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LE TEMPS PERDU
by Barbara Crooker
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I’m sitting here in this green glade, trying to write, at a wrought iron table
patterned with roses, but I’m empty of words, a dictionary of blank
pages, a pen out of ink. Sunlight is filtering through a thousand
tiny leaves, seeping down to the grass and ivy, like sitting
in a cup of green tea. All I can do is burble mindlessly,
like the house wrens and robins, haunted by the ghosts
of what I’ve written here, other times. I’m sure
the Chinese philosophers have a name for this, revisiting a place
of former happiness that you can never recapture. The cardinal
keeps singing compare, don’t compare, and a squirrel runs up the path,
cracks a nut in his sharp little teeth. Something wonderful is just about to happen.
*Title translation is “Remembrances of Things Past” from work of the same title by Marcel Proust.
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Barbara Crooker’s “Radiance” won the 2005 Word Press First Book award, and was a finalist for the 2006 Paterson Poetry Prize. “Line Dance,” also from Word, appeared in 2008, and won the 2009 Paterson Prize for Literary Excellence. She is the recipient of three Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Fellowships in literature. Visit www.BarbaraCrooker.com. |
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INVULNERABLE
By Farideh Hassanzadeh-Mostafavi
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We never met each other.
I never saw you in pyjamas ,
brushing your teeth just before sleep
and I never got a glimpse of your soaking head
out of the shower as you'd yell:
"I forgot my comb, will ya please give it to me?"
I never saw you limbering up
early in the morning;
or at night ,when you are snoring
and water is oozing out
from the corner of your lips…
I never had the fortune
to iron your shirt
or serve you a bowl of hot soup
and cover you up at nights
when you catch a cold
In the cold of midnights
our bodies never made each other warm;
But imbued with fabulous lies and dreams
our letters and poems
more beautiful and innocent than pure truth
announced us husband and wife
formally.
And our children were the love songs
Immortal in the rains of bombs
Invulnerable, against the curses of Gods.
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Editor's note: This poem appeared in our inbox with no bio. Several email contacts back to the author were attempted, and none were replied to...however, we could not leave this amazing poem unposted. So, here it is, and Farideh, if you see this, please send us your bio so that we can post it here. Many thanks. |
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Happiness That Lasts
an image by Gary Bowers
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 Gary Bowers is creator of his daily word/image journal, now at 845+ consecutive days. He is active in the Greater Phoenix (Arizona, USA) poetry community, and since January, 2009 has been MC at a reading series at Bards Books. His happiness includes Fatherhood, plus Canine Friendship with the immortal Bill. |
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Hasta Siempre
for Carlos Mariano García
by Lisha Adela Garcia
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Twenty years walking on glass
to learn the ocean cannot
be nailed to the shore.
Lakes are ideal in their enclosure.
Children cannot be contained by goodness
or right intention. Their eyes
see through a blinding fog
to a road where I cannot name the trees.
I let go of my son the way an ocean
gives up a whole sand dollar to the beach,
and then retreats to noise and froth
against the rocks. He is now on his own
tarmac of grief and joy, each decision
framed by the doors I placed around his body
when he could not walk alone.
The mother conch is empty;
sand fills the center-pink vulva.
When he returns, I want him
to find home again in the grey
of my hair and the lines of my face.
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Lisha Adela García is a bilingual bicultural poet who has México, the United States and the land in between in her work. She has an MFA from Vermont College in Writing and currently resides in Arizona with her dogs, Chiquita, Bianco, Ariel and her cat, Nube. Lisha has a chapbook entitled, This Stone Will Speak, from Pudding House Press and her book, Blood Rivers, was a finalist for the Andres Montoya Prize at the University of Notre Dame. Lisha was a finalist in the Bodine-Brodinsky Prize from the Connecticut Poetry Society for her poem, A Woman’s Hands in a Time of War. She also has a Masters in International Business from Thunderbird for the left side of her brain. “Hasta Siempre” means “Until Forever.” |
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AND THEN, I REALIZE
by Barbara Crooker |
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After a week of false starts, afternoons that flew by like swifts and swallows after gnats,
living with difficult strangers, I'm walking down the path at night,
no light but the faint cold fire of the stars. Finally, some new work done,
and maybe not half bad. Though I'm thankful for some time alone,
I'm missing my other life, with all its complications. And then, I realize, I'm happy.
The only sound is the cows, chewing their way across the meadow,
their occasional contralto moos. And the herd of stars overhead hums its own strange song,
too low for human ears.
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Barbara Crooker's Radiance won the 2005 Word Press First Book award, and was a finalist for the 2006 Paterson Poetry Prize. Line Dance, also from Word, appeared in 2008. Her work has appeared in the anthology Common Wealth: Contemporary Writers look at Pennsylvania, and she is the recipient of three Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Fellowships in literature. |
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AWAKENING
By Dorothy Ryan
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All those years on the mountain
I longed for the sound of the sea,
'til finally hearing the ocean
in the swell of a thousand leaves
swimming through the cool, damp breeze—
a million tiny bubbles
bursting on the shore.
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Dorothy Ryan is a writing coach, former editorial associate at Off the Coast and an award-winning copywriter. Her poems have appeared in Christian Science Monitor, Parting Gifts, The Pedestal, Many Mountains Moving and Rambunctious Review, among others. She has learned many lessons on her mountain in northwest New Jersey. |
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Small Pleasures
By Arlene L. Mandell |
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Soon after waking I savor
the first sip of French Roast coffee
before spreading raspberry jam
on a toasted corn muffin.
The scent of your aftershave
lingers as I move through yoga
to the music of native flutes.
Later I read poetry, my head resting
on Natasha’s side, her purrs
vibrating the words.
Venus shines through our window
as I slide between cool sheets
the promise of passion
only a touch away.
A single friend who studied dance
in Bali, went on safari in Kenya,
who sails, golfs, searches
for that perfect mate to fulfill
her every desire, says my life
is ordinary–I know she means boring
but these small pleasures
satisfy my soul.
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Arlene L. Mandell, a retired English professor from New Jersey, lives in northern California with her husband, one cat and two dogs. Her work has been published in more than 200 newspapers and literary journals, including in 12 anthologies. |
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Flower Gift
A painting by Maria C. Kleinbub
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 Maria C. Kleinbub's return to art, and true exploration of painting, began only after she had back surgery in 2007. Finally having some time to remember who she was brought about a sort of renaissance in this 40-something woman's life. Having studied art in NYC's School of Visual Arts years before, coupled with her love of folk/whimsical art styles, Maria has found the place of peace and happiness in this part of her life's work. The other part is that of caregiver. The two require a delicate and effectual balance, bringing real-life experiences which influence her art. She is the mom of a college-aged son, and is owned by three cats. |
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HOPE
by Faye Hosein |
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We watched the sun disappear behind the hills
until the last glimmer of light,
like our hope,
was gone.
Upon us came night
with darkness and insecurities
with ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’
and the sinking feeling of not knowing.
Sleep, our escape.
The black of the night was surely followed
by brightness of a new day.
We awake
happy to be alive,
eager to see the first ray of sun,
rising in a hurry above the ocean,
warming our faces
illuminating our souls.
Come!
See the world that is at our feet!
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Faye Hosein, born in the tropical isle of Trinidad in 1966, is the third of seven children, mother of three, aunt to 12, friend to many. Faye found that growing up in the laid back, multi-cultured twin-island nation of Trinidad & Tobago, with its beaches, lush greenery and colourful folk, was certainly a luxury and definitely an inspiration to her way of thinking. Faye, by no means a writer, decided in her adulthood to jot down some of the thoughts flying through her head. There were so many, as if moments in time were on fast forward. Surprisingly, some of the random thoughts she captured actually sounded fair to fine. "Hope" is a series of those perhaps not-so-random thoughts. |
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From Gratitude Springs Happiness |
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In the summer of 2008, we witnessed an extraordinary cultural event on the National Mall in Washington, DC. Americans and international visitors lined up at a tent at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival to write out gratitude postcards to themselves and friends. But these weren’t just any postcards. They were “Exchange of Gratitude” postcards that, after the Folklife Festival, were hand carried back to Bhutan, distributed in schools for Bhutanese children to write their thoughts on gratitude and then mailed back to those who addressed them.
 As the postcard activity touched the hearts and minds of individuals of all ages who participated, there was a quiet joy in the tent. We saw focus, and heartfelt smiles. We saw parents engaging with their children as they considered the question. We saw many words and sentences. We saw hand-drawn pictures of gratitude. We witnessed the contagious spirit of thankfulness of the Bhutanese culture, which was a featured attraction at the 2008 Folklife Festival.
Seeing people of all ages engage in the question “What are you grateful for?” made us pause to reflect on the phenomenon that we were seeing.
The Bhutanese people know who they are, and where they come from. They embody gratitude for the blessings of life, and of the earth. They are calm and centered. They are accepting of other people. They show us that when life is hard (or easy), there are many reasons to be happy.
Happiness is not just a buzz word. It is a way of life…making conscious choices to find the happiness in every moment. We may choose to be aware of the gifts life presents us every day, like the Bhutanese.
Bhutan shows us that happiness is a human legacy. Even a tiny country, not destined to be an economic force or a political giant, can lead the world by example, inspiring us to let the happiness in every day.
We invite you to join this project by writing something for this website. ( Click here for guidelines.) We look forward to reading and sharing what you send.
~ Frances Todd Stewart and Cathy Capozzoli |
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