Contributor: Roy Blokker

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I know why I’m on this earth,
Put here to scream at you.
But I have been far too polite,
Too shy, too quiet,
Too wrapped up in inoffense
Despite my two strong lungs
And my well camouflaged
Convictions. I sing in silence
The ancient songs handed down
Parent to child, like lessons
Meant for survivorship
And custodial care,
Monuments freshly polished,
Archways scrubbed clean
Of blood, fresh cut flowers
Blooming, and my purpose
No longer hidden in the shadow
Of my mausoleum.


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I was born in Holland in 1950. Now retired, I am concentrating on the art and craft of writing. I am the author of six books, including four volumes of poetry, as well as numerous articles, stories and poems published by magazines as diverse as "Black Heart," "Clever," and "Highlights for Children."

Contributor: Roy Blokker

- -
Eight years gone and I
Still try to hold on.
I gave you my words,
My precious gifts,
A warm water cascade,
A tumble in the shower,
And I don’t remember
What I said.
I wrote them down, no back-up,
One copy just for you.
Did you toss it away
On your wedding day?
Did you place it
Like a rose pedal
Between the pages of
Your favorite book?
Did it disappear when you did?
Did it live within your heart
Until the end
Or did you place it
In some ante-chamber
Of your mind under lock and key,
The key fed in small bites
To your husband
For security?
We lost touch centuries ago
And therefore I don’t know,
And I don’t remember
What I said
But I do remember when
And why.


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I was born in Holland in 1950. Now retired, I am concentrating on the art and craft of writing. I am the author of six books, including four volumes of poetry, as well as numerous articles, stories and poems published by magazines as diverse as "Black Heart," "Clever," and "Highlights for Children."