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Saturday, March 31, 2012

Poem for the day

To celebrate National Poetry Month
Poems by writers in Chatham/Lee Counties.


cross over the line get shot dead

seventeen feet from stockade

that's cold Civil-War-man

how did the word cross into

our vernacular hop into everyday

use from a grim prison yard

to the desk of a newspaperman

wearing a visor to shade his eyes

from newsroom lights the glare

reflecting off the white page

light coming at him from

everywhere except the end

of the tunnel poor guy

a deadline a calendar date

seems like plenty of time

then suddenly not enough

the clock tick-tocking

the midnight oil a fire hazard

now a combustible’s involved

some like it hot but flames

well can be deadly what

escape from the yearning

to use this word dead to

death my father now dead

was a newspaperman

yellow ticker tape days

rewrote copy to fit page

before someone yelled PRINT

drank a 16 oz Coke straight

from the bottle when

his day was done on

the other side of deadline

yet alive

Mary L. Barnard

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