Lake Cane Poetry Archives
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Winter Swim
By Kemrey Butler
Eyes barely open
Steam rising off water
Cold tingling on skin
Water Seen
By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Pastel hues of orange and yellow gently herald sunrise;
morning lifts its misty veil from water’s edge.
browns, blacks, whites
varying sizes and shapes
indigenous or immigrant
birds of a feather…
go their separate ways seeking delights that lie below the surface.
Heads and/or bodies submerge
surface somewhat satisfied
but one, unidentified caring heart
silently signals “There’s great eating over heeeere!”
their differences aside
they come together
to feed from the underwater abundance;
demonstrating there can be harmony among us.
The Mermaids of Lake Cane
By Michael Zahn
“Mermaids at night, sailors take fright.”
(Ancient adage that I just made up.)
Many a sailor has gone insane
upon spying the mermaids of Lake Cane.
After a night of too much beer,
these sailors claim that they can hear
the mermaids sing in tones divine:
“Do not fear, the water’s fine.”
In dead of night, in full moonlight,
the mermaids lure the sailors in
with flips of their tails and saucy grins.
As legend tells it, the sailors succumb
because they’re drunk (and also dumb).
Next morning, the sailors wake in their beds
with soaking wet clothes and huge throbbing heads.
Ask them what happened, you’ll only get groans
and pleas that you speak in much gentler tones.
The fable ends here, the moral is clear:
If, while drinking too much Yuengling,
you think that you hear mermaids singing,
and it sets your senses tingling,
let those feelings slide right past.
Ahoy! Avast! A midnight splash would be half-mast.
Batten your hatches! Put down all beers, including Pabst.
Don’t lose your head, set sail for bed,
‘cause the mermaids of Cane are creations to dread.
Myst’ry Bog
By Laura Cole
I have a story, oh, to tell
That many oft have whispered still
It’s ‘bout a man who legend speak
But myst’ry does so ‘round him leak…
If ever were one should to ask
No, best, if you should better bask
Within the deep dark watery bog
Should find yourself that gruesome log…
Don’t worry, ah, he cackles so
The water’s fresh, now in you go
But once you enter, soon you’ll know
You’re the bait for his new show…
Lake Cane is our cathedral.
By Michael Zahn
Lake Cane
is our cathedral.
The wild creatures
are our choir.
They sing of Cane
a sweet refrain.
They speak in tongues,
but this is what they surely say:
Fill this lake with love
for those below
and those above.
Let all enjoy
and play
and pray
and work unceasingly
day after day
to ensure
that Cane stays pure
so its allure
will endure.
Storms of Life
By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Seasonal contests wage between storm clouds and sunset…
Darkening shades of gray, hints of black sit heavy,
Pushing down forcibly upon the streaks and stripes of soft pinks, faint purples and
inevitable feisty oranges that mark day’s end…
But even clouds fully-laden with turbulent, uncharted waters of challenge and change,
Threatening the status-quo
Must surrender…
…to the colorful palate that resurrects itself as sunrise.
©2011 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
Photo: Life’s Burdens
Ruskin, FL
October 1, 2020
Flow
By Samia Diouri
I want flow like water,
Find my path of least resistance,
Recognition of my reflection in others,
In the ripples of consciousness,
Know my soul is a drop in the ocean,
And my love is a river,
My wounds are but canyons etched over time,
I let go and resign to the rain filled valleys,
And surrender to the divine.
Be Free
By Andria Hoag
Toes in the water
Wild life teeming all around
Freedom awaits you
The Corona-cation Chronicles Day Thirty-six
By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill
There is calm in a rain
that keeps one still;
drizzle or deluge
off leaves drops spill.
And when the rain stops,
there’s calm there, too.
On a drip tip rests
a watery bijou.
My eyes are riveted
on this delicate balancing act;
calm in anticipation
of its longevity protract.
And just like that,
the droplet falls to the ground
where it does the most good
and in this my calm is most profound.
© June 2020 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill