Amtrack speeding along the rails.
Amtrack,
I so love
sways gently to and fro.The train out of Chicago
was a double decker
so I climb the circular stairway
to the observation car.
Amtrack was trying to make time after a 3 hour delay in chicago.
I make my way to the dining car
and order a vegen dish
then make my way back down the stairs and to the club car.
I get to enjoy a cigarette there
and someone treats me to a Gin and Tonic.
Not being a drinker,
I take a tasten and leave the glass on the table.
After a second cigarette,
I make my way to my car
and allow the train rock me to sleep.
I fall asleep watching the backside of houses and factories and telephone poles
as we race past them.
Amtrack is in a one man race to Kansas City
to make up the three hour loss of start time.
I find myself rocked to sleep
by the speeding bullet riding the rails.
Ms Claire Girard-McManus

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The guitar player
belts out the blues
fo anyone who will listen
he's paying his dues.
His voice,a bit rough,singing the truth
of death and love lost.
He sings of the heartbreak
and the blues at all cost.
The Blues man travels
across this land
stopping at coffee houses
with his road house band.
He plays on street corners,
with a jar to catch change.
He'll never be rich
but he'll play just the same.

Claire McManus- Girard

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The full moon
light the night skies over Holcomb,Kansas.
The family,
so closly knit,
had drifted off to sleep
probably each of them
had dreams of things to come
or plesant memories.
They drifted off to sleep
not knowing that in a few short hours
terror would take each of them
oner
by
one.
Herb Clutter
was the first to be face to face with the faces of evil.
The two killers personified evil.
One
by
one
The Clutters were slaughtered
like lambs.
The age of innoocence in Holcomb
had come to a disastrous end.
The town would never be the same again.
Herb,
the shepard of his flock
was brutally murdered with Kenyon
in the basement.
Blood poured like water>The sheriff said he felt he had walked into Hell.
Nancy was shot
in the back of her head.
She must have turned in fear
and Mrs Clutter shot in her bed.
All had been tied.
All had died.
The full moon was ablaze over Holcomb
like the fire that burned in the killers souls.

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Hear my dreams
for I had dreams.
I had dreams
of hope,
dreams of desire,
dreams of tomorrow
that would rise up
and embrace me.
Hear my dreams
that once were,
Dreams that even
the dreamcatcher
couldn't filter.
Hear my dreams
for they shouted out
"Hear me.
,Hear My Dreams"
Claire Girard McManus

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A birth
nearly forgotten in time.
A son's voice not heard
or handwriting on a card
never seen.
A birth from another time.
It is an affirmation
of my motherhood,
long forgotten.

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Looking out the window,
I watch the snowflakes fall
silently to the earth.
The wind whips into drifts
and carries it in small tornado like funnels
to the parking lot.
It is quiet outside,
with the exception of the man shoveling the snow.
I look around my small apartment
glad that I am surrounded by warmth.

Claire Girard-McManus

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