LaVern Spencer McCarthy, “A Love Most Treasured”

When my husband died of cancer, I felt alone, and grief
stricken. He was my whole world, and my days without him were
sad. I missed him the most when I needed advice about various
problems and on cold, dreary nights when I wanted his loving arms
around me.
I spoke to my son, Allen, about how I felt, and he said,
“Mom, you need to get out more. Join a club or become a volunteer
for a good cause. It is not healthy, moping around the house all day
wishing things were better.”
I knew he was right, but being middle-aged, I felt it was too
late to start over. Also, in the rural area where I lived, there were
very few places that needed volunteers, and the only club around
was a crochet group of mostly widows. Also, there seemed to be
no eligible men. The ones I knew were either happily married or
looking for someone younger and more attractive.
After I had been single for around two years, and the initial
shock of being a widow had abated somewhat, a friend of mine
suggested I try online dating. I thought the idea was absurd, which
I found out later to be true. I was also very nervous about contacting
strange men even though it was by computer. Nevertheless, one
rainy, autumn night when I was feeling especially blue, I decided to
give it a try.
My first efforts were both comical and bizarre. A few times
I entered sites by mistake that were male seeking male or female
seeking female. There were grannies seeking grandpas, old men
seeking women half their age, and one time I was on a site where
gender did not matter. I was very confused for a while.
Then I stumbled onto a site that seemed to have possibilities.
Usually, women did not have to pay to send a message. They were
a draw to keep the site going and to keep the males paying to be
a member. I checked out several profiles and decided to contact
a few. I found that most were on the site to play games, lie and
see how vulgar they could be. Several regaled me with impossible
tales of their prowess in the bedroom after only a few minutes of
conversation. I was shocked by some of the remarks.
However, I decided to give one man a chance, as he lived not
too far from me. I agreed to meet him halfway for lunch in another
town. I was so excited! My first date in thirty years! I went to a salon
and had my hair professionally cut and tinted. I bought an attractive
dress to wear and got a pedicure. I wore my best, most seductive
perfume.
He had told me he was divorced. He also said that he
weighed one-hundred-eighty pounds. His nickname was Twister. I
pictured him as a muscular he-man who would take me in his arms
and be my love forever. When I met him in person. I discovered
he probably weighed at least three-fifty. He wore blousy-legged,
checkered shorts that ended at his hairy knees, turquoise socks and
red, running shoes. His belly hung over his belt and was not quite
covered by his tight T-shirt. His gray hair spiked in all directions.
When I inquired about his family, he accidentally let it slip that he
was married and living with his wife! He said it was a miracle she
let him out of the house that day.
When I asked him why he lied, he said he did it because
he knew I would not date him if I knew he was married. He was
right about that! He insisted that he was separated from his wife,
but they lived together for convenience. I ended the date before our
lunch orders appeared. Disgusting! Was this an example of what I
had to look forward to if I dated anyone else, I met online?
However, hope springs eternal to a determined woman. I
wanted to find a decent person to communicate with and possibly
have a relationship with. Bad luck struck again when I met a guy
from Texas. He drove a long way to meet me in person. He seemed
nice enough, but he was string-bean skinny and had a lung disease
that made him whinny like a horse. I felt he was too sick to date
anyone and told him goodbye as nicely as I could. At first, he was
downcast and then he became angry because I would not go to a
tavern with him. He roared out of Oklahoma on squealing tires.
Time moved on, and with it went my hope for love. Then
one day on a dating site I saw a profile of a man named Terry. He
lived in Kansas in a small town about three-hundred miles away.
He was willing to email me, and we also corresponded by phone.
He was in his early sixties like me and was a life-long bachelor. I
learned he was a security guard in a salt mine just outside of the
town where he lived. He seemed very decent and respectful. He
might be the one I was looking for, but I couldn’t be sure until I met
him in person. Terry did not seem too enthusiastic about meeting.
One time I emailed him for a week with no answer. My heart
was broken. I thought he was ghosting me. I decided to send him
one last message: Where are you, Terry? Is this goodbye forever?
That same day I received an email from him asking if I had received
his emails! That was the closest I came to ending our relationship.
We kept in contact for about six months. More and more
I felt that he was the one. Allen, who was between jobs, told me
he would be happy to take me to see Terry. He didn’t want me out
on that long road alone. After an eight-hour trip, we ended our
destination at a quaint little house in Kanopolis, Kansas. I was out
of the car before it had fully stopped, knocking on Terry’s door.
When he opened it, I grabbed him in a big bear hug, startling him.
He had been alone for many years. He looked as though
he was getting ready to run! It was hard, trying to differentiate the
reality of him from my fantasies. It took a while for the two to
coalesce. All I had before was his picture, which was professionally
made. Most of the other photos I had seen were of scruffy looking
characters who looked as though they hadn’t shaved or bathed for a
month! Terry had beautiful, wavy hair and blue green eyes. I loved
everything about him. He had a wonderful smile and was very calm
and caring. His keen sense of humor kept me laughing.
We visited each other back and forth for the next three
years. We wanted to get to know one another before we made a
commitment. He proposed to me at Quartz Mountain State Park
Lodge, about seven miles from my place of residence in Blair,
Oklahoma. Of course, I said ‘yes’ and wondered why he had waited
so long. Terry and I decided to make our home in Blair, where
we now reside. We were married at a church we both attended
in Altus, Oklahoma, a few miles from Blair. Several relatives and
friends attended. We went to the Bahamas for our honeymoon. We
have been married for fifteen years, and every moment has been
wonderful. As far as online dating goes, I feel it is not a good way to
meet someone. There are too many pitfalls, false profiles, and many
people like to hide behind their computers and spin fantastic lies,
but when I met Terry, I truly lucked out.

Hailey Stoner, “Happy Birthday, Baby”

I cup my hand around the wax number four atop the cupcake,
protecting the flame. I can still feel you, but it’s a stinging phantom
pain. Eyelashes tick my chest as you fall asleep to my heartbeat.
Tiny hands tug my pant leg, reaching for my fingers. The back door
slides open. “Up early today?” My ears ring with what I imagine
your first cry would’ve sounded like. First laugh. First, I love you. A
wind gust eats the flame, and I drop the cupcake into the trashcan
before he sees. Before we must start another day without you.

Sandra Newton, “Poetry Reading”

Keep your voice steady and strong
Show your adherence to the objective correlative
With a studied stoniness
And when you look up from your words
Swimming like slippery eels on the page
Stare with assertion that
You alone know what it’s all about.

.


But your eyes threaten tears
When the words committed to paper
Suddenly jump from the page to your mouth
To the charged air
To the strangers watching you
And your voice breaks
Like a wall built of sand
The particles falling steadily like
A broken sky.

.


Afterward it seems
The women have heard and easily echo
Some of your words that are shared
As if they were their own
And the men remark on what they liked
Having jotted down some phrases
As if they were clues to understanding women.

.


And you yourself realize that
Those words chose you
Plucking you from a whirlwind
And filling your mouth
With their magic
For which you can now be
Grateful.

Dr. Robin Witmer-Kline, “Behind the Gold”

I touched it once, with fingertips,
Too clumsy for a grasp
I had it for a moment
Like drinking poisoned flask

.


Exchange my soul for promises
Required barter’s band
From Mayan tombs the gold was dug
For diamonds African

.


Precisely fit to finger size
The liquid turned to sphere
No Alpha, no Omega,
Could make this prize adhere

.


Though time could never sweep the shine
From gold to black – I saw
Omniscient– with sight behind
The love that wasn’t spent

.


All riches do not yield reward
A soul may come up poor
Unless the gift behind the gold
Is made of purest ore

Jonathan Lacher, “Closed Form”

Some call me a closed-form elitist
And might ask of me to delete this
Though free-verse may be a purple rose
I will often say, “this could be prose”

.


Flowery words which at random break
Give me a feeling I just can’t shake
Stanzas that eschew a firm meter
Go with the Daughter of Demeter

.


On “lack of periods”, don’t be Harsh
My structure is clearer than a marsh
My words are bound precisely with twine
Showcased with breaks of stanza and line

.


All ascending alliterations
Dastardly driven derivations
Reinforce rapid repeating rhymes
That tell these things to temper their time

.


Free-verse cannot bring this form of art
Though those who write it may be quite smart
Pattern is what can be learned by heart
Closed-form shall always be set apart