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Poetry

17 April 2020 | NPM Poetry Webslam

By 

                                                     
No Homilies, Please!
(an Italian Sonnet-1975)
by LaVerne Lovelady
 
Don’t tell me to accept the things I see!
The ills my mother suffered at the hands
of sexist attitudes, were not the Plan
of Father God, but that of bigotry.
Don’t speak to me that lie about my Place,
with child, at home, without the pow’r of choice;
nor ask me speak, with condescending voice,
submissive to this patriarchal race.
 
For there are ways of death I will not choose;
from weapons only feckless fools contrive.
I fight a fight I do not dare to lose.
The fire within burns blessed, and will survive,
     to purify the fiendishly obtuse;
       to purge the dross — restoring burnished lives.

LaVerne Lovelady is a 30-year veteran teacher of English and Interpretive Fiction. Her poems, essays, memoirs, and political commentary have been published in various publications through the years, including the WOK Anthology 2017 and CWC Literary Review.  Her first novel The Quay Question was recently published.    LaVerne is a native Oklahoman, a direct descendant of the Alabama Creek Path Cherokees. She lives in Bakersfield with three adorable cats: Soo-Lin, Siam, and Miss Kitty.

15 April 2020 | NPM Poetry Webslam

By 

Siddhartha Transformed                                                            
by Portia Choi
 
Siddhartha in lotus repose,
palms touching in mind and heart,
soles raised in gratitude.
He was breathing with his brother, the bodhi tree.
 
He inhaled morsels of wisdom, 
and exhaled the encumbrances
of his past – castle, wife, feasts –
memories evaporating like a mist.
 
He lived the rock years of self-denial and hunger-
only sitting and breathing: seldom eating or thinking.
With each breath, he emptied his mind of delusions;
breathing in sparks of Truth.
 
One breath then another breath, continuing for years and years.
 
In time,
Siddhartha’s orange garment covered a being of light.
Its energy oozing from all his pores
that flowed upward into a cosmic Oneness.
                                                                                     
His mind opened.
He became Buddha
to serve, to heal  and
free “all beings from suffering.” 
 

Portia Choi published a chapbook of her poems Sungsook, Korean War Poems. At Writers of Kern meetings, Choi met Helen Shanley and MaryLou Romagno who became good friends and mentors. Choi hosts First Friday Open Mic and publicizes National Poetry Month in April.  She administers www.kernpoetry.com.  Contact Choi [email protected].

14 April 2020 | NPM Poetry Webslam

By 

Morning
by Natalia Corres        
 
 
The cat is doing her morning laps,
mine and then my husband’s
as we sit captive in front of our computers,
working from home.
The dog has melted into a dark snoring
puddle on the carpet after our
morning adventure of a mile or more
in the neighborhood.
It is a pensive quiet.
We can feel the world breathing softly.
Waiting for the next chapter in
the story that is being written for us
worldwide; like the cliff hangers of old –
will there be a new challenge
as soon as this one seems over?
Or will we have a respite?
The cat cares not as long as my lap is available.
The dog continues his gentle snore.

Natalia Corres has worked in technology for a few decades and now spends her time in creative pursuits. An active member of the California Writers Club – Writers of Kern (www.writersofkern.com) branch, she lives with her husband, their dog and their cat in their sanctuary in suburbia.

13 April 2020 | NPM Poetry Webslam

By 

The Traveler
by Nelson Varon                                           
                                                     
Beads of sweat began to gather on his brow,                                                                                           
Waiting for their moment to slowly                                                                                              
Trickle down the face of the weary traveler.
 
Rather than over earthly roads,                                                           
His was an arduous, painful journey
Through times remembered.                                                                                                         
 
Bitter memories crowded the pathways of his mind.                                                                                
As droplets of perspiration merged with tears
Of long-buried emotions yearning to be released.                                           
 
Hidden for too long, they soon join forces to become                           
An uncontrollable flood of enraged sadness                                                
With power enough to break through the traveler’s protective facade.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
                                         

In addition to being a musician and a writer of song lyrics & poems, Nelson Varon was a NYC school teacher, the founder of Nelson Varon Organ Studios in NYC,       a published songwriter & author of PlayNow Method For All Organs. He wrote  feature articles for The Music Trades  magazine, and How to Open a Piano & Organ Store (a chapter in the industry publication, How To Open A Music Store) and the short story, Fixing Things. 

He was also the founder, publisher & editor of The Music & Computer Educator magazine, and the founder of Kern Piano Mall, in Bakersfield.

12 April 2020 | NPM Poetry Webslam

By 

Oma
by Anke Hodenpijl
 
 
Memories,
freckled with childhood secrets,
return her to the smooth, blue-sky place of her youth.
She smiles with each private thought
remembering coconut trees, rice paddies and long sunsets
a new doll for her birthday, Babu making gado-gado
and thinking these times would never end
 
she wants to live alone
says she has her thoughts to keep her company
needle point to keep her busy
and “Dancing with the Stars” to feed her fantasies
 
friends no longer visit
either dead or too far away
kids all live out of state
 
she sits in the back yard
hummingbirds and roses
coffee in a delicate porcelain cup
a morning breeze
 
a schoolgirl rides her bike home
brothers tease and protect her
tea parties with sisters
 
mother and father don’t die
 
 
No one tells me what to remember.
That’s why.
 

Anke Hodenpijl is a bedside singer, poet, gardener and safe spot for animals. She is inspired by nature, family, history, friendships and unfinished stories. Mostly, she is a grateful person.