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Background Image: José María Pérez Nuñez

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He walks quite slow, his bones all creak,
He has gray hair, a wrinkled cheek.

How can it be that he’ll compete?
He’s never quit, this great athlete.

But can he win? He says, “Of course,
I have the most fantastic horse.”

Perhaps now this equestrian
will, at last, have his first win.

by Rosi Hollinbeck
Inspired by the oldest Olympics competitor — a 72-year-old equestrian.

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Things that make a hero:
Something you are
Something you have
Something you do
Being in the right place at the right time
Or something you don't even know about.

In the last group is Henrietta Lacks.
When she had cancer,
The doctors took it out.
Eventually she died.
The doctors discovered her cancer did not die.
They never told her.
They never asked her permission.
They experimented.

Her cancer is still alive more than 60 years later.
It has been the basis for discovering:
Many new drugs,
Cloning, polio vaccine,
Gene mapping, in vitro fertilization.
It even has its own name: HeLa.
All biology researchers the world over know about it . . .

But hardly anyone knows her name.

By George Heidenrich

(You can read about it in Rebecca Skloot’s book:
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks)

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A woman of color in ‘55

A Montgomery crowded bus

Told by the driver to move from her seat

She wouldn’t give in or stand up

An arrest, a boycott, a ten dollar fine

A lawsuit defeating Jim Crow

Fueled by a woman of quiet strength

Who simply sat and said no

Mindy Gars Dolandis © 2016

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by Michelle Heidenrich Barnes

If you were exchanged

for an ordinary pigeon

who fattens on white bread

and small bits of French fry,

if your iridescence was hidden

in the shade of an easy life,

then no one would know

your name, Cher Ami.

And somewhere in the world,

soldiers’ lives would be lost

because you were not there

to carry their hopes—

the weight dangling

on a bullet-shattered leg.

No one would know

your name, Cher Ami,

the burden you carried,

the pain that you bore,

as you rose like a Phoenix

though this wasn’t your war,

because you, like them,

just wanted to go home.

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A hero is as a hero does.

Negativity though, sometimes outdoes.

The Hero helped carry the groceries,

His bank account showing bankruptcies.

The Hero stopped a robbery,

Was treated by staff with snobbery.

The Hero saved a child from drowning,

People laughed, thought he was clowning.

The Hero fed a homeless man,

Was scorned and shamed by his own clan.

The Hero lives in all of us,

Yet people refuse to make a fuss.

by Angelique Pacheco

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life flutters, frenzied
against cold window-prison
until gentle hands

-          © 2016 Matt Forrest Esenwine, all rights reserved

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By Kathleen Mazurowski

He travels the streets

Pushing his cart

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling

Summer celebration

Calling to children

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling

A break in the day

Stopping the workers

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling

Neighbors gather

Smiling and laughing

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling

On to the next block

Pushing his cart

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling

Sweet relief from the heat

Jing-a-ling, Jing-a-ling.

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An Unlikely Hero: The Birthday
Benefactor

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An Unlikely Hero: The Birthday
Benefactor

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By Gayle C. Krause

Some kids in my classroom
never bring lunch.
Their clothes are all faded.
They stay in a bunch.

When their birthdays come,
they don't attend school,
cause they can't afford treats,
and they fear ridicule.

I had an idea.
I cut yards of grass.
And the money paid
for their parties in class.

No one has an inkling
I thought of this scheme.
I don't have friends
and I'm not on a team.

But I know what it's like
when the mean kids poke fun.
You see, they have two hands.
But me? I have one!

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Poem by Jessica Bigi

I do not know you
but your heart
must be kind
for early one morning
as your life was fading
you left my brother our family
the most precious gift
you left your heart
for my brother
a stranger to us but now
a part of family
your precious gift
your heart your kindness
your love
Thank you kind stranger kind friend
for helping
my brother live
for blessing
my family's lives
with your love

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By Lana Wayne Koehler

Evie wakes up with a wink and a smile

She has lots to do

She does it with style

Breakfast so smooth it can go through a straw

She takes it in stride

She keeps me in awe

Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

Clothes are all sparkly

Her shoes all have bows

Laughing so hard that she makes me join in

I cannot keep up

I only can grin

She’s quite a trooper through all of her woes

The hospital stays

Are not what we chose

Evie the brave has a long way to go

Her doctors are great

With all that they know.

Still there are some things they cannot explain

How only eight months

Could give us this gain

Granddaughter sweeter than sugar and spice

I kiss chubby cheeks

She’s everything nice

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An empty cage- a door agape
One hamster gone- a great escape
A frantic search- no clues in sight
No fond farewell - a senseless plight
For safe and sound- one hamster sat
Guarded closely - by our cat

By Janie Lazo

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Party's over - guests are gone
Head to bathroom - stopped up john
Smelly, mess - what a sight
Most unwanted - late at night
Just a minute - won't take long
Superhero - plunger's strong

by Kristi Dee Veitenheimer

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Despite your microscopic size

you have tremendous power.
Somehow you’ve managed to colonize
every human, hummingbird, and flower.

No habitat’s too hostile,
you flourish everywhere.
And though some may think you’re vile,
you deserve a trumpet fanfare.

The jobs you do are myriad.
Research uncovers more each day.
Your relationships are spirited,
with both symbionts and prey.

The work you do inside our gut
helps digest our food.
On our skin, any scrape or cut
heals faster thanks to your multitudes.

So sing a song to microbes
and their endless variation.
Thank you, mighty microbes,
for propelling our creation.

© Catherine Flynn, 2016

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by George Heidenrich

When you treat me like dirt,
I turn into dust:
No use to anyone.

But when you take care of me,
Water me,
Feed me,
I grow your food.
I house your animals.
I restore your prairies.
I support your forests.
I influence your climate.
I cover the earth.

I am soil.

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In April when this lion roars,

we welcome time to open doors.

The yellow dazzles the cold away.

Children rush outside to play.

No matter that we call it weed

we love to blow and blow its seed.

Don’t pluck this hero, ignore the sneeze.

This, the first bloom, feeds the bees.

Linda Baie ©All Rights Reserved

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© 2016 Michelle Kogan

House wrens busy in my yard–
fetching new nest-building sticks,

barely leaving his entrance

open, guarding all his chicks.

Who are you t-t-t-ing

today? Sparrows gone astray.

Is that your house or someone

else’s, did they run away?

I’ve been watching you dear wren,

there’re few you can call your friend.

But you fiercely follow your

fledglings, right up to the end.

To your baby birdies, your

the bees knees, and quite divine!

But humans without feathers,

best watch out, and hold your line.

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You see her coming through the night,

rat-like, ghostly face of white.

Her fifty, pointed teeth are bared.

Take my word, you needn't be scared--

Opossum's more afraid of you!

She stops, collapses, in the dew.

Do you see her lying stiff?

And that smell! Did you get a whiff?

She's not dead, she's "playing possum."

All is well, her trick is awesome.

You walk away. Possum revives.

It's almost like she has nine lives.

Next day you see her by the gate.

A passing possum stops to mate.

He does his job and heads for the door.

Twelve days later, while she snores,

thirteen babies, pink as bubblegum,

safely crawl in her marsupium**.

Spring gives way to summer, then,

one night you're in your yard again.

Under the glow of a full moon's light,

fourteen, ghostly, faces of white!

Big little possums wanted a snack.

Climbed out onto their mother's back.

Ride through the grass to munch on bugs,

raspberries, blueberries, snails, and slugs.

Eggs, and snakes, frogs, nuts, and seeds.

Decaying things? Oh, yes, indeed!

If, one possum eats 5,000 ticks,

how many fewer ticks to make you sick?

(Answer: 1 mother possum + 13 baby possums, multiplied by 5,000 ticks = 70,000 ticks)

*Lyme is one of a number of dangerous tick-borne diseases.

**A marsupium is a pouch.

© 2016 Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

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Who’s the world’s fastest cat?

It’s the cheetah.

This cat flies like the wind.

No one’s fleeter.

As she sprints after prey,

she’s the leader.

In swift races for food,

none defeat her.

But the run wears her out,

overheats her

and her heart pounds and pounds

a wild meter.

Wants to gobble her game—

no prey’s sweeter.

But the leopards and lions

browbeat her.

So she leaves them her catch—

a retreater.

For in battles of brawn

cats unseat her.

But in races alone,

none can beat her.

Cause our cheetah’s the champ—

she’s no cheat-ah!

Helen Kemp Zax

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A shark never dons a fedora,

but frequently wears a remora,

that clings to his back

without fearing attack,

while nibbling shark’s fauna and flora.

-- ©Buffy Silverman, 2016

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Scribbler, bard, lover
of language giver
of light to shine through
the darkness writer
poet, artist, creator
brave new worlds, planets
dominions unlikely hero
with a pen.

@ 2016 Robyn Campbell

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In a faraway land
There was this great nothing
No crunching of apples
Or bubblegum popping
Giggling laughter
Not one single word
Was spoken
No stories of lands faraway
Then a scribble filled the sky
A squeaky whirl of lines
Sprouting wings of ideas
Taking to flight
Dragonflies of words
Whirling all about
Chasing them with
Wooden handled nets
Colorful sentences grew
Like wild flowers
Fields of wonderful words
Building castles across iced paper
Words like dragons
And noble knights
People started reading
These words
Each word like a song
Of a beautiful bird sung
In their voices
In a faraway land
You could hear stories
Crunching like apples
Letters popping like bubblegum
Giggling and laughter
In a faraway land
A story was born
Your story
My story
Our Story
And everyone

Read happily
Ever after

poem by Jessica Bigi

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Stinker stank
and his heart sank
when Elaine sashayed past.

She always chose to

hold her nose

and walk very fast.

One day he fell

into a well

but was rescued at last.

He smelled so sweet;

his transformation complete.

What a contrast!

Elaine stopped to stare,

caught unaware until

their hands clasped.

Stinker won his girl.
After a splash and a whirl,

the difference is vast.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

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AMBUSH!

Beneath the cotton-checkered skies,

the hilltop blazed with fiery cries:

“Friends, you know we must arise.

if we’re to win the battle prize.

Open up your compound eyes.

We’re better than those gnats and flies.

Gather up your war supplies.

Bifurcate those tunnels, guys!

A sneak attack! Send in the spies!

Let’s fight as one! Let’s colonize!”

The soldiers seized the apple pies.

They marched off with the chicken thighs.

The hilltop rang with hungry cries.

The rest is history — ant-size.

Renée M. LaTulippe
(C) 2013

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Ellie the ant went into town,
To buy herself a big ball gown,

She walked around and strutted her stuff,

Was all dressed up in her frills and fluff,

When a bully saw her and gave a laugh,

She clouted him thoroughly with her staff,

He landed squarely on his tuffet,

She winked and called him “little Miss Muffet!”

By Angelique Pacheco

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Miss Muffet fled.

She lost her head.

She was quite overwrought.

Dear Spider was most misaligned.

Miss Muffet gave no thought

Of how he toiled

On silk he coiled

To catch each flying pest

Instead of scorn, dear spider needs

A medal on his chest.

(c) 2016 Vivian Kirkfield

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At Porker Elementary,
there was a bullied pig.
The other pigs yelled, “Bacon Bits”
’cuz, well, she wasn’t big.

At home, she googled “self-defense,”
signed up for martial arts.
She learned to punch and kick until
her skills were off the charts.

Now when pigs start taunting her,
she takes a half-moon stance.
She spins her arms and twirls her legs.
She halts them with one glance.

When pigmates think of bullying,
her moves cause them to stop.
They’ve all quit shouting, “Bacon Bits”—
they now call her, “Pork Chop.”

By B.J. Lee (c) 2016