Home

Summer 2007

Spring 2007

Winter 2007

Autumn 2006

Summer 2006

Spring 2006

Winter 2006

Fall 2005

Summer 2005

Editor's Note

Guidelines

SNR's Writers

Contact




My First and Last Poem for Christ

The Christians arrived today, just as they
always do every Saturday night
to feed

the homeless.

I'd truly forgotten what it's like
to eat a holiday meal.

It was a Memorial Day weekend
inside cook-out.

Hot dogs with baked beans,
collared greens,
and mashed potatoes with plenty

of beef gravy.

The Christians are like
clock-work.

They make certain everyone's dish is
piled high
and that every man gets
seconds and sometimes

thirds.

The Christians never ask
for anything in return
except for a thank you
and a hearty handshake
as hearty as -

the dinner.

I know they secretly wish they
could save some
of us along the way,
as any practicing Christian might
be inclined

to do.

They're all hoping we'll eventually
see the light,
and come -

to Jesus.

And although none of
the men,
including me
may ever accept Jesus Christ as
a personal Lord and Savior
what with all the beans they
fed us,
a good amount of us may
very well see plenty of
lights flashing on and off late
tonight
while shouting Christ's
name -

out loud.



As the Bridge Turns

There are those
days
when the bus ride into
town seems

rather lengthy.

It's always a
longer excursion
when the bridge
turns sideways,
to make room for boats
and ships passing
through,
and you're
surrounded by

screaming kids.

I suppose they
get impatient,
too -
but I also suspect my
list of things to do
is a bit more
urgent and
complex

than theirs.

Of course,
there are also
those days
when the bridge remains
twisted longer than
usual,
allotting enough time
and space
for multiple passing

vessels.

By the time it finally
does close and
I've taken a
few extra deep
breaths,
the kids have usually
ceased,
seemingly that -

much older.







Copyright 2007, Bob Boston. © This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws.
It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.



Bob Boston is a poet living and composing on the East Coast. His work has appeared in Silenced Press, The Sundown Lounge, and The Nubian Chronicles. Bob quit high school in 1985, received his GED in 1995, and went on to achieve his Masters. Some people just get off to a bumpy, uncertain start.