The poems by Marina and Maureen appeal to me directly, like an Impressionist painting.  I approach poetry as a sentimentalist more than as a thinker.  Marina and Maureen also wrote me two incredibly beautiful letters that I include in here.  Their kind words give me the kind of incredible lift that makes the long but fulfilling process of putting together a poetry book a joyous one.

I will be happy to pass on any comments you have of Marina's and Maureen's poems to the talented authors. (Just e-mail me.) - Ray, Northern California

Left:  "Le Bar aux Folies-Bergère" by Impressionist painter Edouard Manet, (1832-1883). 

I used to be your princess, 
your perfect little angel, 
the glowing beauty you looked after... 
I was your vision, 
something to behold. 
I don't know when 
but loving me got old. 
Oh, I was so soft, 
I was so lovely 
and so sweet. 
I was your best friend, 
but sometimes you wanted more. 
I don't know when 
but I became your "bore"... 
You blame me for changing 
but it was your misconception. 
I didn't see the change, 
it was only your perception. 
I used to be your princess, 
your perfect little angel, 
the beauty you adored. 
I don't know when, 
but you don't love me anymore. 

Copyright © 1998 Marina M. Dickie.  All rights reserved. 

Raymond, 

       Those were the most beautiful poems I think I have ever encountered by someone I know....they were so wonderful and had so much  meaning...I could feel your love and your grief....it was excellent. 

Love, Marina 

13 July 1998 

Ray/Virgo: 

Your poetry is incredible, and I feel as though you are letting me look into your eyes, hundreds of miles away and yet sitting in the same room, looking deep within your soul.  What a gift that you so freely give, with such grace and passion, such power and conviction... 

Thank you for opening your heart and sharing it with me.  My saying, for all that touches me in a way such as this, is fitting for your poetry:  "I have only touched the tip of the iceburg, but it melts in my hands. Water flows to quench the soul..."  - Maurie 

P.S. Your tales of Cassandra inspired me...it is long, especially 
since it won't e-mail in two colums like I wrote it, but may I share it with you? *S* Write me back if you get a chance.  Here it is:

Like admiring a Monet 
Judge each person from afar; 
Never near enough to see 
Every weakness, stain, and mar. 

Just focus on the whole 
And never on each part; 
God's line's and strokes combine 
To make each person art.

Copyright © 1996 Raymond C. Sison. All rights reserved.

I did not write many poems in 1996.  And most of them were "small" poems.  After dating a girl named Remy from Montreal, Canada and then a beauty named Isabella from Bologna, Northern Italy I was inspired to learn French, Italian, and also improve my Spanish throughout that year.  It was my passion in '96, and led me to become interested in the Internet because I could communicate with native speakers of the Latin-based Romance languages.

I had my first date with the charming Isabella at the French Rooster in Belmont, Northern California on 18 March 1996.  My memories of her warm brown eyes, auburn hair, peaches-and-cream skin, and vivacious personality are very fond ones.  I will never forget how she told me in her disarming European accent, "Do you want me to kees you?"

We also discussed the romantic 1995 film "Before Sunrise," where two strangers spend 18 hours or so together in Vienna.  Our date felt as sweet as that movie!

Four days later I composed "Impressionism."  What exactly inspired it eludes me, but it is a beloved souvenir of a memorable year in my life. - Ray :)

I ride up on my white horse 
Lathered from the speed of my journey... 
Roses in my hair 
That is wild in the wind 
Flying behind me like a dark veil 
Untamed, uncovered, unrestrained 
Like myself... 
My shovel, sword, and shield 
glinting in the sun... 
My shovel to dig ever deeper 
To find what is in your soul... 
My sword ever at the ready, 
fighting to protect you... 
My shield to ward off blows, 
This world is full of demons... 
They clutch at your heart 
You weaken, cry out... 
Yet you will not accept my offer 
of assistance, of my strength... 
You wrap me in a magic spell 
As if to protect me from your pain. 
You know that I have had enough pain 
To break three women. 
But I am not an ordinary woman. 
I can bear the pain of a friend 
In my heart, alongside my own, 
But you will not believe me. 
You battle the world like a Trojan Horse... 
alone. 
It is full of men, with intent to harm... 
You will not let me fight alongside you. 
Instead of heeding my words, 
You swirl me in my own mists... 
I hear your cries of anguish, of pain 
I hear the sounds of battle 
Deafening my ears, 
Yet not enough that I do not have to hear 
Metal on metal, 
Metal on wood, 
Wood on wood, 
All on flesh, on bone, on armor... 
I cannot see you; 
You will not let me, 
But I know that you are in trouble... 
The spell will not release me 
It does not permit me to move, to help, 
To charge in on my steed 
I am bound... I am chained... 
I am Cassandra... 
Who watches the destruction 
Of all that is beloved to her 
Of her kingdom, of Troy, 
And yet can do nothing... 
Bound... and chained... 
By the reality of being a woman 
You have sworn to protect, even from yourself, 
Never believing for an instant 
That I, a woman, could protect you 
And mean you no harm. 
You allow me no sword, no shield, 
Nor even shovels... only tears 
And they fall like twin rivers 
The Tigris and Euphrates, 
But still do not cleanse... 
My heart is black, 
aching, hurting, dying... 
My words of truth 
Fall on deaf ears... 
Or you hear, 
But do not believe... 
I speak, 
But you will not listen. 
I am Cassandra... 
You are my Troy. 

Copyright © 1998 Maureen E. Pirhalla. All rights reserved.