Living Proof (by Bez W.)

Living Proof

Living on earth
The inevitable is forgotten
Starting from birth
Religion is loosing its grip
Children are finding new interests
Modern technology has won over their hearts and minds

How can people say there isn’t a God?
Maybe they haven’t seen love on earth
Or the white dove floating above

If one suffers the loss of faith
Take a plane across the sky
And witness the vastness of the clouds passing by
Notice the sun, bright as can be
Science can not explain these things to me

In the past, the church taught society
The greatness and capabilities of God
That was created to worship him and say grace

If we look around us
Everything is proof that he created us
I am not afraid to say
I love and appreciate the things he does for me
day to day

Maybe I haven’t convinced anyone
But I can never turn my back on God’s only son
He will remain in my heart forever
For I am not letting go
Not today, not tomorrow

Bez W.
York, PA

Family Flaws (by Bez W.)

Family Flaws

Tears, tears drip on the mattress leaving perspiration
Like spears with harsh penetration
This shakes and has potential to break the foundation
The children come to wipe the tears away
Begging the mother to stay, just one more day

Family must work through the problems
Fighting exposes each thorn of emotion
Revealing the unwanted feelings
Then the family can begin the healing
And find a solution
To the hurt and confusion

We can fight today
Discuss our point of view tomorrow
And stay irate throughout the week
But when the sun is hidden behind the dark cloud
We always return to our humble home
Looking for comfort
Because outside we are all alone

Bez. W
York, PA

10 North Beaver Street (by Bill Diskin)

10 North Beaver Street

I step out the door
Into the street
side-stepping the old man sitting
On the curb

Dark clouds dot the fall sky
Puzzle pieces floating
Over rooftops of reclaimed store fronts

“How will you get the adults to write poetry?”
They had asked upstairs,
Fluorescent light flooding the room
White

I reach for my car keys
Stepping out of the headlight path
of the city bus rolling by
blowing my pantlegs with its dusty,
noisy bus-wind

Crouching into my car,
I sneak a look back at the curb
man, sitting
“PLEASE HELP” scribbled politely on his cardboard
And in his eyes

“Is that poetry?” I wonder,
Turning left below lingering bus smoke
clinging to the air above the street,
Another puzzle piece
in a city of questions.


Bill Diskin
9 November, 2004
(still working on this one…)

Hey York! Write here!

Consider this the inaugural entry in the new YorkWrites blog. In coming weeks, months, and years, this will be a gathering place for some of York, Pennsylvania's newest, freshest, and most compelling writing. So, here it begins. Send me your submissions at wdiskin@ycds.org and I will publish them here!