Poet's Platform Column | 5 June 08 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

Brave Hearts They stormed the beaches at Normandy on a somber sixth of June, into the teeth of vicious shellfire, from a dug-in German platoon. From city, hamlet and farm they came; brave patriots who answered the call. They fought and died with hero’s zeal to win freedom for one and all. They came for the cause of liberty; a fierce enemy they dared engage. With sacrifice and bravery, gave their all— to defeat a tyrant’s rampage. The surf ran red with hero’s blood; but forward the brave hearts press’d to breech the forbidding sheer buttress and restore liberty to the war-oppressed. Through field and forest carried the fight to repel the invading horde; through rain and mud, cold and snow, relentless until peace was restored. We bow our head in gratitude for those who fought and died. Because of them, we live in peace, with the tyrant’s oppression—denied. Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio   Song of the Meadow Strolling through a verdant meadow, I hear music within my soul. The ripple of the waltzing grass Sings to me and makes me feel whole. Foxtail barley and Queen Anne’s Lace Sway in rhythm with the wind. My heart is in tune with the music Where the voices of the meadow blend. A bluebird rests on a barbwire fence, Then offers its soprano song. The chirping staccato of a chickadee Adds rhythm and tempo to nature’s throng. The strident voice of a raucous jay Is just a bit off-key, But the melding tunes of the meadow Sound perfectly right to me. The meadowlark comes to join the chorus, His happy song adds harmony. When I listen with a joyful heart— Nature sings her songs for me. Charles Clevenger New Boston   Morning Drama Beneath a curtain of morning mist, the meadow shimmers in mellow light. I reflect in quiet contemplation, to set free these words I write. The vibrant beauty of a summer meadow, ablaze with a galaxy of flowers fills my soul with peace and joy, here I linger for wistful hours. A bluebird preens in the morning light, costumed lupines dance and sway; my excited heart jumps for joy— as nature’s symphony tunes up to play. Alone here at nature’s stage, the curtain is about to rise. The drama of a summer morning unfolds in majesty before my eyes. Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio