Poetry Corner
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Mare Leonard
This section was inspired by prolific poet and retired educator Mare Leonard. She is a longtime mentor and friend of our executive editor, Myrna Haskell. Mare published several chapbooks and was a finalist in the Hill-Stead Museum's Poetry Contest. She also won first prize in the Lucy Cady Lamphier Contest.
"When was the last time you selected a book of poems to read or ordered one from the library? Poetry is often dismissed in our culture. With Poetry Corner, we are hoping to share a taste of poems that will make you think, laugh or wonder." ~ Mare Leonard
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EVENTS
CAPS Calendar
Hudson Valley, NY Bowery Poetry: Open Mic (see calendar listings) New York, NY Poetry Near You: Poets.org Poetry Events throughout US Poetry Open Mics Find virtual open mics poetry in your local area in the U.S. and Canada. Attention Readers: If you would like us to post a nonprofit or FREE community event in Poetry Corner, please send a note to: [email protected] For-profit events will also be posted for a small fee. Please inquire. |
ARCHIVES 2023-2024
November 2024: Selected Poetry
Poems by Jane Seskin
Poems by Jane Seskin
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Small Satisfactions
by Jane Seskin When I was trying to create a meaningful older life, when I was running away from suddenly empty hours and emotionally carrying people around on my shoulders, I shopped. I filled the spaces in my day visiting antique stores so the spaces in my head could have a breather. I collected. I searched on flea market tables for blue glass, boxes in different sizes, fabric remnants and tole trays (only black tin with painted flowers). I prepared. The hunt was a necessity swallowing time and energy, in return for small satisfactions, as I looked for, located, owned, and then integrated, the very best of my interior treasures. |
Unexpected Gifts
by Jane Seskin In a year of Wednesdays I learned where to buy the best Linzer torte and a blow-up lumbar pillow for my desk chair and how to wrap an ace bandage around my left ankle and get into a taxicab (butt first). I learned the names of discount websites for shoes and lighting, the date for a lecture on brain health and about the budget cuts for our neighborhood library. In Senior Aerobics I learned how to listen. |
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Jane Seskin is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and the author of 13 books (most recently the poetry collection OLDER, WISER, SHORTER: The Truth and Humor of Life After 65.) Jane’ s writing has appeared in more than 40 publications including Cosmopolitan, Woman’s Day, New York Times, Narrative, Persimmon Tree and Women’s Older Wisdom. Her nonfiction has been anthologized in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Get Out of Your Comfort Zone. She’s been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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Older Wiser Shorter: The Truth and Humor of Life After 65 (Tallfellow Press) is an intimate collection of 89 poems. Authentic, funny, insightful, quirky and heartfelt, Jane acknowledges the disappointments, physical vulnerability, and emotional loss taking place in her senior years. She is able to discover within herself a solid sense of power, resilience and new-found joys through her struggles to acknowledge, accommodate and accept her aging. Her ability to make the very personal universal, will resonate with readers seeking to discover new ways to honor the past, celebrate the present, and welcome the future. This New Revised Edition contains 26 additional poems!
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September 2024: Selected Poetry
Poem by Susan J. Wurtzburg
Poem by Susan J. Wurtzburg
Blue Skies Beckon
by Susan J. Wurtzburg
Prominent tufted ears, black-pupiled golden eyes, hooked powerful beak,
tree-bark camouflaged feathers, six-foot wingspan, predatory perfection
encased in the body of a 14-year-old Eurasian Eagle Owl. Let loose in New York’s
glass-walled metropolis. Urban zone of sand, stone, cement; natural materials
in unnatural form. Was there space for a bird hatched unnaturally, released
in Central Park by anonymous snipping of his cage wire? No skills
at wild living, yet he survived, dining well on mice. Named Flaco by
his fans, photographed during daytime hunting, perching, posturing,
on trees, but also building ledges, fences, created edges delineating
a once-natural world. Parceled patches of green, no barrier to
a renowned city resident, paparazzi-worthy. With only a year of fame
outside his cage, one cool morning in February, he strained the borders
of his world, flexing his wings into a window promising endless blue skies.
by Susan J. Wurtzburg
Prominent tufted ears, black-pupiled golden eyes, hooked powerful beak,
tree-bark camouflaged feathers, six-foot wingspan, predatory perfection
encased in the body of a 14-year-old Eurasian Eagle Owl. Let loose in New York’s
glass-walled metropolis. Urban zone of sand, stone, cement; natural materials
in unnatural form. Was there space for a bird hatched unnaturally, released
in Central Park by anonymous snipping of his cage wire? No skills
at wild living, yet he survived, dining well on mice. Named Flaco by
his fans, photographed during daytime hunting, perching, posturing,
on trees, but also building ledges, fences, created edges delineating
a once-natural world. Parceled patches of green, no barrier to
a renowned city resident, paparazzi-worthy. With only a year of fame
outside his cage, one cool morning in February, he strained the borders
of his world, flexing his wings into a window promising endless blue skies.
“Blue Skies Beckon” won 1st place in the “Land of Enchantment Award,” National Federation of State Poetry Societies, published in the National Federation of State Poetry Societies Encore 2024 Prize Poems, ed. Kathy Cotton, p. 56, available on Amazon.
Susan J. Wurtzburg received 1st place in the Land of Enchantment Award, 2024, the Save Our Earth Award, 2024, and the Elizabeth M. Campbell Poetry Award, 2022. She was also a semi-finalist in the Crab Creek Review Poetry Competition and in the Naugatuck River Review's 14th Narrative Poetry Contest, both in 2022. She was a Community Poet in the Spring 2023 Poetry Workshop, Westminster College, Salt Lake City. Susan is a Commissioned Artist in Sidewalk Poetry: Senses of Salt Lake City, 2024. She is an Associate Poetry Editor at Poets Reading the News. Her poetry book, Ravenous Words, with Lisa Lucas will appear in spring, 2025.
June 2024: Selected Poetry
Poem by Roberta Curley this month.
Poem by Roberta Curley this month.
Silhouette
by Roberta Curley
I love you in shadows
dim lights define us
Your true gray
my frosted highlights
shimmer
platinum incandescence
Body size
shape
inconsequential
Silhouette caress
zero duress
We bob like drunks
in a funhouse
Later…
Exiting onto the boardwalk
we fly and flop
on a blanket of hail.
You dare me:
hail-angels, anyone?
We stretch arms wide
legs next --
eyes bolt shut
for wishing
by Roberta Curley
I love you in shadows
dim lights define us
Your true gray
my frosted highlights
shimmer
platinum incandescence
Body size
shape
inconsequential
Silhouette caress
zero duress
We bob like drunks
in a funhouse
Later…
Exiting onto the boardwalk
we fly and flop
on a blanket of hail.
You dare me:
hail-angels, anyone?
We stretch arms wide
legs next --
eyes bolt shut
for wishing
Roberta Curley has lived in Greenwich Village, New York City, for forty-five years. She started writing poetry sixteen years ago when a rhyming poem popped out while journaling. Her work has been published in West View News, The New York Times Metropolitan Diary, Thrive Global, Q Review Anthologies, Tamarind, and Jefferson Market Library Poetry Workshop Anthologies. Her poem “Palm Fronds” appeared in the spring 2019 issue of Penn Review. She has written approximately 150 poems - subjects ranging from pineapples to the pandemic. Contact Roberta.
May 2024: Selected Poetry
Poems by Lauren Martin this month.
Poems by Lauren Martin this month.
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Osceola
by Lauren Martin I dream Of Africa When I wake And watch the sun Refract beyond the large Schoolyard Oak Sitting West Where the Ravens nest And the Hawks seek their young I dream of a strong woman And solitude The sounds of nature Giving way to perspective Nobility of spirit Being recognized By a strong man Wanting debates And nights of passion As unafraid Of female intellect And post menopausal Sensuality as A great hunt |
Ode
by Lauren Martin Ode to the child I aborted For I was sure I would have more Ode to the men That left For I knew I would marry Ode to the womb That filled And emptied Earlier than most For I thought I would do it alone Ode to a life Of waiting For I thought Patience was a Virtue and a Form of reverence To be rewarded Later |
Click Cover for More Information/To Purchase
A powerful and wise poetry collection on shamanism, feminism and disability, "Night of the Hawk" tells untold stories of the marginalized. Inspired by the author's own experiences — including the isolation she has suffered as a result of living with chronic illness and having devoted herself to Ifá, a religion outside the mainstream, these poems explore a yearning for connection. Ultimately, this collection will inspire readers to question the world around them, finding compassion abounds.
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Lauren Martin is a psychotherapist, poet, and a devoted Ìyânífá. Lauren studied poetry at Sarah Lawrence College. She spent years writing without submitting her work due to a long shamanic journey, which led her to both Ifá, and to the writing of this collection of poems. She lives in Oakland, California.
April 2024: Selected Poetry
Poems by Fay Loomis in celebration of National Poetry Month.
Poems by Fay Loomis in celebration of National Poetry Month.
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Lenten Hymn
by Fay L. Loomis ice-white snowdrops bow heads on pillows of snow purple hellebores, dark as midnight poke their knotted fists through clodded soil saffron rods pierce hued crocus bowls riotous shades of hyacinth florets breathe scented life into ambient air cadenced phrases of risen color quicken drear wintertide |
Hope for Hope
by Fay L. Loomis stroke cut outer limits pandemic squeezed perimeter inward voices strange to my ears write some, read stream movies say my gratitudes call my sisters who are as bored as I Note: This poem initially appeared in The Lothlorien Poetry Journal. |
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Fay L. Loomis was a nemophilist (haunter of the woods) until her hikes in Upstate New York were abruptly ended by a stroke; she now lives a particularly quiet life. A member of the Stone Ridge Library Writers and Rats Ass Review Workshop, her poetry and prose are published in It Ought To Be Magazine, Kaleidoscope, Synchronized Chaos Magazine, The Blue Mountain Review, Spillwords, Fevers of the Mind, and elsewhere. Her poetry is included in five anthologies. Fay holds an MA in art history from Michigan State University. Her essay "Amour Toujours" can be found in Sanctuary.
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February 2024: Selected Poetry
Poems and corresponding illustrations this month by Kathleen Zimmerman
Poems and corresponding illustrations this month by Kathleen Zimmerman
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Magic Desert - Camel, Snake and Gecko
by Kathleen Zimmerman The vastness of the landscape was all Camel could see, As the sun baked the sand and her toes and her knee. As she walked along the shifting dunes in the sandy sea, She wished she had a fine dinner and nice date, you see. Just then the dry ground moved underneath her big feet, Making her wonder what could grow in this intense heat. She knew of no plants who would choose to live out here, Then it occurred to her that it must be other life, oh dear. At first she thought to run but then decided just to stand, She couldn't help but wonder who was there in the sand. So she stated, "I won't hurt you if that is what you think, I only eat plants, which I know do not live in a dry sink. So please come out of the sand to say hello and whatnot, While I may be big I am no threat to you, I truly am not." In response to this up popped a pair of beady little eyes, Startling her and then strangely making her think of flies. This caused her to begin to rethink her decision to stand, As she asked, "Why are you hiding there under the sand?" Snake emerged from his cool hiding place coming so near, Testing the air with his tongue as he hissed in her left ear. "Why aren't you here with me under the sand, I wonder? Please answer my question or must I continue to ponder?" Camel replied to his crude question as calmly as she could, "As you can see I would not fit, and I do not think I should. Besides, I have no need to hide out of sight from the sun, My insulated coat keeps me cool when I am out having fun. Additionally, my body adjusts itself to both cold and heat. I am cool in the day and warm at night, it can't be beat." At that Snake slithered closer to her in his twisted way, Giving Camel the chills despite the dry heat of the day. Snake hissed, "My temperature changes from hot to cool, But it is due to what is around me because I am no fool." As he hissed he looked at her in a way that was not kind, Making Camel wonder what Snake really had on his mind. Camel took a quick step or two back as she looked around, Not liking this guy wishing he would go back underground. "You were cool hiding under the sand but now you are not. You should go back there," she said, "before you're too hot!" Snake smiled showing his fangs as he wound in his stance, Just then Camel saw Gecko rolling her eyes in the distance. Then Gecko smiled turning the most intense shade of green, Signaling to Camel that she wasn't any help and was mean. So, Camel nodded towards Gecko as she continued to talk, Making Snake aware of another creature, who he could stalk. "May I suggest Gecko who may be more your size and liking." Snake slithered round to look with his tongue stuck out flicking. As Snake tasted the air he hissed, "Camel you are a fine mate, But I agree, a gecko would be more fitting as my dinner date. Hearing this Gecko turned bright crimson as she scurried away, With Snake close behind her allowing Camel to go on her way. So, Camel continued her walking in the sand so far from done, But she no longer wished for any more company than just one. Even though the oasis was still far away she did a little dance, Being quite happy to be thinking freely no longer in a trance. Meeting Snake made her tread on the hot sand more lightly. Now that she was aware of what lived there daily and nightly. 
Magic Farm - Dog, Cat and Pig
by Kathleen Zimmerman Dog and Cat were sitting by the window quite content to be there.
When suddenly Pig came into view all muddy and round as a pear. Dog looked at Cat and then back at Pig as she let out a loud bark. "Look at that dirty pig, she must be homeless and living in the park!" As they watched the pig rutting around and enjoying the warm Sun, They began to wonder if living indoors, or outdoors, was more fun?" Cat stretched her long legs and curled up for her mid-afternoon nap. Then Spottie purred, "I would like to go out to hunt for my night cap." "I would like to spend my days running in the hayfields as I please," Dog whined. Then she saw Pig digging in the garden by her trees. "That pig's unwanted invasion is more than I can take!" Izzy barked. "Must you be such a dog, just live and let live," Spottie then remarked. Dog shook her head knowing Spottie was right in what she had said. It is not Pig's fault she lived outdoors. I should not wish she was dead. This made Izzy think about Life with her humans, they do love me. They feed and walk me so that I am indeed as fit as a bumblebee. The throw wood sticks and my toys for me to fetch in the backyard. I am given big hugs when I please them, which is really not that hard. As she thought about these nice things she returned to her soft mat. Life in today's world was not bad even if she had to live with a CAT! Cat reacted as if she had somehow heard her, "Try living with a dog! You smell and bark more often than not. Please go live with the hog!" This directed Dog's attention back to Pig who was eating a fat root. Maybe she would go live with Pig, rolling in the mud would be a hoot! She then thought about her humans, could they survive with just Spot? No dog to welcome them home from work, or sit with them on the cot? Just then her humans arrived back from the grocery, or the pet store. They seemed so happy to see her wagging her tail by their front door. Dog Barked, "I do have the best life and I am content with my path." Then changing her mind when they said, "Izzy it's time for your bath!" |
Magic Tundra - Moose, Hare and Puffin
by Kathleen Zimmerman Moose was born a pessimist so she could never believe her luck.
She thought her life was supposed to be terrible, but no such luck. Instead, it had been pleasant without too much trouble, and such rot. You would think she would have been thrilled, but sadly she was not. The problem was she had an image of what life was supposed to be, And it had not been how she imagined it as anyone could easily see. She used to complain about her life, but the others said she was blessed, And they would no longer listen to her, telling her to please give it a rest. So, she did as they asked not being happy but resigned to the fact, That complaining was no fun if they would not listen with some tact. Moose tried to change her bad luck by living in a cold harsh climate, Thinking it would make her miserable and she would not find a mate. But she was wrong again finding she was quite content living up there, And she even met Michael living next door who had been such a deer. She had known that the tundra was dark and frosty most of the time, And it was muddy and filled with mosquitoes in the hot summertime. Who knew she would love the cold air numbing her big padded nose, Or absolutely adore the squishy mud in-between her soft furry toes? Even Mike was better than she had any right to think he would be. He was handsome and quite kind to her, which anyone could see. She knew this was not how her sad life was supposed to be at all, But she had the worst kind of luck until she met a hare named Paul. Paul like Moose had bad luck so when he saw her he let out a cry, "Wait until seven to step on me, that's when I am supposed to die!" Moose had not seen Hare because the thick mud matched his tint, So, she was surprised by him and what he said, so asked him for a hint. "I am not going to step on you now and certainly I am not at seven. How do you know seven is when you are supposed to go to heaven?" Moose did not know much about Hare, or death, so decided to ask, "Do all hare die a seven and when do moose wear the death mask?" Hare replied, "No, I picked seven for mine. I don't know about moose. I suggest you pick your favorite number, or play Duck, Duck, Goose." Hare continued, "Since life has not turned out as I imaged it would, I decided to make sure that death would happen as I think it should." "My life has not turned out as I imaged it would either," Moose said. "I'd plan my death too if only I knew when I was supposed to be dead." She had never thought about how death was supposed to be done. But now she though that at seven, Death might take more than one. Puffin had been flying by when she heard this strange conversation. She had a habit of ease dropping, which I should probably mention. It was just her way being born nosy in more ways than just the one. Besides, no one noticed as she flew over so what harm was done? Anyway, Puffin's interest was peaked since her luck had been bad. So, she decided to land on Moose using her rump as a landing pad. Then Moose, Hare, and Puffin, shared their sad life stories of bad luck, Followed by how life was supposed to be lived in this land of muck. As they compared how their life was to how life was supposed to be, Each was surprised by the other's good luck wondering, why not me? When they had all finished they asked one another, "What's the matter? You both have had good luck, frankly it could not have been any better." Seeing their lives through someone else's eyes helped them to realize, That maybe they really should not be planning their untimely demise. Maybe life was not something that went as you thought it should go. Maybe life was a journey of discovery so that you will be in the know. The three poems and corresponding illustrations are from Kathleen's new book Magic Circles, a fictional tale that uses symbolism and satire to challenge established systems of belief in a serious, yet playful, way. It re-envisions the creation myth from a female point of view on a simple and personal level, yet presents profound food for thought. This book is a collection of 21 animal tales/poems. Kathleen Zimmerman was born in Fort Collins, Colorado, which is nestled along the front range of the Rocky Mountains.
As far back as she can remember, Kathleen wanted to make things. Her passion for creativity and expression was noticed in school and eventually earned her artistic merit scholarships from the University of Hartford's Art School, Connecticut, where she received a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. Her love for the drawn image and the beauty of organic forms led her to specialize in printmaking and sculpture. Kathleen has exhibited her artwork widely has won numerous awards. She is a signature member of the National Association of Women Artists. Kathleen started writing books on her art practice as part of an art business class in 2019. Her books include: Look to Nature, China through an Artist's Eyes, and ABC...The Art of Contemporary Artist Kathleen Zimmerman. Magic Circles is her latest book. Readers can find out more about Kathleen's artwork from her spotlight in our Fine Arts section. Follow Kathleen on:
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January 2024: Selected Poetry
Poem this month by Roberta Curley
Poem this month by Roberta Curley
Resilience
by Roberta Curley
I want to live.
Again.
To transform.
To be overcome by
spirit so wholly--
it crushes grief.
I fear tomorrow’s
twists — and the
labyrinths of my
mind. I’d rather
flourish than
be swept into
yesteryear’s urn.
I want to be.
My folks reside in
a frame atop my
bedroom armoire
-- beside a clock
tick-tocking them
to oblivion.
Childless me --
whose dresser
will I rest upon?
Whose timepiece
will mark my
journey?
Romance is
beyond my grasp.
A man’s touch
terrifies me.
I seek refuge
in my apartment,
sinking into my
poetry.
But today,
I step out
to commune with
my concrete city.
A sidewalk
passerby
and I briefly
interlock smiles.
Maybe I
can make a friend —
And not cringe.
by Roberta Curley
I want to live.
Again.
To transform.
To be overcome by
spirit so wholly--
it crushes grief.
I fear tomorrow’s
twists — and the
labyrinths of my
mind. I’d rather
flourish than
be swept into
yesteryear’s urn.
I want to be.
My folks reside in
a frame atop my
bedroom armoire
-- beside a clock
tick-tocking them
to oblivion.
Childless me --
whose dresser
will I rest upon?
Whose timepiece
will mark my
journey?
Romance is
beyond my grasp.
A man’s touch
terrifies me.
I seek refuge
in my apartment,
sinking into my
poetry.
But today,
I step out
to commune with
my concrete city.
A sidewalk
passerby
and I briefly
interlock smiles.
Maybe I
can make a friend —
And not cringe.
Roberta Curley has lived in Greenwich Village, New York City, for forty-five years. She started writing poetry sixteen years ago when a rhyming poem popped out while journaling. Her work has been published in West View News, The New York Times Metropolitan Diary, Thrive Global, Q Review Anthologies, Tamarind, and Jefferson Market Library Poetry Workshop Anthologies. Her poem “Palm Fronds” appeared in the spring 2019 issue of Penn Review. She has written approximately 150 poems - subjects ranging from pineapples to the pandemic. Contact Roberta.
November 2023: Selected Poetry
Poems this month by Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan
Poems this month by Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan
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I Belong to Me Now
by Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan I belong to me now. Folks lament; “She is all alone.” But I’m never lonely, I’m just simply not one to own. I have never walked here where the path appears wild and strange. Still I’ll stumble forward Through a dark and unwelcome change. I will be returning, for there’s need to pass through this way. And I’ll grow familiar with the steps that I take each day. There will be decisions that were never called mine to make. They’ve been well decided and designed for only my sake. Being left without him, I will not be an anguished soul, or forever grieving in the thought that I’m less than whole. When I search for answers to the questions I’ll surely find, I’ll converse with me and will continuously change my mind. I will need his laughter and the warmth of his dear embrace. I will miss his presence and the longing upon his face. But I’ll hear the calling of the birds that he loved in flight and recall he told me he’d be near as they flew from sight. There’ll be peace in silence and contentment in quiet things that can hum in rhythm and allow me a song that sings. Till breath’s gone, I’m breathing and responding to what will be. In this space, I’m dwelling. And while here, I belong to me. |
Waiting in the Wings
Words & Music by Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan Waiting in the wings - I’m just waiting in the wings, shivering and lis’ning all alone, for my curtain call. I have learned my ev’ry line – oh, I hope I’ve learned my lines, and I want to walk out on that stage and give the crowd my all! I’ve felt like this before - known fears like this before, still I keep coming back again for more! ‘Cause when I get it right, and I know I got it right, There’s a joy I can’t describe…a longing that is deep inside. (Repeat from beginning) Waiting in the wings, I’m just waiting in the wings, shivering and lis’ning all alone for my curtain call. 
Photo Courtesy: Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan
Elizabeth Fowler Sullivan was born in California during the Great Depression to parents that in her words, “Went to California in search of fortune, but all they got was me.” When she was two years old, they returned to Oklahoma City. While attending Heronville Grade School, she met Jim Sullivan. They married in 1947 while still attending Capitol Hill High School, and in 1950, their first child, Michael, was born. Before moving to Norman in 1968, they lived in Boggy Depot where five of their eight children were born with whom they shared their passion for music. Elizabeth received a degree in music years later from The University of Oklahoma, but her goals took a new direction. At the age of 76, she received her degree in English with an emphasis on writing and literature. She is an accomplished and published writer, composing music, poems, and essays. Recently, at the Cowboy Hall of Fame, she received the Lifetime Achievement Award from Capitol Hill High School. She continues to study, write, and plan for future performances around the country. “Mother of Singers, Mistress of Song,” has performed in New York City at venues such as the Oak Room at the Algonquin, the Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie, Helen’s, the Metropolitan Room, and Zankel Hall at Carnegie. She has also participated in the Brownville Concert Series in Nebraska and has sung at Town Hall for the Cabaret Convention. Bob Dotson featured the family on NBC’s Today Show.
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October 2023: Selected Poetry
Poem this month by Erin Jamieson
Poem this month by Erin Jamieson
Dusty Halls
by Erin Jamieson
by Erin Jamieson
I swallow the moon
and paint my skin
in crimson sunset
wading in clouds
so depleted of
color I disappear
like for years
I longed to--
only as I gasp
& shadows nestle
in my chest
I miss my heart
the ability to love
and long
& your voice
echoes
in dusty halls
and paint my skin
in crimson sunset
wading in clouds
so depleted of
color I disappear
like for years
I longed to--
only as I gasp
& shadows nestle
in my chest
I miss my heart
the ability to love
and long
& your voice
echoes
in dusty halls
Erin Jamieson holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Miami University. Her writing has been published in over eighty literary magazines, including a Pushcart Prize nomination. She is the author of a poetry collection (Clothesline, 2023) and four poetry chapbooks. Her latest poetry chapbook, Fairytales, was published by Bottle Cap Press. Her debut novel, Sky of Ashes, Land of Dreams, will be published by Type Eighteen Books in November 2023. Follow Erin on Twitter.
August 2023: Selected Poetry
Poem and Artwork this month by Lona Tarakji as Part of our 8th Annual Focus on Youth Special Issue
Poem and Artwork this month by Lona Tarakji as Part of our 8th Annual Focus on Youth Special Issue
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From Fear to Security
by Lona Tarakji I am from a curious eight-year-old in a new country to a young teenager comfortable in her new home. I’m from fear of being killed in civil war to living a peaceful life, where I can dream of becoming a pediatrician. From worrying about will I get hit with falling metal to being excited about each new day. From one adult landlord friend in Turkey to a dozen RAMP volunteer tutors and friends. I am from a neglected pupil in Turkey to inspiring teachers in Boonton and Wharton guiding me to be an Honor Roll scholar. I’m from a playground in Turkey where only one cousin would play with me to being on my school’s softball team. From no friends to having Salma a best friend, who shares my faith traditions, my first language Arabic, and who helps me with my math homework! From confused to excited. I am from a pencil and sketchbook in a bunker to an inspiring art teacher, oil paintings, a wizard sculpture, and family portraits. I’m from imagining a peaceful life to living it. From fear of losing relatives I love to being thankful my parents and siblings are safe today. From not knowing what I want in life to imagining my journey and the road to get me there. Lona's poem captures some of the highlights of her experiences moving from the culture and traditions of the Middle East to the United States. She began to write poetry in fifth grade. Her first poem was written following George Ella Lyon’s I am from template. Lona expanded on this format adding the to component. She hopes the reader will gain insights into how different her daily life in Syria was compared to her life now as a Syrian American teenager.
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Self-Portrait
Acrylic, Yarn & Sewing Needle © Lona Tarakji In Lona's Words...
I decided to paint my 2021 self-portrait with a mask covering my face for a few reasons. I was confused about what I was feeling creating an image of me, growing into blending two very different cultures, the Middle Eastern traditions and foods of my birth country, Syria, into what I’ve been learning for the last six years about becoming an American. Conveniently, the mask-wearing mandates of the coronavirus pandemic, still in effect in the spring of 2021, allowed me to hide most of my face, so I did not have to decide which emotion to reveal in this painting. The mask covers my confusion. The crescent moon on my mask represents the crescent moon of Islam and is symbolic of progress. My name Luna or لونا means moon in Spanish and Italian. I painted my gold necklace with my name in Arabic لونا at the suggestion of my tutor, Marie. To symbolize the way I feel in my heart about becoming a Syrian American, I created a background for my portrait, using the coastlines and the flags of both of my countries. Then, with the help of my art teacher, Ray Vikete, I was able to show how I feel about pulling together two cultures by sewing the two flags together. You will see the sewing is not all the way to the top because my life as a Syrian American is a daily work in progress. That’s also why the needle is still on the painting. The green on the United States side represents a new chapter for me, a new form of life, and nature. The lavender on the Syrian side is a very light shade, a calming color. But to create this beautiful shade I needed to add some dark values to represent the dark times in Syria today due to the civil war and the recent earthquake. Syria is a very good country with rich land, but there are some dark sides to it right now. |
Since Lona Tarakji was old enough to hold a pencil, she loved to draw. As she grew, so did her passion for art. At MacKinnon Middle School in Wharton, New Jersey, Lona experimented with a variety of artistic methods. Currently her favorite medium is painting - especially with acrylics and watercolors. In seventh grade, Lona received her class’s Outstanding Academic Achievement Award for Art.
Lona learned how to start a business through TREP$, an after school workshop, where she learned the basics of developing and implementing a business plan. Lona’s first product line is inspirational bookmarks, with original watercolor backgrounds. Her second product line is Lulu’s Pearls: beaded necklaces, bracelets and rings.
Lona brings her artistic talents to baking by the detail she paints on holiday cookies. She loves to run, so she joined her middle school cross-country team after being introduced to the joy of running by participating in Girls on the Run when she was in fourth grade.
Lona finds inspiration in poetry – initially in Arabic, and since coming to the United States from Syria in 2016, in both Arabic and English.
Lona learned how to start a business through TREP$, an after school workshop, where she learned the basics of developing and implementing a business plan. Lona’s first product line is inspirational bookmarks, with original watercolor backgrounds. Her second product line is Lulu’s Pearls: beaded necklaces, bracelets and rings.
Lona brings her artistic talents to baking by the detail she paints on holiday cookies. She loves to run, so she joined her middle school cross-country team after being introduced to the joy of running by participating in Girls on the Run when she was in fourth grade.
Lona finds inspiration in poetry – initially in Arabic, and since coming to the United States from Syria in 2016, in both Arabic and English.
April 2023: Selected Poetry
Poems this month by Sydney Edmond as Part of our Autism Awareness & Acceptance Special Issue
Poems this month by Sydney Edmond as Part of our Autism Awareness & Acceptance Special Issue
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Tree Outside My Window
Featured in The Purple Tree and Other Poems by Sydney Edmond There’s a tree outside my window
It’s there for all to see But she knows And I know She’s there for only me. She only speaks in whispers That no one seems to hear But she knows That I do When night is drawing near. I love our conversations They fill my heart with joy But she knows That I know They’re just my wishful ploy. I am the tree, it seems Am really on my own But she knows So I know The seeds they have been sown. Like her I’ll pass the test of time I’ll ready, make my mark And she knows what I know It started with a spark. Outside
by Sydney Edmond I am outside, want to be inside A place for everyone. I am the other, the odd No one asking me to come. To put a person quite alone To make them ostracized To turn your back, your face, your ears Will make them realize That they are on the outside Where others like them dwell. They are on the outside Within a living hell. We want to be included A partner in the play. We want to be included In a very unique way. We will offer color We’ll brighten up your day we will play the other When everything is grey. And when the day is done And all are in the cast A smile will live on every face And we’ll forget about the past. |
Sydney with one of Her Paintings
Photo Courtesy: Sydney Edmond Sydney's Journey
Sydney Edmond is a 30-year-old woman who is a poet, a painter, an autism advocate/speaker, and an adviser to the Autism Society Inland Empire in Southern California.
At age 21, a visit to the San Diego Museum of Art inspired Sydney to pursue painting. She paints in both watercolor and acrylic. Sydney’s artwork is frequently exhibited in her hometown of Temecula, California and has also been exhibited at the Artscape Exhibit in Riverside, California and the Oceanside Museum of Art.
Her future goal is to combine her poetry and artwork into a book.
"I am inspired by many things when I write poetry. The most frequent topic has to do with disability. When I write, I experience a wonderful sense of sharing myself with the world. When I write, I share my inner voice and educate people about those of us who are not typical, yet have so much to offer – those who want to live a life rich in purpose and creativity." ~ Sydney Edmond |
March 2023: Selected Poetry
Poems this month by Roberta Curley
Poems this month by Roberta Curley
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Beauty Issue
by Roberta Curley I open up warily, slowly -- like any May rose waking to its own intense beauty is the coast clear of interlopers who pilfer crimson sweetness? touch-touch they stroke, sniffing my velvet petals -- without permission I display my thorns -- my privacy at stake, my very rootedness can’t I boldly bloom? oh, the pitfalls….. of exquisiteness |
Howl From Hackensack
by Roberta Curley No tryst or travesty -- I need a proper bedmate To elate my pheromones Confuse my kaleidoscope Drown me in dandelions Canoodle my crevices Unearth my undulations Bask in my balmy berth My bed is no liar’s lair -- Hail a Renaissance man Honest as the moon With Satchmo brilliance Add Ella reverberations Tony’s silk pipes -- A man to clutch A man who comes back Cross me and I’ll Burn like a comet in Your rival’s arms -- They’ll hear you howl From Hackensack Growling to break free From the doghouse |
Roberta Curley has lived in Greenwich Village, New York City, for forty-five years. She started writing poetry sixteen years ago when a rhyming poem popped out while journaling. Her work has been published in West View News, The New York Times Metropolitan Diary, Thrive Global, Q Review Anthologies, Tamarind, and Jefferson Market Library Poetry Workshop Anthologies. Her poem “Palm Fronds” appeared in the spring 2019 issue of Penn Review. She has written approximately 150 poems - subjects ranging from pineapples to the pandemic. Contact: [email protected]
January 2023: Selected Poetry
Poems this month by Elizabeth Fairleigh
Poems this month by Elizabeth Fairleigh
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Fighting Spirit
by Elizabeth Fairleigh Crying bird What is wrong? This is not a happy song. Something’s wrong. You’ve lost your way. I want to help But can’t today. It hurts my heart to leave you there So distressed Deep despair. What can I do to ease your pain? No more of this can you sustain. Grim reality setting in. No idea where you’ve been or what to do. Now tide is high And nature paints her blood red sky. I must leave you now. But first a prayer. It’s not because I do not care. Hope to God you are spared. And home you fly. Your soul laid bare. |
Reflection
by Elizabeth Fairleigh Mirror, mirror on the wall, Looking back at me. I stare into the crystal ball. Strange reflection I recall. Who is this I see? Mirror, mirror on the wall. Spirits floating in the hall, Dying to be free. I stare into the crystal ball. Now I’m standing six feet tall, Towering over thee. Mirror, mirror on the wall: This is not my face at all. Do one and one make three? I stare into the crystal ball. Will you catch me if I fall, Or will you let me be? Mirror, mirror on the wall, I stare into the crystal ball. |
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Elizabeth Stevenson Fairleigh is a former journalist and award-winning newspaper editor. She has been writing poetry since she was 14. Over the years she has written more than 125 poems and is compiling them into a book titled The E Collection: Poems from the Heart, which her artistic daughter will illustrate. When not writing poems, she runs a PR firm, thE Connection. She lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband of 27 years. Together they have a daughter who is a senior at the University of Georgia, a leopard gecko named Leona, a fire bellied toad, and an aquarium full of tropical fish! |
