Saturday, May 3, 2014

Coffeeshop Writers - I bring three poems: Lakes, Hair and When He Roamed the Earth

Beatriz's iPad Photo of her son Steve Peters, a talented cartoonist, who was at Brave New World Comic Book Store on Moreland Road across from K-Mart, making sketches of people. I thought I'd get mine done until I saw the huge queue.

I knew one person there - Doug - a writer from our Willow Writers Group at the Upper Moreland Library.

Beatriz got a SKYPE call from someone in her native Argentina. Darn! We couldn't eavesdrop since she was speaking Spanish.

Beatriz produced one of her wonderful Pollinator pieces, this time about a Bradford Pear Tree she looks at outside the Abington Library.

Lady beetles tipped her off.Where there are lady beetles, there's bound to be aphids and there they was, the little suckers. And, that, in fact, is what they do. Very harmful to the tree, but aphids have many enemies so the tree doesn't do a George Washington.

Beatriz is a popular presence on FB. Not only with her family in Argentina, but with the Birds and the Bees people. One of her columns got 1,000 hits. She received a note from highly acclaimed children's author Rita Gray. 

Rita asked B to review one of her books.

What an honor! I hadn't realized you pay people to review books. B discussed the fee with some friends and decided upon $100, which I thought is quite fair.

I've reviewed dozens of books and products on When Karl Rickels, MD, came to speak at my support group he had mailed me a copy of his autobiography which I reviewed here.

Speaking of Amazon, I have been hot on the trail of an automatic coffeemaker to buy. I ordered one on Amazon yesterday. Look what arrived today

Scott put it together. The only features I care about is a glass carafe and ease of use. A clock is not important since I don't want the coffee waiting for me when I wake up.

Or do I?

The main thing, tho, is that I don't wanna get addicted to it again.

Hmmm, maybe I will have some now.

I try to get photos of people when they're not posing.

A Safe Place to Write is Donna's contribution. Just about every poem she writes has been published at
Idea Gems - Portland, OR - where she has a special relationship with the publisher Laurie Notch.

So what's happened? Laurie wrote Donna that she's leaving! Naturally this would cause worry, but my guess is that if Laurie liked her work, so will the other editors.

One of her lines read "I felt wanted and talented."

We can relate!!!

I told the group I wrote a short story A Woman of Substance that was immediately accepted by The Final Draft. I'm waiting and waiting for the editor to contact me. And what do I discover when I find the link to The Final Draft?

It doesn't exist.

More cinema verite.

Carly brought in a story that had three motifs - weight loss, a mother's influence and hypnosis. Our main character Bonnie ate at the Hatboro Dish. 

Will Carly's story make The Dish famous?

Linda Barrett was eating a flaky croissant she got in the bakery. She read a fascinating Christian poem she's gonna give to one of the parishioners at Trinity Orthodox Presbyterian.

Titled The Yonans: God's People, it told the tale of the Yonan family who emigrated from Syria, which is both a Christian and Muslim country. Linda wants to present the poem to young Mr Yonan, so it better be good!

A Yonan ancestor was trekking across the frozen grounds of Europe, when he and his wife noticed their infant child had fallen out of the wagon (!!!)

They retraced their steps and found the baby crying in the snow, protected by God. A detail never to be forgotten.

I succombed to temptation - or praps curiosity - and brewed my first cup of coffee from the Hamilton Beech. B/c I did not follow direx and had no idea what I was doing, the coffee is weak and has a few grounds in it.

I do not wanna stay up until four in the morning, but if I do....

"In Paradise" by Peter Matthiessen. (From the book jacket)

My friend Blanche Lipshutz called and asked me to recommend a book for her daughter. I suggested these three with the caveat that she agree with me. I ordered the Shakespeare one for myself on Amazon.

I've gotta go over these poems but am leaving now for an overnite. At our party, we'll watch Cabaret on PBS. 


The cinnamon spice tea
has kept me awake
I knew it would
but its taste and
the orange color of the
pulled me toward it
like a long lonely
sunset in Texas.

I like being awake
too long will we sleep
with the worms
though I suppose
more pleasant
things dwell down

Dahlia bulbs
spared by the squirrels,
and the unbudgeable roots of the

And, then, too,
my father and my
brother who folklore
says I will see once again

Lying in bed
hand on heart to
slow the caffeine
I feel the slow wind
caress my hair

Blond today
from the Korean stylist
hair thin as
a slice of moon
I feel it
soft as a silken bridal gown
and the tail feather of
the chickadee


Darkness all around
as the wipers slash
the pounding rain
Coming home from the
library, I quick-look into
the parking lot of the train
station. Has Scott
gone on board?

All’s I see is a lake
lights, like fallen
stars, twinkle
inside, and hold their breath

Suddenly my road
turns into a
swamp, my tires
splashing like
an alligator’s tail
Oncoming cars are
blurs of colored lights
“Stay your course,” I cry,
from some forgotten
Joseph Conrad
novel of the sea

A car takes a puddle
deep as an abyss
seeming to splash my
eyeglasses, as
my vision expires
and I wonder
Will I drown?

My car knows
the way, a boat,
we sail upstream
in the darkness
to my house on
Cowbell Road
Who has turned on
all the lights?
Who has made this
home for me?  


-You could lose someone a little, but they’d still roam the earth – Lynn Levin


-You could lose someone a little, but they’d still roam the earth – Lynn Levin

My great love roamed the earth
sixteen years without me
what a comfort to know
he was here
on this endless planet
where, alone and
in Paradise,
he worked in his
forging sculptures
for parks and museums,
yet never made one
of me.

Our time together was
I met the daughters
in the obituary
as was Deborah, the
wife he finally
left. She called him constantly
a yo-yo on her string.

What didn’t you like about me?
Ah, the great mystery of
The Rejected
Last week, cleaning out
a dusty old drawer
I came upon an envelope
of photographs
There you are,
your laughing face
your flannel jacket,
blue Mazda truck,
I’d captured them all

All but you.
And will not reject you ever
Your photos stay with me
and that one autumn day
you took me downtown
and showed me The Wissahickon Gate
in the heart of the city.
My heart burst like a plum
That I knew you!
That I knew you!

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