APRIL/MAY 2019 "SPRING" ISSUE

April/May "Spring" Theme Issue

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Unless otherwise indicated, all illustrations are the work of our Art Editor or taken from "royalty-free" open internet sources.

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Table of Contents

A Letter from the Editor

Poetry
Ross Balcom
   "Unicorn Days" 
Terri Lynn Cummings
   "Picnic"
Steven Wittenberg Gordon
   "Dwarf Daffodils"
Deborah Guzzi
   "Pinwheeling Palms"
Gene Hodge
   "Spring"
James Lepak
   "Easing Discontent"
John C. Mannone
   "Samara"
Avra Margariti
   "Portrait of the Mother, in March"
Karla Linn Merrifield
   "Vernal Sea Change" 
Vivian Finley Nida
   "Spring Ritual"
John Reinhart
   "spring"
James Frederick William Rowe
   "Spring" 
Howard Stein
   "Absence and Return" 
Charles A. Swanson
   "One of Spring's Most Common Flowers"

Poetry Review

Crossing the Double Yellow Line by Stellasue Lee

   Reviewed by Gene Hodge
Frequent Contributor News
Forthcoming

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A Letter from the Editor

Leaves-Spring-Out, more commonly known as "spring", begins in March in the northern hemisphere with the coming of the vernal equinox and ends in June with the coming of the summer solstice.  Although its arrival is unwelcome in some locales (Vermonters, for example, and Mainers I have learned recently, refer to spring as "mud season" and can't wait for it to end), spring is generally welcomed as a season of hope, renewal, and fecundity--ample inspiration for the poetically inclined and the mythologically minded.

Crocuses, tulips, and daffodils often precede the rain in April that brings even more flowers in May.  The leaves spring out of the barren branches of deciduous trees.  Sunshowers give birth to rainbows.  Birds gather materials for their nests, and the brightly colored males sing full-throated songs to attract their mates.  

Just as with Persephone and Demeter, the young and old may experience spring differently--the former with exuberant passion and energy, the latter with the wistfulness and nostalgia of those with more years behind them than ahead of them.  However young or old, when winter finally yields and the conditions of the new season are just right, one may experience a "perfect" day--one that is neither too hot nor too cold with gorgeous sunshine that warms without burning and brings light without blinding.   

The poems herein cover all the above and more.  This issue, perhaps more than any other, contains true Songs of Eretz.

Steven Wittenberg Gordon, MD

Editor-in-Chief

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Poetry

Unicorn Days

Ross Balcom

these are unicorn days

fleeting as rainbow hoof

and gossamer mane

these are unicorn days

dear as soft brown eyes

and golden horn

these are unicorn days

magic as ancient songs

and stories

these are unicorn days

days of Spring

soon departed

lost in whirlwinds

of light and love

and laughter

Editor’s Note:  How uncharacteristic!  I kept waiting for the axe to drop--for the unicorns to explode and for the silver-bloody pieces to form the first spring rain or something--in other words, a typical Ross Balcom poem.  This one reads like one of Gene's poems--certainly a departure for Ross!  SWG

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Picnic

Terri Lynn Cummings

Spring. Time to eat fresh

Pick strawberries, shell peas

rinse lettuce, grill asparagus

savor long, luscious moments

within earth’s bowl

Count purple martins

moving all they need

into high houses

freshened white

for their return

Butterfly lopes

through seas of leaves

breezes motionless

on a raft 

to roses flushed faces

Birds drift overhead 

as if tied with twine 

to the bench below 

Swings fly, far and wide 

as their arms allow

Lovers on a blanket

swim through clouds 

Dreams alight everywhere

like those of an infant 

milky fists open

Puppy waggles behind on 

ground’s roughage for a scratch

Throats of lilies fuzzle bees

Crumbs balance on ants’ backs 

All lodges of winter, empty

Poet’s Notes:  It was winter when I composed this poem. All I had was my wish for warm weather and what it may bring—fresh food prepared for a picnic basket, images of an ideal day in the park. I hope my wish comes true!

Editor’s Note:  This poem makes me long for spring a bit too--and I love winter!  Terri hits all of the important aspects with crisp imagery and fine lyricism.  SWG

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Dwarf Daffodils

"Dwarf Daffodils" | Digital Photograph | Steven Wittenberg Gordon

Steven Wittenberg Gordon

It pains me to leave your leaves behind

As I depart the soft Kansas prairie

For Maine’s hard rocky hills.

The dwarf daffodils I planted

Near the front stoop some years past

Were a gift from my beloved.

Asleep through winter’s deep chills

Their coming heralds the hope

Of springtime. I check daily

For their long leaves to poke

Through the leaf litter and then to find

Their little yellow flowers open at last

The first in my neighborhood to bloom

As if to say farewell, dispel my gloom.

Poet’s Notes:  I departed Kansas for Maine at the end of March to begin a new job providing medical care for military veterans. I am originally from upstate New York, and even after living twelve years in Kansas complete with buying a house and raising my children there, Kansas never felt like home--never, that is (Hallmark Movie Channel cliché though it may be), until I decided to leave.  

The dwarf daffodils, a gift from my wife that I planted about seven years ago, bloomed just before I left for Maine--strange, as no other daffodils in my neighborhood were blooming.  Their unexpected “farewell” lightened my heart and inspired this poem.

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Pinwheeling Palms

Deborah Guzzi

Melissa tumbles her palms smacking—

across the grizzled lawn’s dejected surface.

Grit covers her chewed nails.

Her bottom lands with a plop,

raggedy-jeans wet to a darker blue.

in the shape of a tractor seat.

Soon, the field will need to be mowed.

The kitchen windows stream with steam.

Mother writes “eggs done.”

Wiping her hands on her thighs,

this she-demon explodes upward—

whirling downward in

yet another dramatic pinwheel.

The tips of her seven-year-long braids

brush the ground. She lands standing

with a howl of delight.

Outside the backdoor, mother

changes the welcome sign from a snowman to

—purple pansies—spring crops-up

and pinwheels in, mother says,

“I remember when…”

Poet’s Notes: The exuberance of spring is brought to the fore in this verse through the use of metaphor. The symbolic use of the mother boiling eggs alludes to Easter. Eggs have been used as a symbol of new life for centuries. 

Mother and female child also show the progress of time from aged winter to rebirth in spring. The acrobatics are also a play on the theme.  I do hope I brought you back to when you remembered when. 

Editor’s Note:  I enjoy the vision of a girl cartwheeling on the lawn. In particular, I like the last stanza with the seasonal welcome sign and, “I remember when…”  TLC

Editor’s Note:  I echo the sentiments of the Assistant Editor and add that I enjoy the contrast between the exuberant delight of the child and the jaded routine of her mother at the coming of spring.  SWG 

About the Poet:  Deborah Guzzi writes fulltime. Her third book, The Hurricane, is available through Prolific Press. Her poetry has appeared in several prestigious journals throughout the world including the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, France, Hong Kong, China, Greece, and the United States.

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Spring

Gene Hodge

Everywhere . . . smiles, laughter, blue skies,

and happy faces,

sunshine . . . dancing shadows.

The rising of tree sap

from its winter sleep;

children running in open fields,

giggling buttercups, tickled by a frivolous breeze.

Deliberate footsteps of elderly people 

walking their dogs.

The screeching call of a soaring hawk,

lovers holding hands

beneath singing clouds . . .

and flowers, bursting from the soul of emptiness;

their beauty filling the sweet air,

as peace and joy—like a baby’s smile—

completes . . . fulfills existence. 

Poet’s Notes: It has been a rainy fall and winter in the South.  Sunny and warm days have been rare.  When they happen, on a Sunday afternoon—and spring in the air--it seems the whole world celebrates.  The parks come alive with activities. As a poet, it gives me the reviving opportunity to enjoy more than just the weather and people, but the beauty of becoming one with my observations.

Editor’s Note:  This is a comforting poem about spring, one that recognizes its beauty and that made me feel happy inside.  SWG

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Easing Discontent

James Lepak 

Playfully grazing the pane,

A greening bud at branch’s tip

softens its raps. 

After flurries of sharpness railed

Against insulating glass,

The aged tree signals 

With gentle obstinacy

Renewal once again. 

The hoarfrost from months before,

In perverse inversion, 

Would be erased in slender streaks

Like mad figures on a rink. 

Now, as a pleasant dullness 

Filters the scratching of restless nights

I invite sun-glinted rain.

Poet's Notes: When I wrote this poem, I was trying to encapsulate the whole feeling of a great transition in a tight space, both in the poem's length and its imagery, which turned out, in this case, to be a branch tapping a window.  I set up a dichotomy to emphasize the contrast between the two seasons, portraying winter as being sharp and cutting, and spring as soft and round. I also connected that softness with newness and the scratching sharpness with stubborn age. 

The new is curious and not fully formed, while the old is biting and stuck in its ways; yet, while one might expect old age to come with calm, it rages like "mad figures on a rink". Here, the emphasis on gradual ebbing is lessened, and a mild burst into softness brings immediate relief, though not a complete recovery--there is still incessant rapping.

Editor’s Note:  Alas, I live in a hotel in Maine now, but the window nearest my bed in the house I left behind in Kansas has a companion tree branch such as described in this poem.  I particularly enjoy the way James captures the hauntingly annoying aural qualities of the branch’s dance with the window with his alliteration and consonance in the opening stanza and the deliciously assonant “perverse inversion” in the third stanza.  SWG

About the Poet:  James Lepak is an ESL instructor who enjoys reading and writing poetry in his spare time. His work has also appeared in Isacoustic.

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Samara

Papery seedpods

Alate autorotators

         Whirligigs flickering

                   as if stiff feathers

                   falling wings

         from a tree

Thousands of you

launch each spring

         with every whim

                   of wind that takes

                   you into flight

         Spread your silvery

smiles all over

the open earth beneath

         and sleep

                   in its bosom until

                   the gentle rain

         awakens you

Stretch from your

two-year sleep

         Point your maple

                   fingers to the sun

--John C. Mannone

Poet’s Notes:  I’ve always been fascinated by the complex aerodynamics of a falling maple seedpod even when I didn’t understand the physics.  

Editor’s Note:  I enjoy this poem, 5-dollar words and all.  It brings back fond childhood memories.  The concrete nature of the poem is also a nice touch.  SWG

Art Editor’s Note:  As with most of the concrete poems we select for publication, I feel that this one illustrates itself.  JAG

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Portrait of the Mother, in March

Avra Margariti

My Atlas mother longs to set the world down

and lay her frost-pale cheek on a field of dandelions.

My housebound mother watches kids build snowmen in the street

and prays for the thaw.

My green-thumbed mother presses flowers between book pages

and waters them with her Alice tears.

My seasonally depressed mother watches The Secret Garden

while eating frozen berries in bed.

When I come home for spring break,

she holds me so tight, you’d think her name was Demeter.

Poet's Notes:  I wanted to write a poem about a mother missing her daughter, whose return she has come to associate with the arrival of spring. The reference to the myth of Demeter and Persephone felt organic, so I went with it.

Editor’s Note:  I suspect that many readers, myself included, relate to seasonal depression when housebound due to cold weather. Yet the ending, with its reference to the mother as Demeter, adds a nice twist to this poem about spring.  TLC

Editor’s Note:  I enjoy the way Avra metaphorically portrays the many aspects of spring--the physical aspects and the emotions thereby evoked.  The final image with the nod to the myth of Persephone is particularly nicely done.  SWG

About the Poet:  Avra Margariti is a social work undergrad from Athens, Greece. She enjoys storytelling in all its forms and writes about diverse identities and experiences. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Daily Science Fiction, The Forge Literary, Wolfpack Press, Argot Magazine, The Colored Lens, and other venues.

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Vernal Sea Change

Karla Linn Merrifield

I watch a red squirrel perch

on his haunches on a lakeshore piling

at my neighbor’s breakwall.

Across the lawn, out in the open, 

contemplating, he first seems a simulacrum

of a poet poised to compose an opening 

line—richly pelted, far-dazed.

Sitting there, it’s as if he is

inscribing with his elegant quill of a tail 

the twin blue vistas of Ontario and northern sky 

sprawling over the horizon. He senses

a poem coming to his wild animal heart. 

Then, crossing the distance to shore

to the old budding lilac that was not battered 

loose from its precarious edge last winter, 

I creep nearer to him. My diminutive

Rodentia bodhisattva remains still, staring.

He refrains from any chitter, wishes only

to take in the waves lapping. For more than

five long unguarded minutes he permits me

to listen with him, fearless, exposed.    

The fresh morning’s fresh breeze softens; 

the universe turns ever fairer in his wild animal soul.

Poet’s Notes:  For twenty-six years I watched spring come to the south shore of Lake Ontario, where the season was slower to arrive than just a couple miles inland. Frigid waters only reluctantly gave up their hold, but when they did, all creatures great (we humans) and small (robins, rabbits, raccoons…) frolicked in the newfound warmth, and I met their buoyancy with my own, welcoming an opportunity to indulge in anthropomorphism. It’s with great fondness that I recall in this poem one such moment of that sweet, long-awaited spring.

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Spring Ritual

Vivian Finley Nida

Dawn breeze  

with no clouds to sweep

ruffles feathers

of Rio Grande turkeys

nudges them from sleep

In tangled row 

of hardwoods between 

open field and creek

dozens perch 

safe in branches

Roosting hens 

make presence known 

Muffled yelps 

rise to crescendo as 

fly down nears

On the ground, all scratch 

for insects, lizards

grasshoppers, seeds

Hens roll soft purrs for contentment

cluck staccato for courtship 

Following ancient rites, imperious 

Tom gobbles, struts, fans tail feathers

iridescent copper with bands of 

onyx, mother of pearl, reflecting

golden light’s seductive gleam

Poet’s Notes:  After the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889, the abundant turkey population in the state was devastated by the influx of settlers.  By 1925, sightings of the birds were so rare that many thought they were extinct. Thankfully, conservation efforts have restored turkeys to every county in the state; on our family farm, we often see turkeys and wake to their calls.

Editor’s Note:  Having witnessed this kind of turkey behavior in upstate New York many years ago and more recently near my new home in Maine, I can safely say that Vivian has poetically captured this magical, ancient ritual, perhaps going back as far as the Saurian Age.  SWG

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spring

coiled jaws ready to snap
like fingers

                             over here

         and here

it'll get you
ready for the spotlight,
interrogate you
until you give in

                            dancing

with flowers in your hair

--John Reinhart

Editor’s Note:  This one is a little abstract, but I like it!  I especially enjoy the final image.  SWG

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Spring

James Frederick William Rowe

A narrow bridge of tension

Between the extremes of light and dark

Of cold and hot

Of wet and dry

Alone allows

The harmony of spring

Delicate, fleeting

How soon spring comes

How quick spring passes

Too easily lost

This melody

In the changes of the year

The dirge of winter is long and certain

So, too, is summer's symphony

And the autumnal concerto

Is yearly heard in the leaves and acorns

Yet there are entire years where the song of spring

Lasts but a single hour

And in that hour

When blossoms cup their ears to listen

And raindrops sit a silent audience

A-sparkle atop their seats of grass

The song is sung and every soul stirs

And all of nature joins to dance

Poet’s Notes:  Spring continues my simply titled sequence of seasonal poems, that have thus far included “Fall” and “Winter” (guess what my summer poem will be called?). And following a similar theme to “Fall”, this poem is about the music of the seasons. The focus is on how spring can sometimes be in tune for a fleeting instant. There are years where the feeling of spring lasts two or three weeks, and there are “springs” when I never think I had a truly "spring day". But when the conditions are just right, when the "narrow bridge of tension" is taut, it truly is the case that "the song is sung and every soul stirs / and all of nature joins in the dance".

Last year, a late spring day reached absolute perfection. It must've been late May or early June, and it was sincerely the most spectacularly beautiful day I've ever experienced. I also remember such a day in 1999, where the entire world smelled of the season, and I remember the joy of walking home from school and then throwing my windows open to let in the air.

As it so happens, the day I composed this poem was a pretty nice spring day—not quite so perfectly beautiful, but nice—and probably the first day of the year I'd say was a true spring day. It is fitting, then, that I spent that day writing this poem, composing it on the subway and then walking out into the lovely day.

Aesthetically, the poem is simple, consisting of four stanzas of six verses each. There is nothing especially complex here. I just wrote what I thought suited the theme the best and expressed well my central ideas and went well with the rhythm of my word choice and the feel I had for it.

Editor’s Note:  I enjoy the way James captures that fuzzy, often fleeting line between spring and the seasons that precede and follow it.  His comprehensive notes are illuminating and enhance the total literary experience as usual. SWG 

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Absence and Return

Howard Stein

After Ludwig van Beethoven, Sonata for Piano, E flat major, No. 26, Opus 81a, Les Adieux

Life has been like this

So long as I can remember,

Your going and coming and going again.    

You never quite settle in,

Completely unpack –

We mimic the seasons.

Fall is your leaving;

Winter, your absence;

Spring, your return;

Summer is the illusion

That you will stay.

I yearn mostly for spring,

Nameless joy, after unbearable sorrow.

This time, I thought,

Spring would remain forever.

I was wrong again;

It was just a matter of time

Before you left.

I should have known by now,

You were only passing through.

Poet's Notes:  Longing for spring has long been both poets' inspiration and a poetic conceit if not an alluring cliché. A poet can truly yearn for spring-as-spring from the depth of winter. Then, again, spring can serve as metaphor or simile.  In this poem, I think, spring is both a reality of Nature and a metaphor. 

At almost the same instant that I thought of writing a poem on my spring, Beethoven’s 26th Sonata for Piano, called Les Adieux, entered the inner ear of my soul.  Beethoven is sad and agitated by the departure of his great friend, piano student, and Archduke, and overjoyed at his return. 

In my own life, I confess that my first love is music. Much of the time, I think musically, and then thoughts and words, poems and essays, follow later. During my composition of the poem, Beethoven's piano sonata was inspiration, companion, and thread in the weave of the poem.

Editor’s Note: Howard has certainly put the "song" in Songs of Eretz with this one.  I cued up the Sonata on YouTube and listened to it as I read the poem a second time.  I was reminded of the myth of Hades, Persephone, and Demeter  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHBcKKtAI04&frags=pl%2Cwn.  SWG

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One of Spring’s Most Common Flowers

Charles A. Swanson

Grandma’s violets, 

dainty white with a splashed throat

like delft blue saucers,

fill the teardrop bed,

traffic circle at drive’s end,

fill my memory.

Now, when I see them

by surprise here and there, they

are never common.

Poet’s Notes:  I have loved flowers as long as I can remember.  To stumble upon a bed of flowers in the woods—such as mayapples or jacks-in-the-pulpit—causes me such excitement that I want to tell someone.  I remember standing in the kitchen doorway and going on and on, telling my mother about cinquefoil I had seen on a wooded slope above the swamp.  Flowers in a flowerbed inspire a similar excitement, as well as flowers along the roadside.  So, I love spring, when the flowers begin to color the earth when they begin talking to me.

Editor’s Note:  This one has an elegant simplicity with a sprinkling of beautiful little moments, such as the assonance between the first and second lines and the double meaning of "teardrop bed".  SWG

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Poetry Review

Crossing the Double Yellow Line by Stellasue Lee

Reviewed by Gene Hodge

Stellasue Lee, Ph.D. reveals her charismatic personality and daring-do in her semi-autobiographical collection of poetry, Crossing the Double Yellow Line.  The very title of this collection of poems promises some excitement, and Lee does not disappoint.  She jumps right in by poetically sharing stories of how her alcoholic parents affected her early childhood.  Even poems about quotidian matters are here graced with charm and passion. Her travels carry the reader through personal relationships.  

Lee’s world of poetry is polished with intelligence, wisdom, and humor.  No poem in the collection better exemplifies this than the following, which appears toward the end of the collection:

I am living on the brink, I think,

as if my whole life stretched before me.

Today is my 57th birthday.

Abra cadabra, I say to the woman in the mirror

and push my arms through a T-shirt.

Open sesame, I say and pull on a pair of shorts. 

Magic, and the coffee maker clicks on.

This is how I start the day,

start another year,

start the rest of my life,

relentlessly— as morning turns the sky crimson.

This is a collection that readers will be inclined to read more than once.

Are you the author or editor of a poetry collection, a poetry magazine, or other long poetic work?  If you would like to see a review of your work published in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, please see our "Review Guidelines" section for details http://www.songsoferetz.com/p/review-guidelines.html.

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Frequent Contributor News  

FC Ross Balcom is pleased to announce that his poem "All Will Taste Death" was recently published in Spectral Realms #10, available through Hippocampus Press https://hippocampuspress.com/.

FC Sylvia Cavanaugh is pleased to announce that her poem "Why Do We Have to Have a Seating Chart?" was included in From Everywhere a Little: The Migration Anthology (Water's Edge Press). 

Assistant Editor Terri Lynn Cummings was pleased to host the Open Mic portion of the Chris Abani 20th Annual Featured Poet presentation at Oklahoma City University on April 4.

FC Richard Fenwick, currently on a Leave of Absence, reports that while it has been a stressful time for him and his family due to a serious health issue in a family member, he and his family are getting through the process.  Former FC John Reinhart has come out of retirement to cover for Richard.

Editor-in-Chief Steven Wittenberg Gordon, MD has moved from Kansas to Maine with the intention of finishing out his medical career in a new job serving his fellow military veterans.  Lana the Poetry Dog decided to remain in Kansas with Art Editor Jason Artemus Gordon.

Former FC Sierra July is pleased to announce that her short story, “Holed Up”, was recently published in Zealot Script https://zealotscript.co.uk/2019/03/07/holed-up-sierra-july/.

Former FC Mary Soon Lee is pleased to announce that her poem "Cherry Blossom 2050" recently appeared in NewMyths.com, Issue 46, https://sites.google.com/a/newmyths.com/nmwebsite/poems/cherry-blossom-2050.

FC John C. Mannone is pleased to announce that his found poem “What Are These” was published in Human/Kind Journal, Issue 1.3 (March 2019) https://www.humankindjournal.org/contrib_john-c-mannone/issue-13-john-c-mannone.  His poem “The Arbiter” was published in Eye to the Telescope, Issue 32 (April 2019) http://www.eyetothetelescope.com/.  And his poem “High Tension” and an experimental fiction piece “Found Inside an Event Horizon” were published in Sonic Boom Journal, Issue 14 (April 2019) https://sonicboomjournal.wixsite.com/sonicboom.

FC Vivian Finley Nida was pleased to lead a workshop, entitled “The Art of Writing”, for secondary students attending the Oklahoma Writing Project’s spring conference.

Former FC John Reinhart was recently honored by being asked to read his ekphrastic poem “Woman, Fly,” inspired by Katherine Bradford’s “Woman Flying” painting, at the Portland (Maine) Museum of Art’s Artword event.

FC Charles A. Swanson is pleased to announce that his poem “Reading Backwards” was published in the “Other Voices 2” section of the Irish e-zine The Blue Nib https://thebluenib.com/article/other-voices-2-individual-poems-selected-by-shirley-bell/.   Also, his poem “Succulents: Fat for All That Dryness” recently appeared in The River Heron Review https://www.riverheronreview.com/issue-21#/charles-a-swanson.

FC Alessio Zanelli is pleased to announce that his poem "At The End Of The Roadway" has been included in #56 of The Journal (Wales, UK) https://thesamsmith.webs.com/.  The Stray Branch published another poem of his poems and reprinted yet another one in the Fall/Winter 2018 issue  http://www.thestraybranch.org/.

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Lana the Poetry Dog

Forthcoming

The next issue of Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is due out in the middle of May, will feature Japanese form poetry, and will be edited by our Editor-in-Chief, Steven Wittenberg Gordon.  Submissions for that issue have closed, but we will be pleased to consider poems for our subsequent issue, due to be published in mid-June, which will feature science and science fiction poetry and will be edited by our Associate Editor, James Frederick William Rowe.  We have already published a Fantasy/Fairytale issue and have plans for a Hallowe'en/Horror issue, so we ask that you save your horror poetry for later and your fantasy poetry for another time.







The original paintings and drawings (and prints of them) created by our Art Editor Jason Artemus Gordon and used for the illustrations in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review are available for purchase with and without copies of the poems that inspired them.  Please visit our "Artwork Store" page for details http://www.songsoferetz.com/p/art.html.

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