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 Amazon.com. 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....









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. 

HAIR

The cinnamon spice tea

has kept me awake

I knew it would

but its taste and

the orange color of the

wrapper

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

there:

Dahlia bulbs

spared by the squirrels,

and the unbudgeable roots of the

never-say-die

grass

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

hoofbeats 

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

untouchable. 

LAKES

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

undulating,

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?  

ROAM THE EARTH

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

ROAM THE EARTH

-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

backyard

forging sculptures

for parks and museums,

yet never made one

of me.

Our time together was

swift

I met the daughters

mentioned

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!