Page One Writers
59 North Main street A8A 1X1 Deer Lake, NL, Canada

Today, we will be featuring the works of Kayla Critch. These poems have appeared in Page One Digest, Volume 1 and Page One Digest, Volume 2. Page One Digest, ...a collection of work by members over the years is available for $12 a book. Momma Please don’t cry for me Mommayou don’t see me, but I am still here. I flew to heave gently, Mommait was painless and without fear. Please don’t cry for me, Mommayou don’t see me, but I am still here. If you miss my sweet scene, Mommahold my teddy tight and near. Please don’t cry for me, Mommayou don’t see me, but I am still here. Look around you, Mommamy fingerprints you will find there. Please don’t cry for me, Mommayou don’t see me, but I am still here. When you are sound asleep, Mommain your dreams I will appear. Dedicated to Autumn and Freya’s mother Ashley - Kayla Critch Dump Kitty Found on the classified, a kitten who was free. A family thought I was cute, came and got me. They brought me home, to my bed. Love you forever, is what they said. Months past by, and I played alone. Forgot the love, that I was shown. One day I was picked up, put in a crate. Put in a car and dropped by a gate. I walked the rubble. Where did they go? Where was the food? I did not know. Others like me had passed me by. With patches of fur or missing an eye. Why am I left here? What did I do? They got a new kitty all tiny and new. I made some friends; they keep me warm. We snuggle together in the snow storm. The day might come when I might be found, But trust is not easy, the second time around. Dedicated to all the lost and forgotten - Kayla Critch

Today, we will be featuring the works of Ray Bennett. These poems have appeared in Page One Digest, Volume 1 and Page One Digest, Volume 2. Page One Digest, a... collection of work by members over the years is available for $12 a book. WHAT IS THAT RACKET? The house it did shiver; The timbers did squeak. The first time I heard it, I was unable to speak. I clung to the bed post To stay off the floor, And then I remembered My wife she does snore. Whats that racket; Oh whats that din? Did it come from without, Or did it come from within? I dashed to the window; I ran to the door, And than I remembered: My wife she does snore. Its two in the morning; The shades are all drawn. I hear a great murmur Out on the front lawn. I peek out the window, And low and behold: Our neighbours are standing Out there in the cold. I tell them quite calmly- And this is a fact- My furnace is old And is starting to act. Its ok by day, But by night it does roar. I just couldn’t tell them, My wife she does snore. I return to the house Somewhat relieved. But I know that little Has been achieved. For now she is dreaming Of some distant shore. I know, I can tell By the way she does snore. I REMEMBER HER STILL I remember her still As she dashed about Skipping her rope With a song and a shout Time it has passed The years they have flown My baby to quickly Into a woman has grown The day she left home There was a tear in my eye I knew her own life She was going to try Her mind it was filled With doubts and with fears But I knew she would make it Despite her young years

Today, we will be featuring the works of Anne Bowring. These poems have appeared in Page One Digest, Volume 1 and Page One Digest, Volume 2. Page One Digest, ...a collection of work by members over the years is available for $12 a book. Memory Road There are roads I remember that I often walked as a young girl in Deer Lake. It sure has changed. It was a pleasant time with high trees waving and pretty flowers lining the streets. Trains, across the road from Main Street, brought people in to see a doctor at the small hospital where the 50+ Club now has its building. Main Street was a lively place back then. I remember when the new Bank of Montreal was set up close to the Roxy Theatre. Before the movie started, children who had any talent got in free and they step-danced and sang on the stage. The Roxy had fancy plaster ceilings and heavy velvet curtains in front of the screen. Next door, Danny Joseph’s opened the Ambassador Club and to get in there, you had to have a membership. Men worked in the woods camps and when they came home on weekends, they acted rowdy and threw a few punches. When Ranger Hogan came to town, he set down the law and cut down on the worst of the brawls. Frances Joseph set up a clothing shop, the Mitchells sold furniture, we had restaurants and the ice cream parlour where we sat and talked over ice cream and sodas. Mr. Dunne opened a drug store and the Bank of Montreal opened a branch. There were the other stores, too, the Schwartzes, Wellons, Goodyears, and others -you could buy anything on Main Street. In the summer time, we ran to the swimming pool where the stadium parking lot is now. We danced in the wooden dance hall in the evenings, sat at the benches under the trees and went to church garden parties in St. Judes and Nicholsville. They sold snacks at the garden parties, crafts and sometimes had a Jumbo Sale (what they call a flea market now). On Labour Day, Deer Lake had a big time. They closed off Main Street from Morley Coish’s, at the corner of Goodyear’s Hill to Pennell’s Lane and we danced in the street dances. I remember people riding on the train to go berry-picking on the Gaff Topsails. Listening to the music on the way, we had a grand time. The trip took a whole day. We also went to Corner Brook on the train to do our Christmas shopping. In the winter time, we enjoyed ourselves on the old rink on Gatehouse Road. I’d put on my skates and skate all the way up Middle Road, feeling so free! When hockey games were held at the rink, an old wood stove warmed up the spot where we went in. We had no cell phones and no television. Telegrams delivered news, good and bad. Before Mom’s brother came to visit from Grand Falls, he’d send a telegram. It was delivered by hand to our door. Bad news came that way, too. When a relative or good friend died, we heard the news first in a telegram. We had no Microwave oven. When we came home after school, Mom was in the kitchen and we always looked forward to a good meal. People in those days were close. They depended on each other. These are some of the pictures I remember in my album of Memory Road.

Today, we will be featuring the works of Daisy Bennett-Lush. These poems have appeared in Page One Digest, Volume 1 and Page One Digest, Volume 2. Page One Di...gest, a collection of work by members over the years is available for $12 a book. Pantyhose Nonchalant she stood there, waiting in the line To do her weekly banking when someone form behind Tapped her softly on the shoulder and said, Excuse me ma’am. She turned around and looked and him, he said My name is Sam. All the crowd was smiling as he whispered in her ear I know that you don’t know me ma’am, but I know you’re unaware Your pantyhose is hanging from the left leg of your pants You need to pull them out my dear or you’re gonna break your neck. Well thank you Sam she turned and smiled, and waved to the crowd I’m always in a hurry an never checks around. With a happy bunch of onlookers, she took the pantyhose Stuffed them in her pocket, and said Ya never knows! We might gear up the old Dodge Van She’s leaning on a tilt All we need to take a ride Is a Pantyhose Fan Belt! Unbalanced Meshed together Disconcerted Chaotic thoughts Tangled pandemonium Cobwebs or Words Muddled, confused No switch to shut down Wired like an explosive Breaking point unknown Continuous torture of imperfections Invisible to the human eye Flawless exterior Brilliant tendencies Inherited mutated genes Cell circuit disoriented Constant struggle for diversion Defense barrier warped Chemicals or seclusion To halt the process Of eruption