Mark Hudson ...6
Emiliano Martin...3
Jacqueline Moffett...9
Prabha Nayak Prabhu
Susanna Roma...11
Constance Trump...7
Lucille Morgan Wilson...13
Maureen Applegate...8
Michael Bourgo...10
Selma Calnan...12
Gail Denham...14
Marilyn Downing...2
Lynn Fetterolf...5
Ann Gasser...4
(Poems by PPS members —Electronically-shared)copyrighted by authors
28 lines or less, formatted and illustrated by Ann Gasser with digital paintings, digital collages,
and other shared images.unless stated otherwisePPS members are invited to submit.
Deadline for receiving—1st of each month, poems appearing in order receivedTarget date for sending out—10th of each month
“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”– The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS, (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.)
July2012012012018888
1.
2.
GETTYSBURG VISITED BY THE ANGEL OF DEATH
—by Marilyn Downing
Imagine a quiet town of 2400 souls surrounded by
farmlands, woods, and gentle hills, with an orderly
square, shops, churches, a college, modest homes.
Imagine a July 3, 1963 morning with farmers tending livestock,
milking cows, women in kitchens baking the daily bread,
preparing for routines of family life.
Imagine three days of wartime hell, North and South armies
ebbing back and forth, pausing at night to regroup,
to resume the frightful fray each dawn.
Imagine the aftermath, living burying dead, tending wounded,
disease and death continuing for weeks to come, claiming
53,000 souls, North and South.
Let us remember in Abraham Lincoln’s immortal words:
These dead shall not have died in vain… that this nation under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that the government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth.
3.
OFTEN
—by Emiliano Martin
We often can be the shadow
between the dream
and the actual
behavior of ourselves.
We can also be forgotten
in the midst making us feel
right or wrong…but never free.
Even pretending to hide
behind masquerading verses
snsitive to our will.
4.
NATURE’S THERAPY
—by Ann Gasser
Wrap me in wonder of lush meadow grass
and sun-sparkled ripples as soft breezes pass.
Wrap me in wonder of gold daffodils,
and the misty blue sadness of far hump-backed hills.
Wrap me in wonder of pink flowering trees,
dilligent ants and invincible bees.
Wrap me in wonder of azure blue sky
as I glory in fleets of cloud-ships sailing by.
Wrap me in wonder of sweet chirping birds
and the deep forest’s symphony—sung without words.
Wrap me in wonder of mountains that rise
in glory to form a feast for my eyes.
Wrap my ears in the sweet lullabye of the sea
as it echoes the bliss of Eternity—
For a while then, all Earth’s thorny problems will cease,
as I am wrapped gently in Nature’s peace.
inspired by radio program“Jack’s Backyard” on Saturdaymornings 8:00 to 10:00(to tune in Google WEEU)
5.
I SAW MOURNING DOVES KISSING
—by Lynn Fetterolf
This morning I saw mourning doves kissing.
Unaware of my presence and watching eyes
they kissed and kissed,
heads bobbing to and fro,
necks entwining, beaks touching.
I felt so fortunate to be the voyeur
watching this wonderful display of love,
this tenderness so necessary to
each creature sharing this
incredible sphere called earth.
These doves return here
year after year but never before
have I been privileged
to witness their mating.
This is the greatest gift of Spring,
bringing me this magical moment.
6.
FOURTH OF JULY-
the good, the bad, and the ugly
—by Mark Hudson
The Fourth of July-the red, white, and blue,
some people might be happy, others sad.
You might be one of the sad ones, too.
Maybe the politicians make you mad.
I heard a lady say that it was true,
three deaths in the family made her feel bad.
Because of that, her depression grew.
For others, it is a day to be glad,
sleeping all day helps the body renew.
I hope that there is no foreign jihad,
We celebrate in peace, as war continues.
I wonder if the soldiers serving overseas,
think on this day of us who have ease.
7.
THE JAZZ AGE
—by Contance A. Trump
In nineteen hundred twenty eight,
though few are here who can now relate
how a candy pink confection arose
to strike the sugar sand beach a pose.
Set amidst lush, tropical flora
it lent a most attractive aura,
aqua waters flowed right by
beneath a blazing Florida sky
with marshmallow clouds that seemed to say,
“Leave cares behind, come along and play.”
They came by boat, by plane, by car
to revel in the Don Ce-Sar
where one can go enjoy today
the elegance of yesterday!
8.
THE LOTTERY
—by Maureen Applegate
She bought a ticket at the store and placed it on her shelf.
Never scratched the silver off revealing any wealth.
“It could be several thousand, or a million. Maybe more!
As long as it still sits there I imagine what’s in store!”
She’s cruising Grecian islands, she’s climbing Everest…
seen the birds of Paradise and found the condor’s nest…
gone swimming with the humpbacks and walked the Chinese wall.
As long as circles stay untouched she’s seen and done them all.
Then she changes bedclothes for the umpteenth time that day,
and fetches drinks of water as he slowly wastes away…
the lottery that called her keeping sorrow far at bay.
9.
WOMEN WHO INSPIRE
—by Jacqueline Moffettt
Several women inspired me
to stretch my mind and soul
do your best, advised Mother
I can ask no more of you
English teacher revealed the
beauty of our language
personal growth was weekly
enhanced by a caring librarian
inspirational hymns played by our
organist remain with me to this day
so many sisters to thank
for sharing their outlook,
their enthusiasm for life
and all it has to offer
blessings are enumerated as I
contemplate the passage of time
10.
MY LAST GARDEN
—by Michael Bourgo
“I want death to find me planting my cabbages, careless of death, and still more of my unfinished garden.” --- Michel de Montaigne, Essays (1580)
Well, sir, I have the honor of your name,
share your love for the garden,
and concur on final matters,
but I’d love to set the time,
aim for my last moments
in September or October.
I care as little as you
about this imminent departure:
it can come when it will,
but I would be most pleased
to leave some lettuce and squash
for those who survive—
good food (surely no small matter),
and a sliver of my faith—
in seeds, if nothing else.
from his book
Memories Past and Present copyright 2016
DREAMS ARE TRAPPED IN DAISIED FIELDS
—by Susanna Roma
It was a time of dreams, a simple life—
with daily chores accepted and performed
with no objection; a time of life's blossoming-
of youthful visions that filled the hours,
as I carried pails of water from the spring,
as I guided gentle “Bossy" to the pasture,
as I scampered through daisied fields
solemnly probing the petals for answers,
he loves me-he loves me not—
as I gathered wild berries from bog and
meadow, skipped past the spring-house,
up the hill where East and West winds met
and wrestled the tall, wild reedy grass,
Today, in the over-grown lane,
I press through a narrow path.
The cottage that enclosed my dreams is gone.
No buckets wait beside the stone spring-house,
covered with clinging sumac. The stalls inside
the sagging stable are empty. The unmown
fields are flecked with white and gold—the
daisies have remained but daisies long have
lost their magic. And still the wild winds sigh
above the lonely hills.
11.
from her book“THROUGH DAISIED FIELDS”available through lulu.com for $15.00
12.
PREDICTIONS OF OUR EXTINCTION
ATale of Two Birds— “Henny Penny” and Bryant's ”Water Fowl”
—by Selma Calnan
How do those spoilsports through the ages
earn a place among the sages?
They find their misanthropic jollies
in vast wastelands of Fate's follies.
There with Alice through the mirror,
they view life darkly, always drearier
by honing their predictive skills
to thwart their peers—folks of good will.
And quoting Mother Goose's tale—appalling
the hen who cried, "The sky is falling!"
Ignoring Bryant's bird in flight
'toward some safe haven out of sight.'
Forgetting in their dour discussion
poor Henny'd suffered a concussion.
from her book POEMS WORTH A SECOND LOOK
13
EVEN ICARUS FELL
—by Lucille Morgan Wilson
From opened chrysalis on new wings soaring
into a night that bears it swift away,
with species' instinct in a full outpouring,
the hapless moth unto the lamp falls prey.
At first caressed by warmth, like an adoring
novitiate it hovers; then the bay
of opaque shelter forms a glassy prison
from which but frenzied shadows have arisen.
Frail futile wings flail at the unseen walls
till, bit by bit reduced, the self succumbs.
Youth flies as well in answer to life's calls,
is sucked in by the downdrafts. Dream becomes
a time-eroded vestige, meekly falls
beside the flame that dazzles, yet benumbs.
Once molded to conform to circumstance,
the aged can scarce resist the shadow dance.
“Le Soleil, ou la Chute d’Icare”a painting by Merry-Joseph Blondel 25 July 1781 – 12 June 1853He was bestowed with the rank of Knightin the order of the Legion d'Honneurby Charles X of France and offereda professorship at the École nationale supérieure des Beaux-Arts
14.
WINDS DANCE IN CELEBRATION
—by Gail Denham
Winds blew all day, toppled trees
on our sand filter; trees downed a power line
on Burgess Road. This started a small fire;
homes briefly evacuated and engines
screamed from everywhere to save homes.
On our deck, my heart surged in exhilaration
with wind music. I wondered if we’d be next.
Yet even in danger, I wanted to dance with tall
graceful pines that swayed, curtsied and hummed.
Winds don’t slow when the moon first spreads
its light. The supple trees kept up
their exuberant rhythm far into the night.
Finally old man moon stilled the weaving,
bowing leafy ones. I sat quiet, absorbed
their closing rustle songs – early sounds
that proclaimed summer’s arrival.
OnOnOnOnthethethethe
Lighter SideLighter SideLighter SideLighter Side
July2018201820182018
Lynn Fetterolf...16
Ann Gasser...21
Prabha Nayak Prabhu...19
Lucille Morgan Wilson...22
15.
Maureen Applegate...18
Michael Bourgo...20
Gail Denham...23
Marilyn Downing...17
16.
COOKING LESSON
—by Lynn Fetterolf
Take a piece of leather,
An old shoe will do.
Pack it up and ship it
To the British Isles
With these instructions,
Cook a stew.
Then take the mate,
Left foot, by chance
And send it off
To any town in France,
Left Bank or Right,
No matter who,
Same instructions,
Make Ragout.
The right shoe boiled
And boiled and boiled
Again in salted H2O
Makes tough and tougher,
Tasteless dough.
The left, wine bathed
In herbal aromatic brew
Becomes ambrosial.
Enough to make the gods
of gourmandizing smile on you.
‘Tis plain to see. One taste
Will prove beyond a doubt,
If cooking well is your milieu,
Learn your craft at Cordon Bleu!
17.
THE GRAMMARIAN
May she rest in peace —by Marilyn Downing
Whether she was right or not,
she could tell you what was what.
She learned all there was to know
but that was fifty years ago.
Never mind she didn’t compose
any creative or published prose.
She never strayed from grammar rules
to keep them pure within our schools.
Her red pen had plenty of use
in correcting student papers’ abuse.
As department head, she held tight
because she knew what’s wrong from right.
Her way was the ONLY way—like some mad KING.
We listened intently, then did our own thing.
18.
NO VACANCY!
—by Maureen Applegate
Silly little songbird batting at my side view mirror!
Do you think some rival bird is nesting here?
This is not a place for you, for I must roam-
nesting here would make a “mobile” home!
Go find a tall and shaded maple tree
to nest and raise your little prodigy!
Or choose the hanging basket at my kitchen door
just like the house wren did the year before.
To each his own we all are wont to say…
but I must get to work – be on your way!
NARCISSIST
—by Prabha Nayak Prabhu
There once was a woman from Galway
Who loved doing cartwheels in the hallway
When someone asked her why
She replied with a sigh
“To attract attention in a small way.”
19.
20.
LONDON, ENGLAND
—by Michael Bourgo
Along the Thames there was a town
where Roman Legions bedded down;
and later in this lovely city,
King Henry showed Anne little pity!
Let’s not forget that Will Shakespeare
wrote his greatest stuff right here;
and later, bards like Mr. Keats
were crafting new poetic feats.
If you would like a spire and such,
Big Ben will please you very much,
or for some Gothic that’s not shabby,
take a tour around the Abbey!
For a view of royal power,
you will want to see the Tower,
and if at noon you need some grub,
you just seek out a friendly pub,
but should you yearn to view the Queen—
I’m sorry— she is rarely seen!
AMBIVALENCE a Petrarchan Sonnet
—by Ann Gasser
When summer comes with leaves of verdant green
to camouflage tree boughs where robins nest,
and scent of new mown grass fills air with zest,
I find my eyes devouring every scene
to save for times my stash of dreams is lean.
But soon I find I’m bored with grass and trees,
I miss the city’s neon signs, its lights.
I crave excitement, friends, and joviality.
Why did I ask for boring times like these?
I’d like to see the city’s wondrous sights—
(But only with a cop or two or three.)
19.
22.
FAMOUS FACTS:
HANGING GARDENS OF BABYLON
LASTED MORE THAN SIX CENTURIES
—by Lucille Morgan Wilson
When Nebuchadnezzar chose to make a garden for his wife
to please her queenly fancy, (She missed the mountain life.)
he opted for perennials, long-lived and insect-free,
drought-resistant, thrived in heat, sixth century B.C.
His must have been a greener thumb than mine will ever be;
those Hanging Gardens made it into modern history.
Each spring I pick the finest strains from glossy catalogs. . .
I know! Neb's garden's out of reach of deer and puppy dogs!
FARM GAL’S DILEMMA
—by Gail Denham
For years I been a copin’
with pigs and cows and ropin’
But it’s a dog-bone mystery
throughout all modern history
why easy-open boxes will not open.
23.