Poetry

In youth every tree is a jungle gym
Sticks a call for a sword fight
The joy of pretend fills the imagination

As a teen, music and fun carry the tune
Rash, stubborn unwilling to listen
Blazing one’s stumbling path

As an adult, planning a family, buying a home
Too involved in the tango of life
Chasing dreams, creating NOW

Then, time suddenly speeds out of control
Etched lines and graying hair
Begin to camouflage the person

Observers only see past, old
They cannot imagine the vibrant
Person held prisoner within

Encapsulated in fading time
Mind, the last treasure
Dims leaving only snips of memory

The fear of not knowing
Crawls along synapsis of energy
Broken, misfiring

Faces swim into focus
And melt away
Leaving a blank canvas

—Diane Lobre

Diane retired from the Hawaii Public Health Institute (HIPHI), where she assisted with its mission of providing education and advocacy leadership on key public health issues. Prior to moving to Hawaii, Diane held a brief position with Bakersfield Life where she wrote profile pieces on local architects. She hopes that her association with WOK will push her to submit her work for publication

A silvered crescent moon smiles
on the sparkling icy snow-covered meadow below
Silent wolves gaze at the arctic sky
head erect, ears pulled forward
anticipating, anticipating

A clear crisp boreal sky is sprayed with stars
like bursts of wild flowers strewn on an alpine hillside.
In the distance, past the shadows,
the dark horizon blushes with a frosty glow,
bearing witness to the swelling overstep of prospectors and their gold mines
anticipating, anticipating

A quiver of nocturnal green
stretches across the vast stillness
then evaporates like a melting mirage
like foreplay, promising something more.
My desire broods like that of a young, inexperienced lover.
Will this be the night?

Without warning,
she dances across the night sky
with a kaleidoscopic hocus-pocus
emerald, rose, blond and lilac
shimmying with a boogie and a woogie
I only wish I could hear the sounds
inspiring her antics
as she smears the heavens with her joy.

Her name is Aurora
Her song is her own
Her light is within

—Anke Hodenpijl

Anke Hodenpijl developed a love for poetry as a youngster while learning to speak English as a second language. Poetry has always been her “happy place”.

WHERE ARE ALL THE ROSES
The sweet perfume of Spring
The promise of tomorrows
Each passing day would bring

And WHERE ARE ALL THE ROSES
I gave you through the years
At all those celebrations
Now marked with silent tears

How many times
I’d gaze into your young and laughing eyes
Those eyes which spoke of
Time that never ends and light that never dies

WHERE ARE ALL THE ROSES
They’re gathered in a spray
And placed here in your mem’ry
Now that you have gone away.

You dared to dream then made your dreams come true
My dreams came true the day I married you

WHERE ARE ALL THE ROSES
Each year a fresh bouquet
I bring to say your mem’ry
Lives in me every day

—Nelson Varon (Words & Music)

A musician and a writer of song lyrics & poems, Nelson Varon was also 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.

Thank You, God, for painting the sky tonight.
I needed to see that wondrous sight.
With the hues of the sunset, You gave me such delight;
You made me feel certain that everything’s alright.

Thanks also, God, for satisfying my need
For a glimmer of the afterglow ~ beautiful indeed!
I was glad to have taken the dogs out on their lead
Because, looking upward, pure joy was guaranteed.

Had I stayed inside, I surely would have missed
That picture-perfect moment, vividly sun-kissed,
When the horizon was captured in celestial mist.
It’s for special times like these that I exist.

I took several pictures with my iPhone at twilight
To share with friends and family, with whoever might
Wish to have a glimpse of this wondrous sight.
So thank You, God, for painting the sky tonight.

—Shelley Evans

Shelley Evans has been writing poetry most of her life. It was destiny, as she was named after the poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley. Many of her poems are inspired by the beach and are often written with her feet in the sand at Pismo. One of Shelley’s favorite activities is rhyming her way through life. Shelley has two poems published in the 2018 anthology, Writing Flora, Writing Fauna, A Collection of Poems from the Southern San Joaquin Valley.

Surveying this vast expanse
I experience a sense of eternity.

The salty ocean spray mists my face.
I dig deep into the sand
to find the moisture below.
The beach is rich with life.
Sea gulls squawk overhead
Pelicans skydive for supper
while sand crabs burrow deep
Limpets and mussels cling desperately
to wave-worn rocks.
A shell tumbles towards the shore
pushed by the last big wave.

At water’s edge, I yell in my biggest voice.
Fears, rage, sorrow,
hopes, longings and deepest desires
crashing out from a primal scream
Firmly and safely held by the powerful waves
and the thunderous sound of the surf.
The ocean holds them all.

Heaven and earth hear my prayer.
No more will I hide from life.
Transformation begins.
Dreaming turns into Doing.
Wishing becomes will-power.
Digging demands discovery.

I AM.

—Rose Lester

(Originally published in Writing Flora, Writing Fauna (2018). Used with permission of the author.)

Rose Lester is a Marriage and Family Therapist in private practice. As a true renaissance woman, she aspires to all things creative and is at home in a variety of creative mediums from song writing and singing, to playing her violin and guitar, to painting and sculpting, or writing poems about life and transformation. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and online websites. She volunteers for the Art for Healing program at Mercy Hospital and helps lead the Threshold Choir that sings at the bedside of those in need of comfort and peace.