Mary Bamburg
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     Mary Banburg is 17 years old, and going to be a senior at Byrd High this fall (2004). She is taking all AP classes and thinking of attending either Rhodes College or LSU-Baton Rouge. Mary loves cats, magick, all things fantasy, and foreign cultures. Ms. Bamburg speaks very basic Spanish and Latin and is learning Japanese. She reads all the time, mostly fantasy, and writes when she is not reading. Mary says "I'm lucky enough to still be at the age when everything is new and shining and the possibilities are endless - I want to see the world someday, and do my best to leave my mark on it."

ALL authors retain rights to their work. Any use or reprinting of their work must be done with permission and knowledge of the author. Please forward any such request to use a work or to contact an author to:
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Dionysus
 by Neko (Mary Bamburg)


He lies draped across the couch, unconsciously posing,
His elbow propped on the red plaid armrest, head resting on his hand,
Slender musician’s fingers tangled in his brown silky waves.
Afternoon sunlight pours through the French windows
To bronze his skin – a caress I envy.
White silk shirt half-unbuttoned
To frame a slender waist
Old jeans with threadbare knees and frayed edges
I've told him too many times to get rid of.
He props his bare feet on a blue cashmere cushion,
Occupying the whole couch with a cat’s trick
Of taking up more space than the laws of nature allow.
I straddle a wicker chair beside his head,
Stare at his eyelash-veils and the half moon shadows on his cheeks,
Drown myself in his chocolate eyes.
A glass bowl on the coffee table
Contains perfect purple spheres – summer’s first grapes.
I dangle one above his parted lips.
He takes it delicately, chews,
Savors the juice and sweetness, the flavor of a summer romance
Praying that winter never comes.

 

 

         Was It You?
          by Neko (Mary Bamburg)


So it was you, the reflection no one cast.
I'd wondered.
And all the times I walked past that tapestry
Feeling eyes on my back - was that you too?
Were you the nightingale who sang me
To sleep each night,
Silver notes mingling with soft fragrance?
You'd only sing after I blew out the candles
And the darkness waited empty for your song.
I loved you then, hoped you would nest
In my plum tree forever;
I couldn't bear to put you in a cage.
And how about the whispers no one else heard,
The faint hints of a voice
That haunted me, tickling at the edges of my hearing -
I suppose that was you as well.
And the rain that always seemed to welcome me,
And the sunlight that caressed my arms,
You again?
Did I see you in my dreams, a cloaked figure,
Incredibly bright eyes?
Were you the escape I always looked for,
But never found?
Were our destinies supposed to cross,
Except that they didn't,
And so I spent my life for something,
Someone,
Without ever knowing just what I was missing.

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ALL authors retain rights to their work. Any use or reprinting of their work must be done with permission and knowledge of the author. Please forward any such request to use a work or to contact an author to:
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