”

“Yes sir, I’m just so excited, I love this job.”
And the cops looked at me funny before
writing me a warning and sending me on my way.

So I’d always look at my clock radio
and limit my Helium puffs to every time
I saw a good looking seat cover in a passing car —

but the hotties were few and far
between, so I’d check my clock radio
and puffed every seven minutes.

So when my Helium high subsided after only
seven seconds, and I still have seven states
before I could deliver my remaining Helium —

well, that’s when I drove north instead,
to go through Michigan, and leave my life —
and this country — with my precious.

And yeah, I’ll miss my family and friends,
but I’ve only scratched the surface
with my nine lives of Helium, and really,

that Helium high is really worth the world.

August Poem by Marilyn McIntyre



scorched lawns

trees turn brown with fright

holidays and beaches

and reparing to the cool


oppressive, painful despair

inside looking out

mugged breathe sweats

air of the great outdoors

cats sullen

blue jays drop their jays

crows to beat to caw


let me out of here


my mind curled like rock

drugged and writhing

soul up there at rest

in the crook of the old oak tree

Copyright © 1998 by Marilyn McIntyre, All rights reserved