Zhibit laments the passing of Anthony Cuban in February 2010. We are keeping this website online as a tribute to his work and his memory. Other than these messages and the addition of the Poetry page, the site remains as Tony intended it to be. May he rest in peace.

Poetry Contests

Contests bring out the poets in us, as we compete,
Fashioning phrases;forcing them to follow our beat,
\Sometimes they come out with meanings obscure,
and even harder for others to follow,
When we miss the mark, our forced words emerge
nonsensical, or often quite hollow,
\I think that when engaged in this attempt
at poetry, we sometimes try too hard,
We want it to come out like Shakespeare; we
want to emmulate that famous bard,
\Simple thoughts, simple words, can convey
many complex ideas, but it takes work,
So drag these from the back of your brain,
from the darkness where they lurk.

Wake Up Sleepyhead

I felt the welcome sleep suddenly escape my
being, only to be quickly replaced by a
groggy, disoriented feeling,
\With eyes yet unopened, and a sleepy haze
clouded mind, I became aware of myself
taking an inventory of my parts,
\There, was my left arm being dragged from
beneath my pillow, and then my right arm
emerged from beneath the soft blankets,
\I felt these two re-discovered appendages
seeking out, and finding my closed eyes,
whereupon begining their learned functions,
\After recieving their ritual rubbing, my
lids raised, and the filtered sunlight in
my small bedroom became evident,
\I quickly re-covered my body with the still
warm blankets, in an attempt to restore the
feeling of comfort that was interrupted,
\But, this was not to be, for I was awake, and
I knew that I must leave this pleasant place.

After The Long Wait

The late arrival of darkness allowing extra
time to view our world, is one of summers's treats,
This same landscape, a short while ago, was
covered with snow; the lake topped with icy sheets,
\But came the spring, and birds on wing, it
chased away the dreadful cold, and awakened the world,
Life began anew, buds appeared, branches
opened, and allowed dormant leaves to be unfurled,
\Then light, warm rains dropped upon the
earth, rinsing skies as it fell, creating a fresh scent in the air,
Spring had arrived, it was time to shed, the
heavy coats of winter; Now was time to
enjoy the weather fair,

Evil Men Walk This Earth

Why did God create such evil men as these?
They kill, and claim it's Allah they please,
\Are they so blind that they can not see?
That God (Allah) finds not an ounce of glee?
\God is not pleased to know that they kill,
and then claim that it's just God's will,
\God created man in His own image, we're told,
Is our Creator a murderer, cunning and cold?
\Or, is He a gentle loving God, kind to all?
Did He not die for sins that made men fall?
\Does it please your father when you destroy,
things he built for you to love and enjoy?
\Why then do they believe Our Father is glad,
Learning that, in His name, you acted bad ?
\God will not reward this action with virgins,
When they spill more blood than our surgeons,
\What they have done is evil, beyond belief,
Causing fellow men sadness, and much grief,
\Our God, your Allah will punish your kind,
With a place in hell; for you He will find.

I, the Artist

I stand proud before my well used easel,
Sketched a dog, but it looks like a weasel,
\That's okay, that's why they make erasers,
I'm a sketcher, not one of those tracers,
\I am a purist, I don't like mechanical aids,
even though some made better grades,
\Some used projectors to make very big art,
I like to use bold colors to set me apart,
\I like bold colors, and bold outlines too,
I try to find subjects that are also new,
\Light and shadows make interesting art,
But, all is good, when it's from the heart,
\I like different things; things that are new,
Art can show things from a different view.

Summer's Smile

My gray winter pallor is beginning
to slowly fade,
\Now, I can enjoy the warmth for
which I prayed,
\These summer days are now getting
longer each day,
\Swimmers, boaters, and fishermen
now fill our bay,
\Winter's chills are behind us now,
at least for a while,
\It's time to relax, to enjoy the sun,
and wear a big smile!

Whose Blood ?

Blood draining down through hot dry sand,
Sifting out the last remnants of life
The body long gone, carried home; Now only
A stain to bear witness to the past strife,
\Was this the life blood of an enemy soldier,
A poor hapless peasant in the wrong place,
Or, perhaps it was a scared, young, woman,
Who was not permitted to uncover her face?
\It makes no difference whose blood it was,
But, is important to know why it was shed,
So that we can prevent the future events
That will cause men to stack up their dead,
\Man has died for causes throughout history,
Sometimes with honor, sometimes in vain,
Man must learn to live with one another,
Only then will we rid ourself of this bane!

Surfer Mentality, Re-written for Beth

Standing ready, wet suited, to ride the
constantly onrushing sea; it is the quest,
Seeking the challenge to conquer this wet
force, requires talents, and efforts best,
\Sliding the board into the foaming waters
edge, then climbing aboard to paddle out,
Sitting out there waiting to catch the next
ridable wave to begin your shoreward route,
\Wave after wave, riding quite content, then
dragging the board back up on to the beach,
The sand and sea is the only place to be,
even though your hair will certainly bleach,
\Then when the sun disappears into the sea,
calling an end to this surfers wet play,
The suits will dry, boards will be re-waxed,
to be ready again on the very next day.

Partial Birth ?

I was for a while, and then I ceased to be,
I never was,I was denied my right to be me,
\Breath never came, but it was quite near,
I waited almost nine months of this year,
\Nine long months of my submerged waiting,
Due to their carelessness and their mating,
\Perhaps I am better off, without those two,
Unfortunately,those were the parents I drew,
\They were selfish, and didn't care for me,
And that is why I was never allowed to be.
\How can anyone claim that this act is right
While ignoring the silent unborn's plight?

We Must Stop The Insanity

Bodies charred, mutilated and hanging from
the steel girders,
Proves the brutality, and the inhumanity of
these murders,
\The insanity of this act, and the many other
similar to it,
Can not be allowed to go unpunished, or they
will not quit,
\Fanatics hide behind the words of prophets
who want blood,
And who drag the greatness of the true God
through the mud,
\We must all unite to rid the world of these
ruthless vile men,
To prevent these horrific scenes to happen
again, and again !

Camping Memories

Moms and dads waving, as we board the big
chartered bus; we are on our way to the
campgrounds; our journey has just begun.
\The long country ride rinses our minds of
the bustling, noisy city; we view sights
that we seldom have seen; farms pass by
with cows, horses, and sheep; soon we'll be
camping; or just laying in the sun.
\The smell of coffee perking over a campfire;
the sizzle of bacon on the blackened iron
grill; the sight of those golden-brown
pancakes stacked high on paper plates, these
are the things that make camping fun.
\A long day of canoeing down the tree-lined
creek, dodging hidden rocks; portaging over
long stretches of sand bars, and shallow
water; riding swift rapids; followed by a
quiet dinner by the campfire; our day is done!

Whirr, Buzz,Beep, Whirr

It sits there doing nothing; making not a bit of sound,
It hardly weighs anything: It weighs less than a pound.
\It used to light up and make noises, when it was new,
With it's coat of lacquer, it was prettier then too.
\It's not that old, nor is it broken; nor out of date,
It's what happens to all of them; it is part of their fate,
\Their owners, once happy, now will wear a frown,
That's what happens when the batteries wear down !

Writer's Block

Did you ever rack your brain, trying to
write that poem you want to be great,
only to run into a brick wall, and not
be able to get your thoughts straight?
\Well, if you have, do not fret. It happens
to everyone once in a while; it'll pass,
So, just sit back, try to relax,put on some
soft music, and fill up your wine glass,
\When you have gotten rest, and are
ready again, your head will be clear,
you will be delighted to see on the
paper, those right words will appear.

Store-bought Toys?

Growing up in urban Pittsburgh, Pa
back in the late thirties.....
\The toys that we had didn't come to us
from a store, or in a box,
Even at Christmas time, we didn't get
toys; we usually got socks,
\I don't mean to say that we never got
or had, new store-bought toys,
We mostly made our own, from discards,
we were resourceful boys,
\Rubber band guns, from old inner tubes
were a favorite of all,
We played war games, we shot at targets,
and just had us a ball,
\We rode Pushies; our home-made scooters,
made from wooden orange crates,
two, two by fours studs, and outgrown
steel clamp-on roller skates.

Camping Out

If you are quiet, and very still, you can hear
a waterfall way down in the creek,
If you are adventurous you could go down
to the shore; from there you can peek,
\You'll see beavers, racoons, and maybe a
deer or two, drinking from the stream,
The animals, trees, and water falling over
the dam; it's like a beautiful dream,
\The air is fresh, the city smell is gone,
Birds can be heard singing high overhead,
Pine needles piled high, covered with a
tarp, makes a comfortable outdoor bed,
\A campfire, a coffee pot slowly brewing,
makes this our complete camping scene,
Now this would be the perfect picture.
if our tent didn't have that weird lean.

Long , Dark , Wet, Road

Trucks, trucks, trucks all night long that's
all we saw coming at us through the rain,
With wipers going all the time, trying to
see the road ahead, became a mental drain,
\The bumper to bumper traffic began to ease
up a bit, allowing us to drive faster,
Moving in and out of the trucks was a trick
that I would have to learn and master,
\Then all of a sudden, it seemed, the traffic
cleared, and the road ahead was clear,
The rain stopped, giving easy vision of what
was ahead, relieving us of any fear,
\Free to drive at the legal limit was once
again ours to enjoy; we could relax,
The roadbed began to dry, as we sped along
enjoying scenery, and munching snacks.

House Guest #1

In a tranquil little home, on the edge of a large city,
there lived a man, his wife, and their little pet kitty,
\This was a peaceful place, although it was
hardly a mansion,
A guest arrived; he was man of considerable
over expansion,
\At first all was fine; for the guest
was the son of the man's sister,
but, soon his unfounded arrogance
proved him to be a verbal fister,
\If he tried to conceal some of his crude
behavior, much would be ignored,
making it easier for them to take, while
furnishing him his room and board.


Words ! Words that hurt ! Words that soothe,
Everyone uses them,rough guys,or the smooth,
Some of us use them without even thinking,
or, use harsh words when we are drinking,
Words have power to sting, or cause pain,
They can be poetic, beautiful,or just plain,
They can also help to ease the pains felt,
or sometimes make tough guys just melt,
A word to the wise is sufficient, they say,
and used properly, their minds you can sway,
Usually a tender word placed here and there,
Will show listeners, that you really care,
A soft word, can calm the most angry of us,
quelling the tempers that started the fuss,
These words can be like magic; a real cure,
or the thing to make a friendship endure.

Nourishment From God

Watching the sun emerge from it's hiding
place early this morning,
I thought that we were in for a scorching
day... But with no warning...
\The sky darkened, and the clouds rolled in,
obscuring the brilliant orb,
The earth below began to cool, preparing
itself to soon absorb,
\The fresh, cool rain, begining to fall from
heavens on high,
was welcomed for the relief that changed
earth's long dry.
\Seeds, that long lay dormant, below the soil
began to stir,
Hills, will be green again, not the browns
that they were.
\Praise our Lord for His wonderful gift that
nourish these seeds,
For He has always looked over His earth and
cared for our needs.

Surfer Mentality

He stands ready, wet-suited, to ride the
constant on-rushing sea; it is his quest,
It's challenge he seeks; to conquer this
wet force, it will require his very best,
\Sliding his board into the foaming water's
edge, he then climbs aboard to paddle out,
Patiently waiting at sea, constantly alert,
One good wave, triggers his watery route,
\Wave after wave he'll ride quite content,
Dragging his board back up onto the beach,
The sea and sand is where he wants to be,
his hair curly, recolored as if by bleach,
\The sun disappears into the sea, calling
for an end to this surfers watery play,
The wet suit will dry, the board re-waxed,
to be ready again, on the very next day

The Dark Universe

Memories fade away as our time goes on.
Some are lost forever as they slip from
our minds to enter that vast darkness;
That eternal darkness of no-return.
\When this happens to bad memories, we should
rejoice, for we will be spared the pain of
re-living this unpleasantness; let them stay
in this darkened universe forever,
\When good memories are lost to this darkness
we must strive to replace them with others,
to give us the needed strengths to continue
in our daily pursuits of happiness,
\The ability to discard our unwanted thoughts
and to have them never return is a blessing,
Life is much too short to dwell on painful
things that often cause us sorrow and misery.

Beauty Abounds

Surrender your mind to the beauty that
surrounds you every day of your life,
Question not that which is way beyond
your comprehension,
Just enjoy it for what it is; simply
accept it without reservation,
Do not fault yourself because you cannot
explain a beautiful sunset,
Do not make excuses for not being able
to compose music,
Sing your songs silently to yourself,
and disallow, or veto critisisms,
Paint your pictures in your mind even
though you are the lone viewer,
Share your dreams with others when you can,
enjoy them alone when you can't,
You can be both creator and pleased viewer,
Seek all of life's beauty, you will be pleasantly rewarded.

Are Clocks Fooling Us

Tick-tock, tick-tock, That is the only
language of the clock,
They say that the clocks tell time; How?
They can't talk,
\Clocks have faces, so they say, but is it
really true?
The faces I know have a nose, mouth,
and an eye, or two,
\They also tell us that clocks have hands,
one large, and one small,
If this is so, why can't that clock catch a
little bitty ball?
\And how about those seconds that they are
counting off?
Why not firsts, or thirds? I am starting
to scoff!

Beauty is in the Eye of the Buyer

I am both the artist, and my most critical
I know that most will not appreciate my arty
\But, you will have your chance to judge
it too,
You will be judging this art with eyes that
are new,
\Like it, if you will, or dislike it,
if you must,
Your decision is the only one for you
to trust,
\I judged this myself, and found that I liked
it a lot,
Others must have agreed with me, since it was
just bought !

When Hope Is Gone, All is Lost

Hope exists for all of us, unless we allow it
to be extinguished,
\We must guard against those who will try to
take this hope away,
\It's our responsibility to do all within our power to stop them,
\Our will must be stronger than those who try
to convince us otherwise,
\When we allow our hope to vanish, we have
seen the beginning of the end,
\When everything else has gone away,hope is
the last thing that we must maintain

Time Clicks By

Yesterday I was a mere child, nursing at my
mothers breast,
What would I grow up to be ? How could anyone
even dare guess ?
\The years flew by, all too quickly, and they
are now long gone,
I find myself now, at this other place where
I have been drawn,
\Looking back, through images that now are
blurred and unclear,
I realize that some memories remain,
while others disappear,
\How could I have grown so old, so fast? Did
I do something wrong?
What has happened to that young, eager, boy
who was so strong?

Fun At The Easel

A dab of red, a smear of green, or even some black,
It will take some practice,but you'll get the
\A blob here,maybe two,or a great big orange
Select the proper colors and you'll avoid a
\Stand back a bit, and survey what you've now
As your image emerges you'll see that it is
\You are the artist,the creater,the one with
A brush,
It's fun, even if your results turn out like
Mush !

Art Faire In The Park

Got up early, drove through the fog to
Balboa Park,
As the fog lifted, we saw that it was still
quite dark,
Tho' it wouldn't be long, until the old sun
came up,
I brought coffee in a thermos, so I poured a
big cup,
The rest of the gang began to arrive, and to
I checked over my art that I had to put
on the rack,
There were paintings, some mugs, and cards to
But, because of the weather, we weren't going
to stay,
So, we packed up the car, and we headed back
We drove away, as the rain fell on the musuem's
dome !

Expert Help Needed

My screen went blank,it threw me for a big loop,
I was halfway finished, now I was in deep soup,
I couldn't get the program back; it was gone
If I was to get it back, I would have to be
I searched high and low,I looked everywhere I
Wait ! Did I check if it was a fuse that I
blew ?
I mentioned my problem to my seven year old
Who ran to my PC and grinned as if a lottery
he won,
He pushed a button or two, SHAZAM! the screen
lit !
Then he walked away grinning, while I threw a
fit !

Saturday At The Races

A taco, and a nice cold beer for lunch,
Mr.Freckles in the 3rd, is just a hunch,
\Saturdays are my free days; days to play,
Days to do my thing; to have it all my way,
\Days to rid my mind of the weeks woes,
Now it's been spoiled, he lost by a nose,
\So, now it's back to the old salt mine,
Next saturday, I'll bet on that 5 to 9!

The New Season Approaches

Sitting alone in my room in the dark,
\I think of those early days in the park,
\Without cares, and free to enjoy our games,
\Recalling emmulating pro players with names,
\Although I gave it my best, I came up short,
\I realized that this was not my best sport,
\Playing the outfield was too boring for me,
\I wanted to be where the action would be,
\Yet,I enjoyed this game, and I played a lot,
\So liking the action,I pitched, or I caught,
\After these many long and frustrating years,
\I still get anxious as the new season nears

Haggling With a Used Car Salesman

I went out to look at a new car on the lot,
I found one that met the standards I sought,
\We haggled and bargained until I soon tired,
We couldn't agree, in numbers we were mired,
\They discounted the price,but.. no trade-in,
I knew I had to be hard nosed,for me to win,
\I offered more money down, but to no avail,
They stood firm, this deal would now fail.
\I liked their car,not the terms of the loan,
They swore that the profit was to the bone,
\We seemed to get further away as we dealt,
They pressured me further, so I would melt,
\Leaving the lot I said I would soon return,
But I'm not going back,I'll avoid the burn !

Poetry 101

When you write your poem, it needn't rhyme,
It can be of this day,or of any other time,
If it's all about the olden days gone bye,
You can make it very interesting if you try,
Put all the color in it that you can muster
Use all the words that will add more luster,
Tell your story but keep it short and sweet,
This will knock your readers off their feet,
If they like what they have seen and read,
Their literary hungers will have been fed,
So, take your best shot, be bold and brave,
Don't forget to hit the button marked"save"!


She looks up into my eyes as I stand over her
tiny crib,
I reach down and carefully start to remove her stained bib,
She just finished eating, she burped, and I
laid her down,
I put on her bib so she wouldn't soil her
pretty gown,
Now she's gurgling, and making those cute
little sounds,
She's happy and content in this room where
our love abounds,
She was quite small when she was born, and
then ill to boot,
But boy, was she pretty, I've never seen any quite this cute,
We pray that she will grow out of her infant
ailments in time,
She shouldn't have to suffer for being born,
it's not a crime!

Carpoolers Are Here!

Foggy mornings, freeway crashes
television forecasts of pending gloom,
Waking to this each day makes you
want to not ever leave your room,
\But work is calling and you are more
than a little bit late,
The carpoolers are already here
you're not ready, it's what they hate,
\You hurry more than usual getting
ready there's no time to waste,
but you get a little careless
in your reckless morning haste,
\You slosh coffee over your shirt,
and now have to clean it up,
Then when you're done,
there's no time for another cup,
\Out the door you madly dash
trying to save a little time.
only to realize you can not
finish this silly rhyme

I am Powerless

Does it really matter how I feel, or what I
Can I make any difference to what depths we
\Can I stop the madness that surrounds us one
and all?
Will my efforts lessen how many of us will
\Can I alone, avert the horrors that surely
Is there anything to be done to cause this to
\I think not; What will be, will be; good or
If you've been good,you'll be happy. if not,

The Beholders Eye

Ask anyone claiming to have an eye for art,
What makes one piece unique or stand apart?
\Why are scribblings of the youngster bad,
While similar adult work generates a fad?
\Why is a canvas of solid blue,green,or red,
Lauded,as others pile up like books unread?
\Yellow blobs, melding into lines of white,
Dots of purple floating in line of sight,
\Hairy lines in the distance twist and turn,
Forming images that into your brain burn,
\Bumps, and scratches dwell in these scenes,
As viewers attempt to figure what it means,
\I, for one, am at a loss, I don't get it !
This is not beauty; not, from where I sit !

The Million Dollar Soldier , Thanks Pat

Pat Tillman, a Ranger died in combat in a
far away war fighting terrors,
He has earned a flag draped casket, then
all Military pall bearers,
\Did he make a wrong decision; To join the
Army, instead of the NFL ?
He fought to free others, sacrificing his
Life; With God he must dwell!
\He felt there was more to life,than the
big money, and all of the fame,
He gave it all up, helping his fellow man,
To him, a far more important game,
\Bravery such as his, is not uncommon in this
country of wonderful young men,
They deserve our support, our prayers, and
the hope that it doesn't happen again.

Keeping In Touch

I tried to write, but my pencil broke,
No kidding, I really did, it's no joke,
\Even though there's not much to tell,
Not hearing from you is my little hell,
\If I don't write to tell you about me,
Why should I expect a letter from thee ?
\I care about what's going on back there,
Believe me, you are in my every prayer,
\Even though we are many, many miles apart.
You are close, because you're in my heart,
\So, I have typed this little note to you,
To inform you now about all that is new,
\I got new shoes; that's about all to tell,
The weather's fine, and I hope you are well!

Spring Has Sprung

Hints of green slowly emerge from within
the branches of the twisted old tree,
It is a sure sign that the winter has begun
to release it's grip, and set us free,
\Soon other sprigs will begin to show their
color, enjoying this spring air,
and prepare to unfurl their fullness, since
this weather has become fair,
\Birds will return to build their nests and
raise their new young,
This will happen again, now that this brand
new spring has sprung,
\The snow and the cold has gone away, warmth
will reign once more,
Trees and flowers can bloom, Mother Nature
can show-off her decor.

Why The Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree ?

Walking down the road one day, I came upon a
twisted, old oak tree,
It had been there for many years; many more
than you and me,
\As I gazed at it's bent,and weathered limbs
I wondered what it withstood,
Through those long, hard years that it had
devoted itself to making wood,
\Many storms had come it's way, but none were
able to stem it's growth,
This old mighty oak showed it's strength,
and it's beauty both,
\It was, and is, a survivor ! It stands as a
symbol to give us hope,
Telling us to maintain our strength, and we
will be able to cope !
\That is why we tie that ribbon 'round the
old oak tree,
Now, you can understand what others have failed to see

Memories Of My Youth

I ventured west a long time ago, from an era
That has ceased to be,
Yet, often when I think of my earlier days,
Memories return to me,
\I sometimes feel as though I never left,
My recall is that strong,
Then other times my mind is blank, until I
See a sign, or hear a song,
\I feel torn between my two homes, each trying
To make me feel right,
Each bringing pleasant memories back to mind,
Which adds to my plight,
\I know that here is where I now belong, and my
Past has been gone too long,
But my mind returns to those extinct places,
Can anyone say this is wrong?

Running Out of Space

I have shown my art all over this world,
Some so old that the edges have curled,
\Some so small that they fall from the bag,
Some too large they cause the frame to sag,
\I've got pencil art, ink drawings, and oils,
Some depict oceans,some show foreign soils,
\There are black and whites, some quite stark,
Some vividly colored, but none that are dark,
\But my favorite of all,is the canvas frame,
That when I finish painting,I sign my name
\Someday soon, I hope that I will sell a few,
Then I'll have room to store the one's new !

Daydream # 18

Sitting on the warm grassy shore,
staring out towards the deep blue sea,
caused my mind to start to wander,
and many pleasant thoughts came to me,
\I dreamt of sailing over those deep, blue
waters to places very far away,
And watch my ship glide through the waves,
ploughing it's own, new way,
\Sighting new land on the horizon, then
rowing to it's far distant shore,
I wanted adventure; seeing things or places
that I never knew; to learn more,
\But, my time was up! My lunch hour was over,
it was back to work, I must go,
Adventure time has passed me up, it's back to
my machine # 6, in the 4th row !

Primrose Path

I live in California where the sun shines
brightly almost every day,
I live in San Diego, a lovely, modern city
located all around the bay,
Here, I am able to enjoy the water sports,
the outdoors, and the town,
I can enjoy watching our pro sports teams,
tho they often cause a frown,
I can walk among the colorful flower fields,
while enjoying every smell,
Or ride the watertaxi, visiting the ships
that rise with every swell,
Or, visit missions where California began,
and from where San Diego rose,
But, when it comes to politics, I must watch
and just stay on my toes !
For if I just blink, or turn away my head,
down the Primrose Path I'll be led !

One Day the Truth Will Emerge

I listen to the radio and TV news,
Hoping to reinforce my very own views
\Hoping to hear someone agree with me,
But it seldom happens;Why,I can't see,
\My opinions are not crazy,nor too wild,
They're sensible,I'm not a little child.
\I form my own opinions from what I hear,
And in my mind everything is really clear,
\Yet,the media will try to make you believe,
Things that are iffy; they try to deceive,
\They take the side of one over the other,
Enhancing one, and the other they smother,
\I wish for the day,where truth is told,
Where believability lives beneath the fold!

Pittsburgh, Pa. 1934

A city filled with soot and dirt,
A soiled handkerchief, and shirt,
\Plumes of smoke from the mills,
Cold winter winds giving us chills,
\The polluted Allegheny flowing south,
Entering the Ohio River at it's mouth,
\Trains squealing through the night,
Streets clogged by drifts of white,
\This was Pittsburgh in my youthful days,
I remember all, but through a bit of haze

Thawing Out

Winter's icy fingers penetrated my body's
natural insulation,
This was the coldest that I have been since
my creation,
\The cold wind caused shivers to disrupt my
muscles calm,
My face reddened, and my cracked lips begged
for soothing balm,
\I wrapped my cold-soaked body in warmer,
and thicker clothes,
I put on heavier socks, in order to protect
my now cold toes,
\I tightened my jacket to ward off the cold
winter's air,
But without a hat, ice crystals formed in
some of my hair,
\The sun will rise and warm the place,
Then I'll get back my thawed-out face

The Statue Of Liberty

She stands tall in our harbor, a beacon of hope,
With her torch held high; her light is our guide.
A magnificent gift, a display of their friendship,
A symbol of freedom; then, they were on our side.
\Look closely, today now there's a tear in her eye,
The donor's have now forgotten their old friend.
They stand boldly against us, in favor of Saddam,
They support his terror, and they refuse to bend.
\What has happened to this cherished old friend?
Did they forget our heroic liberation of France?
Can they not see that this Saddam is like a boil,
Or like festering sore that we all must lance?
\Do they not feel sorry for the citizen's of Iraq,
Or must they toe the line and follow Mr. Chirac?
The free world, saved France from the evil Nazi's.
Why now do they deny this same freedom to Iraqies?
\Miss Liberty sobs silently, guiding the new citizens,
To our land of freedom, with her welcome arms,
While Frenchmen rail against us, safe in their land.
Defending Saddam, enthralled by his evil charms.


We watched the ball arc high into the air,
Surely it was homerun,it looked to be fair,
\Suddenly a strong gust came in from nowhere,
The ball found my glove; I heard a fan swear,
\One more out and this game was ours to win,
We took the lead, from the hole we were in,
\Now we just had to hold on a little longer,
Starting out weak, we got steadily stronger,
\Our struggle to win was long and hard fought,
If we failed now,it would be all for nought,
\A strike, then two,and three balls in a row,
A perfect pitch would give us reason to crow
\With fingers crossed I observed the last toss
Strike three! We won,and avoided the loss!

Firestorm 2003

Smoke billows from the smouldering remains,
As weary firemen pray for the needed rains,
\Skies blackened from the dense,black smoke,
Causes the fire victims to gag,and to choke,
\Peering at what was once there, and theirs,
Brings forth their tears and then prayers,
\With all now gone,they will stand the test,
They will rebuild; start anew; a new quest,
\Things are gone forever, yet life goes on,
Smoke will fade, there will come a new dawn,
\Their homes will be rebuilt,they'll survive,
With the lord's help, they'll again thrive.

And Down It Came.....

The Lord commanded Noah to build a huge ark,
but he needed a permit, and a place to park,
Off to town he went to get the permission,
But plans had to accompany his submission,
\He also was told to pay many fees required,
By this time he was mad, and very tired,
He relayed this to the Lord, who reacted,
and also got very mad, then over- reacted,
\BOOM came the thunder, and then lightning,
Down on earth, it was very frightening,
Then the rains started to fall to earth,
The people ran for all they were worth,
\The water began to rise to levels unknown,
The people below were soaked to the bone,
It kept up for forty nights and forty days,
Proving the Lord works in mysterious ways,
\The people had learned the hard way,a lesson,
Thus bringing an end to this biblical session!

It Will Pass

The sun disappeared behind the hill,
It was warm, but now there's a chill,
Clouds drifted in forming an envelope,
This is the weather, and we must cope,
\It could be worse, even colder still,
When our old sun hides behind the hill,
The skies could spill their cold rain,
Then you'd be able to really complain,
\We must just take this all in stride,
Knowing the bad weather will subside,
We can turn attention to other things,
Ignoring whatever Mother Nature brings.


The artist community of Zhibit.org laments the passing of Anthony J. Cuban. We are keeping this website online as tribute to the memory and life's work of Anthony J. Cuban, RIP.

 Anthony J. CubanEl Cajon, CA619-579-3615