Angie L. Marty Monroe, Wisconsin

Angie is attending the University Wisconsin Stout as a hospitality and tourism major. She hopes to work for an international company to utilize her Spanish language skills. "I believe it is possible to be too deep within one's self. To remedy this in my poetry, I place myself in another; another place; another time; another person. It is the job of the reader to discover who I am. I hope it's true what they say, that a person is made of the people she encounters for I have been blessed twice for every individual in my life."

Untitled Have you ever heard a laugh - A laugh of all the ages? I heard it only once Men who lived through death and trial Who now see life and happiness Know no laugh such as this Women who freshly gave birth to a child as perfect as the break of light Know no laugh such as this No, the laugh I heard was not sweet or innocent nor was it of happiness It was shocking, yet not unexpected I heard a laugh of one who just had killed her drunken spouse It was the laugh of freedom, ringing in my ear!

Untitled In the morning I can hear him I can see him all day long When the suns gone down, when the moon has shown and the eyes you see are shut is when I dream of his treble voice The roar, the whisper of staccato and vivace When he's at his best, when I like him most He's not too peppy, not too kind But low and kind of jazzy He's my friend and my confessor To him I tell no lies When I am alone, confused and quite afraid He's there to be my love When I've died and am peering down from above The words of truth will ring aloud "Music is the only thing that I had ever truly loved."

Untitled The days are dark and evil The land has been soaked with blood I am covered with the guilt of having killed a southern brother in the mud Now I am here My stomach is empty, my mind is drowning in fear The lice, they feed on me as if I were a side of beef I've left my children and wife who now are filled with grief Mercy, have mercy on me O, Lord! Men we are so close together there isn't room for even a feather I wish to banish from this here life If only I could longer up a knife All these things they've up and tried... The country was America.. the year is 1865.

All poems Copyright © 1996 Angie L. Marty. All rights reserved.