Farewell 2014

Dear Friends of Eretz,

2014 was a great year for Songs of Eretz.  Last year, at this time, I made a New Year's resolution to read and present a new poem every day.  There were a few days missed, but I'm going to call that promise kept.

That resolution spawned the Poetry Review in June, which has since published the work of many poets, some of whom have impressive credentials, including:

 

A Former State Poet Laureate

6 Current or Former College/University Professors

An Emerson Prize Winner

A Rannu Fund Speculative Literature Award for Poetry Winner

An SFPA Elgin Chapbook Award Winner

A West Town Press Prize Winner

A Florence Khan Memorial Award Winner

A Red Ribbon Prize Winner

3 Magazine Editors

3 Pushcart Prize Nominees

A Dwarf Star Nominee

Most of the poets published in the Review have had other work published in other prestigious journals.  Many have also had poetry collections published.  And many more are up-and-coming poets whose voices are just beginning to be heard.  

The Review is going strong and here to stay with the work of many poets currently in the queue.  The Review also recently featured its first Poet of the Week, Carolyn Martin, who rapidly achieved "popular post" status from the exposure and promotion.

2015 will herald our first Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest winner.  The contest has been extended through January 15, so it is not too late to try to claim that title.  My goal is to make the contest an annual event, perhaps with guest judges, and hopefully for ever increasing amounts of prize money.

There were some sad moments this past year, such as our failed Kickstarter campaign, but we weathered them and emerged stronger.  As the year closes, I want to thank each and every one of you for your encouragement and support.

Happy New Year,

Steve

Steven Wittenberg Gordon

Editor

Poem of the Day: “Books I've Been Meaning To Read” by F. J. Bergmann

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Books I've Been Meaning To Read” by F. J. Bergmann.  Mrs. Bergmann’s work appeared previously in the Review where a brief bio may be found:  http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2014/06/poetry-review-special-feature-cosmic.html.

Books I've Been Meaning To Read

F. J. Bergmann

The books I've been meaning to read

cover the floor. They are meant to be 

read, someday. There are still a few 

patches of carpet showing. These are 

the books that matter, good books,

books that could show me the way. 

My husband swears if he trips on them

once more he'll ... A book can take you 

on a trip, a book is like a sailing ship.

These books are a flotilla, a fleet, 

an armada of sunken three-masters 

with their skeletonized crews, crazily 

skewed, littering the continental shelf.

They are important, they are mine, 

they are something I will get around to, 

he can get around them if he tries. I am 

trying, okay? I have not read them yet 

but when I do, everything will become 

clear and orderly. Somewhere in these

books, when I have the time to sit down 

and look through them carefully, there is

a book that will explain everything. 

That book will change my life: it will 

remedy all the deficiencies of fortune.

And it will pick up all the other books 

and put them away.

Poet’s Notes:  I worked in a used-book store (not to be confused with a used bookstore) for nearly a decade and spent far too much of my paycheck in the store itself. This was written at a time when the accumulation had gotten particularly out of hand. We have discovered that constructing a paperback-sized shelf at ceiling height all the way around the living room has freed up three bookcases--for more books, of course.

Editor’s Note:  Now here is a sentiment we bookish folk can certainly appreciate--and nicely expressed, too!

Contest Entry Deadline Extended

Many Friends of Eretz have requested an extension to the Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest deadline, citing the busy holiday season.  Your voices have been heard.  The deadline to enter (or re-enter!) the Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest has been extended through midnight CST on January 15, 2015.  See http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/p/songs-of-eretz.html for details.

Poem of the Day: "Have You Ever Kissed a Firefly" by Sierra July

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Have You Ever Kissed a Firefly?” by Sierra July.  Ms. July is a University of Florida graduate, writer, and poet. Her fiction has appeared in Acidic Fiction and Saturday Night Reader, among other places, and is forthcoming in Belladonna Publishing's anthology Strange Little Girls. Her poetry has been featured in both Songs of Eretz venues and The Society of Classical Poets. To follow her progress, check out her website: talestotellinpassing.blogspot.com.

Have You Ever Kissed a Firefly?

Sierra July

Have you ever kissed a firefly,

And felt the heat of summertime,

Seen the sparks behind your eyes

Succumbed to your insides melting,

And dreamed you could take wing?

Tasted the nighttime air on your tongue,

Balanced the sun and moon in your hands,

So like those flitting orbs, those fireflies,

Calling to their life mates, their lifeblood,

Have you ever?

Been guided out of that darkness

When the bitter cold has set in and

Has begun to nibble, then gnaw, then saw?

Have you ever been led

Some place warm?

And knew, like those fireflies drawn together

Magnetized then linked,

That you were home?

I haven’t kissed a firely,

But I haven’t missed a thing

Not a moment of wonder

By having instead kissed you.

Poet's Notes: This was written with the thought of how love is said to make you warm and give you a glow. One of my favorite bugs is the firefly, and I always wanted to incorporate them into my work somehow. One day I realized this was the perfect way.

Editor’s Note:  What an original, lovely conceit for a love poem!  Bioluminescent! 

Poem of the Day: "4 AM" by Jeremy Jusek

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “4 AM” by Jeremy Jusek.  Mr. Jusek’s work has been published previous in the Review here:   http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-songsof-eretz-poetry-review-poem-of.html where a brief bio may be found.

         4 AM

          Jeremy Jusek

The oak porch, peeling, creaks

            in tune with my knees.

            Another kind of heartbeat.

           

The ambassadors of morning,

            dew and mist, vanish.

Poet’s Notes:  Now that I live in Parma, a major suburb of Cleveland, I'm away from trees and surrounded by neighbors. I feel deprived of some fundamental things. Privacy. Calm weekends. Stars. There are many things I love about Cleveland, but I still feel the need to periodically capture the serenity that I miss so dearly. This is one of those attempts.

Editor’s Note:  I like the Japanese short form feel here as well as the crisp images and the metaphor about the heartbeat.

November 2014 Issue Receives Favorable Review

"Science Fiction Poetry Spokesperson" Diane Severson Mori included the November 2014 issue of Songs of Eretz Poetry E-zine in her "Speculative Poetry Round Up" in Amazing Stories http://amazingstoriesmag.com/2014/12/speculative-poetry-round-december-2014/.  

Amazing Stories was the world's first science fiction magazine and may be found in its new "social magazine for fans" form here:  http://amazingstoriesmag.com.  The stated goal of this current iteration is to bring back the magazine in a form similar to what it once was.  Support this cause (it is free to do so) by going here:  http://amazingstoriesmag.com/registration/.

The Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest

Has Entered Its Final Week!

Don't Miss Your Chance To Win

FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!

http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/p/songs-of-eretz.html

Poem of the Day: “The Boatman” by Christopher Hivner

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “The Boatman” by Christopher Hivner.  Mr. Hivner’s work has appeared previously in the Review where a brief biography may be found:  http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2014/12/poem-of-day-i-wrote-this-one-for-no.html.

The Boatman

Christopher Hivner

Inspired by Houses of Parliament, Sunset 1903, by Claude Monet

The boatman skimmed the water

broken shafts of sunlight

buoying his craft

as he traced the shadows.

The buildings loomed

stealing the dying light

to hold for tomorrow,

their reflections

river monsters in repose.

The lapping of the water

against the hull

carried the captain

to home,

calm reassurance

he was where he

was supposed to be.

With a wink

to the ministers on shore

he prayed

they did their job

as well as

he did his.

Sun setting,

another day ending,

the boatman skimmed the water

reaching for the horizon

on the other side

of the shadows.

Poet’s Notes: I’ve always loved the silhouette of Parliament among the swirl of color in Monet’s Houses of Parliament, Sunset (one of the series is pictured). But the longer I stared at the painting I couldn’t help but wonder about the man in the boat. Who was he? Why was he on the water? The boat is small so it seemed like a fisherman’s boat or at least one belonging to a workingman of some kind. With the sun going down I saw him trying to get home to his family, passing by the impressive buildings with equal amounts of wonder and disdain.

Editor’s Note:  This is a good ekphrastic poem.  I am willing to wager that most observers of the paintings do not give much thought to the boatman, so it is interesting that Mr. Hivner chose to tell a story from the boatman's perspective.

Poem of the Day: "out of orbit" by John Reinhart

The Songs of Eretz Poetry Review Poem of the Day for December 21, 2014 is "out of orbit" by John Reinhart.  Mr. Reinhart's work has appeared frequently in the Review.  He also has been published in the November 2014 issue of Songs of Eretz Poetry E-zine where a brief bio may be found http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/p/e-zine_3.html.

out of orbit

John Reinhart

with sullen glances

they tolerate

our indiscretions,

the flitting trees

and fickle wind,

sitting silently

in communion

with comets

shot across the sky

the stones do not

speak any more

to blighted beings

lost in motion.

They wait

and sing

their hymns

of sacred sorcery –

transforming layer

by layer

this simple rock

forgotten in the

sandy bay

of hesitant stars

and certainty

Poet’s Notes:  Rocks are great metaphors--until someone throws one through your window. And what say does the rock have in any of this? Careening some unmarked course, biding its time with more universal concerns, or orbiting patiently until the window opens, biding its time until it's time. The miracle of meaning is layered on the miracle of language, which is layered on the miracle of sound, which sounds great when the surfaces are stone, collecting their own stories for another time.

Editor’s Note:  I like what Mr. Reinhart has done here with the juxtaposition of rocks in space, the rock of earth, and the trees.  Reinhart’s thoughtful use of alliteration greatly enhances the aural quality of the poem.

Poem of the Day: “Isaac: Chapters One to Wondering” by Carolyn Martin, Poet of the Week

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Isaac: Chapters One to Wondering” by Carolyn Martin, Poet of the Week.  A brief biography of the poet may be found here:  http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-songs-of-eretz-poet-of-week-for.html.

Isaac: Chapters One to Wondering

Carolyn Martin

It well behooves the son of Abraham

to understand the voice his father hears.

My mother learned this long ago:

that Yahweh’s laugh is always last and bears

more gifts than hearts can hold.

“Heaven has its humor,” so she claims,

and speaks again the laughter of my name.

“To worship,” was his ploy – that strong old man.

With men and donkey left a sight behind,

and ram nor thicket in our point of view,

we started on our holocaustal climb

to pay my father’s Lord his chosen due.

Naiveté is a blessing on such days.

It watched him altar wood with fire and grace,

missed the trembling in his chosen hands,

the sighing in his old man’s chosen face.

It saw the sun caress his blazing knife

and heard a voice call for the sacrifice.

“Heaven has its humor,” so they say.

(The angels laughed at last in father’s eyes.)

     

But still I try to grasp that chosen day,

to wash the smell of rams out of my mind,

to see the joke in flames that I survived.

“A test,” is all my father ever says.

Inside our tent my mother laughs my name.

They hold the stars and sands as their rewards.

But I, I cannot laugh. I fear unchosen fame

and the presents of my parents’ laughing Lord.

Poet’s Notes:  As a young nun and new poet in the early 70s, I tasked myself with rewriting biblical stories from a woman’s point of view. The story of Sarah and Abraham was my first successful attempt. I loved the scene where Sarah laughs in her tent when she overhears three messengers tell Abraham that he and she are going to have a child. And, I was tickled by the fact that their son Isaac was given a name that in Hebrew sounds like laughter.

This led me to “Isaac: Chapters One to Wondering.” To prove his faithfulness to God, Abraham is commanded to take his only son up a mountainside and sacrifice him. While Abraham is lauded for his obedience in following these instructions, I wondered how Isaac felt about God and his father. This poem written in his voice is no laughing matter.

After reading  “Isaac” at a local temple a few years ago, a man well versed in Hebrew Scriptures informed me that, after that mountain trek, Isaac never spoke to his father again.

Editor’s Note:  This is an interesting take on the old story from the POV of Isaac.  Martin’s plays on the Hebrew meaning of Isaac's name--mocking, joyous, ironic, bitter--are well done.  “Isaac: Chapters One to Wondering” was first published in Sisters Today, 1975.

Poem of the Day: "Salieri, after a performance of Mozart’s The Magic Flute at Freihaus-Theater auf der Wieden, October, 1791" by Carolyn Martin, Poet of the Week

Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Salieri, after a performance of Mozart’s The Magic Flute at Freihaus-Theater auf der Wieden, October, 1791” by Carolyn Martin, Poet of the Week.  A brief biography of the poet may be found here:  http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-songs-of-eretz-poet-of-week-for.html.

Poet’s Notes:  A poetry workshop assignment to watch the movie Amadeus inspired this poem. The teacher asked us to focus on the scene where Salieri sits in a balcony half-hidden by red drapes as he watches Mozart’s fiery performance. I must admit I played the famous coloratura’s aria from The Magic Flute over and over while writing this.

Editor’s Note:  I enjoyed this treatment of the subject and was definitely reminded of when I saw the film Amadeus long ago.  I strongly suggest that readers go here  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2ODfuMMyss to cue up the coloratura’s aria and listen to it while reading the poem.  The poem was originally published in Carolyn Martin, Finding Compass (Portland, OR: Queen of Wands Press, 2011).   

Salieri, after a performance of Mozart’s The Magic Flute

at Freihaus-Theater auf der Wieden, October, 1791

Carolyn Martin

 

The cheap seats love the man.

Each night he lures them from slogging streets

into the pomp and pageantry of fairy tales

with music that makes the angels cry.

They love the oboes courting flutes, bassoons          

entwined in clarinets; strings outracing

trombones, trumpets, tubas, horns

toward kettledrums shuddering the boards

beneath their feet. They care not for scores

or virtuosity. They want delight—

magic doors, scenes that fly,

finales—and more, und mehr.

I hide behind red drapes high

above the crowd, and watch them watch

the note-barrage shooting from his fingertips. 

And when the coloratura soars

toward F above high C, I catch them catch

their breath before their “Bravos!”

seize the chandeliers where magic drips

from candle wax. The pulse-throb

of the aria vibrates my skin.

I want to cry. Divinity has voice.

But when the curtain falls

the deafening applause unhinges me.

“Encore! Encore!” reminds

this lesser child of God,

he’s fated second-best.

Heaven-hurt, I never could compose

so many notes across a page;

never could raise a mundane crowd

above its seats as that little man

with fire in his fingertips.