Grab The Brass Ring Many times I've been disillusioned, Just as many times, deceived, Yet, my heart still yearned with fervor As onward I marched, in quest Just when I became convinced That she never did exist, I raised my eyes and there she stood. My heart experienced a small implosion. Never had my eyes beheld a woman quite like her; All gentle lines and such lovely skin She, a pale, translucent beauty, Her hair was like a pool of sunshine Which shimmered, to my delight. Her eyes, when fixed upon me Took all breath away, I loved her when I first saw her. I love her more today And though the years have dimmed our ardor And our faces are lined with age, My love is still beside me, And there she will always stay. Proclamation You are the perfect poem That I never wrote <8R> Like flowing words of ethereal beauty. You are poetry in human form, Every time I see your face A million words appear Like majestically written verse, Which soars to exceeding heights Thus, does my heart soar. Like a fascinating composition Written in heartfelt script, So have you entranced me. Like permanent ink upon the page My love for you endures. <8> Autumn Sky as gray as slate Rain, violently caroming off my window. In the middle or the street an old man struggles, Body bowed against the slashing rain. Howling winds rattle the panes, yet The fireplace keeps the chill from my bones And there at my window, Graterul for the warmth within, I stand and observe A multi-hued panorama or neon lights Which dance upon the rain soaked streets. Anesthetized Within the corridors or my mind, Illuminated only to myself, Thermonuclear explosions do erupt, Immutable ferocity Assimilated to psyche, Anger, a white-hot phosphate, is born Silently; no histrionics. I Held captive within dungeon depths of my mind, Incipient self-destruction looms. The darkness beckons me. The evil Siren sings her song and I Am drawn, irrevocably toward her. Below, in skeletal fragments, lies my life While I, disreputable self, Cease all ineffectual struggling, too numb Too traumatized, to care. Inconsolable Unaware of being observed, He stood, head drooping, Disheveled and disheartened, Anguish, emphasizing his very posture. His shoulders were slumped, chest heaving While tears streamed unrestrainedly Down his haggard face. Standing, in abject misery All ragged breaths and tremors. Suddenly, all strength seems to desert him As he collapses against the alley wall, Sliding bonelessly downward And there he sat, In a puddle of freezing water, While the February rain Mixed with the tears which streamed from his eyes. AB0UT THE AUTHOR Steve Printz was born in June of 1951. He served in the Marine Corps for four years (1969-1972), serving one tour in Vietnam. He was attached to the 3rd Marine Division, on detached duty status, and assigned to Camp Carrol, which was up near the Cambodian border. There his team fought the influx of weapons re-supply coming out or Cambodia. In 1980 he received an associate in the arts degree, from the University of Wisconsin (Baraboo). Currently, he spends his leisure time writing poetry, short stories, and is working on a novel about the War, addiction, and his criminal history motivated by both his experiences with violence, and his addiction to narcotics.