Poetry

Doc Meisenheimer

By Laura Cole

There once was a doc Meisenheimer,
Who sat with his friends at the diner,
He said with a quip,
Come on friends take a dip
In Lake Cane for you’ll be all the finer!

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Whose lake this is . . .

By Michael Zahn

“The individual property owners whose holdings surround Lake Cane have vested property rights in the lake itself” — quote from “Water Rights in Florida”

Whose lake this is, I think I know:
The residents that swim below
or ride the pulsing winds that blow
and stir the waves where others ride
and rustle weeds where sly ones lurk
(and shy ones hide)

Whose lake this is, I think I know —
we see their spoor
and hear their caws and croaks,
their screeches, hoots and grunts and growls,
their pants and burps and barks and howls
(beware their hisses and their snarls)

Whose lake this is, I think I know:
Creatures who possess no title,
no paper trail, no deed on file.
Though the lake’s their domicile,
they cannot claim their rights at trial.
They cannot swear an oath
in court of law
by raising fin or wing or paw.
Their testimony goes unheard
for lack of speech, for lack of word
while progress ever shrinks their world.
Admit it! They’re the rightful heirs!
Their stake should be no mystery:
their presence throughout history.
(But lawyers wearing fancy shoes
won’t take clients that pee and poop
wherever they choose)

Whose lake this is, let’s all agree —
it isn’t you, it isn’t me.
We all share its biology
with organisms great and small.
And yet we’ve used it as our own,
a playground — and a garbage dump.
Swimmers and boaters remain enticed
while our fertilizers stifle life.
Pesticides and herbicides and runoff, too —
we’ve filled the water with such goo!
The beasts of water, air and earth
are begging us for its rebirth.
We humans are the curse of Cane
and also its redemption.
(We can make it right again
for mutual salvation!)

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Tasty Morsel

By Danielle Zepess

I lurk

I rise

I lunge

I feast

savoring this tasty treat

It starts

It cries

It flails

It groans

as my teeth crunch up its bones

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Advice from a fellow swimmer

By Michael Zahn

As you crawl through fog, wind, waves and wakes,

on Cane or any other lakes,

don’t assume the boaters see you!

You might wear orange,

you might wear yella,

but you are still invisible, fella!

The boaters don’t mean to clip your ass,

but you are slow and they are fast.

So please show caution, give right of way

and live to stroke another day.

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Unashamed

By Michael Zahn

Too fat to be a swimmer?
Stupid, foolish prattle!
Look at the bodies of the folks
who swim the English Channel

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What about alligators?

By Michael Zahn

The lake’s an invitation —
take it if you dare!
Afraid today? No will to stay?
Tomorrow she’ll still be there.

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Lovers’ Quarrel

By Michael Zahn

The water never lies to me,
it slaps and pushes back.
I have to say its honesty
is an aphrodisiac

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Candy Cane

By Michael Zahn

This little lake can take me
where no one else can go.
I kick and stroke and breathe and hope
and set my world aglow!

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