Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Give me your love in the morning,
Before the first bird sings.
Touch me once more in the darkness,
Feel again the joy your love brings.

Hold me again in the sunshine,
Laugh with me in the light.
Share with me every color,
That is hidden from us at night.

Sit by my side in the evening,
When the sky in the west is on fire,
Before the stars are falling,
Soon the night will be at our desire.

Be with me again in the darkness,
Broken by faint light above,
Touch me once more in the darkness,
Once again I discover your love.

When the sun is no longer shining,
And all the stars have fallen above,
And all the things from before are forgotten,
Yet still will remain your love.


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Bruce writes poetry and short fiction. He lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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No longer greatly pleased by things
That I can touch,
Or I can hold,
I strive to see the unseen
In those things
That I am shown.
I long for something greater
Than past idols I have known.
I sense an end,
Or change is waiting,
Not far down the road.
I will watch,
And wait,
And hope,
To see what will unfold.


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Bruce writes poetry and short fiction. He lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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I watched for years,
As I grew old,
Saw life abounds,
And death surrounds,
Life and death dance daily,
To the music
Of this realm.
Love and fear
Are also here,
Both abound,
Both surround,
But love will
Rule the day.
Sow seeds of love
To reap harvests of joy,
Fear will pass away.


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Bruce Mundhenke has published poetry and short fiction in many magazines in the US and the UK. He lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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We lived through many changes,
Some hard times with strife,
We laughed and cried,
We loved and lived,
We knew pain and joy and sadness;
We took what we were given,
Enjoyed the good,
Endured the bad,
We thought both our due,
We made of them the best we could,
As we tended to the seasons
Of our life.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives in a small town with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Seemed like a long time
On the way,
From first steps
To a head of grey hair,
But looking back on my life now,
It never took long
To get there.
The excitement of youth,
Slowly gave way,
To an elder's
More thoughtful days.
The lust for things
Not so important,
Eventually faded away.
Knowing a little more than before,
But still lacking knowledge,
It seems...
Alive in the present moment,
Now no longer waiting in dreams.


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Bruce Mundhenke has been everywhere except the electric chair and seen everything but the wind. He writes poetry and fiction and is learning to relax.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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I live near a small star,
That's where I stay,
Out on the edge
Of the Milky Way.

And I live my life
From day to day,
Out on the edge
Of the Milky Way.

And Love is the same
As it was yesterday,
Out on the edge
Of the Milky Way.


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Bruce mundhenke writes poetry and short fiction. He lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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I love sunrises and sunsets,
And I love a starry sky,
I love a yellow. moon,
Low on the curtain of night.
I love a sky so blue
That it makes the sun more bright.
I love the lightning and the thunder,
And the wind that bends the trees,
And I love the trees in every season,
Even when they have no leaves,
And I love candles in a darkened room,
And the tear brought forth from love.
I love laughter when it's from the heart,
Not hurting anyone.
I love the beauty that can be seen
In a single drop of dew.
But greater, by far, than all these things,
I love you...


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Bruce Mundhenke writes poetry and short fiction. He lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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The bones of dinosaurs beneath us,
Stars above in the sky,
All speeding through space and time,
All along for the ride,
Something else is forming,
Somewhere down the line,
And destined to reveal itself in time.
We are only here a short while,
But we have eternity,
In which to discover,
Some of what will be.


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Bruce lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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They came out from the abyss,
Once more back in time,
Every intention evil.
All of them of one mind.
Serving the destroyer,
Opposed to all mankind,
Invisible among them,
But evident everywhere,
Sewing the seed of chaos
In every field they plow,
Murder, madness, selfishness,
The fruits they hope to reap,
Their vast storehouse bulging,
And still the people sleep.


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Bruce Mundhenke lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Only partial embrace,
We see it all around,
And when we recollect our life,
We find it all everywhere,
All the way along,
Nearly every day.
The whole wide wondrous world,
Unnoticed as we go,
Focused on a thing or two
As we move along our way.
When we get a glimpse of Spirit,
We focus only on a part,
Then we live and breathe it,
Forgetting what we saw,
And when we love another,
We claim them for our own,
And believe them to be ours,
So still, we are alone.


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Bruce Mundhenke lives in a small town in Illinois with his wife and their dog and cat. He has short stories in Mad Swirl and Farther Stars Than These and poems in Indiana Voice Journal, Plum Tree Tavern, Dead Snakes, and in many other magazines.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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The whirlwind came in winter,
Wreaked havoc on our town,
Destroyed houses and uprooted trees,
Scattered possessions around,
Silenced TVs and radios,
Put many in the dark,
Injured many people,
Though no one lost their life,
Humbled both the rich and poor,
And caused many to feel compassion,
Felt compelled to help others in need,
The contents of medicine cabinets,
Scattered all over town,
Strong trees snapped or uprooted,
Roofing shingles on roads and in yards,
Chainsaws were heard for days,
Along with noise that hammers made,
The sight of crews working
To restore the power,
Replacing power lines and poles,
The helping hands of relief workers,
Who volunteered their help,
Kindness among the rubble,
In the wake of the whirlwind.


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Bruce Mundhenke lives in a small town that was visited by a tornado on December 1, 2018.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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No longer do millers swarm street lamps in summer,
And honey bees are seldom seen,
The choir of crickets is silent in fall,
The leafhoppers, that once were sometimes a plague,
Also are seldom seen.
You can drive up and down hills in the country at night,
And still look out your windshield and see.
Monarchs no longer pass through like before,
Where is the bumble bee?
The geese that used to fill the skies,
Are now, small flocks when seen,
That go south, then north, then south again,
Like they don't know where they should be.
Many are aware of these changes,
No one is sure what they mean.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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When the lights in the heavens
No longer shine,
And an ocean of darkness pervades,
No sunrise to chase the darkness away,
No spoken words to be heard,
Nothing to touch and no one to touch,
And no scenery ever to see,
Only darkness; oblivion;
The absense of anything.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Looking into the mirror,
At my own familiar face,
Lost in contemplation,
The thoughts that come, not vain,
As I look, I am reliving,
The path that led me here,
And looking back, amazed,
At the length
Of this long, long road.
Were there other roads before,
That led to where I am?
After this shell falls by the way,
And this road is long forgotten,
Will other roads stretch out before me,
And other faces appear,
Farther down the road
That led to here.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat. It's good to be alive in central Illinois.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Once again the wheel has turned,
Now in their passion,
Leaves are set on fire,
And in their death,
Arrayed in beauty more than ever,
They await the latter breath of fall that severs,
And earthbound they are carried by the wind,
Their witness ended,
And yet the world will turn again.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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You are the poet's Poet,
Yours is the greatest poem,
Full of beauty,
Filled with wisdom,
Perfectly it scans,
Majestic in its power,
Epic in its scope,
Brilliant in conception,
You placed it on the page,
An eternal message,
A gift of love and hope.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Last night I saw Fred Odowsky,
He was the star of my dream.
Big, as in life, and still very strong,
Still funny and playful, it seemed,
He had walked, while on earth, in Vietnam,
As other poor boys also had,
And once choked a VA rep in our town
With his own telephone cord,
When he told Fred a lie,
Right to his face,
About help, at the VA to be found.
He had tripped with me several decades ago,
We took my Chevy to the river to see,
In a bar by the name of Wells Fargo,
A friend, in a band it known to me.
He took the wheel of my Chevy,
When I could no longer see.
He has been gone now for decades,
But appeared to me in my sleep,
Surely he still remains in the dreams,
Of One who is greater than me.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their little dog and big cat.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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Precious jewels,
Scattered out on velvet
In the night,
Bear witness to
A greater light.
And though they seem
To shine forever,
They will vanish
Like a firefly
In the night.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat. He enjoys nature, where he finds beauty, inspiration, and revelation.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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In the evening
He sat behind the house,
And watched the shadows grow,
And as the sun was setting,
And time was slipping by,
His mind was loosed and roaming,
He pondered many things,
In his ears were songs
Of birds,
Their singing filled the air,
And so he sat there listening,
As questions filled his mind,
He wondered about many things
He always wished to know...
He sat there till a star appeared
High in the southern sky,
He found beauty in the moment,
That could not be described,
And all his questions vanished,
Replaced by peace of mind.


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Bruce Mundhenke writes poetry in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat. He finds in nature beauty, inspiration, and revelation.

Contributor: Bruce Mundhenke

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If the earth should vanish
And our sun no longer shines,
And the money that meant so much is gone,
No more to be desired,
And no flag is there to rally round,
All causes gone away...
No murderer to murder,
Nothing left to steal,
No one left to hurt,
No one left to kill.
No more can evil find its footing,
When it has nowhere to stand,
No longer are there borders,
No longer any land.
No longer are there leaders,
No one left to lead.
No longer does the blood cry out,
No one left to bleed.


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Bruce Mundhenke is an unknown poet who writes poetry in Illinois, where he lives with his wife and their dog and cat.