Perceptionswomen’s poetry for a change issue # 59 |
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| romantic rochelle hope mehr If I could figure out what happiness is I’d hoard it like a miser. I wouldn’t display it like confetti - No one need ever know I’d be so quiet With my stash in tow no one would see the chain the world might think me deaf and blind to all I should esteem I’d give my life up In a flash to revel in a dream. |
in the midst of life (we are in death) margaret boles in the numbness of the unbelievable papers flutter like confetti in the wind prayers are unformed but felt a throbbing pulse to heaven ”Dear God, may they rest in peace! May they that died not have suffered Let there be less, not more dead!” life is reborn to that awesome reality ”In the midst of life we are in death!” a new reality for americans, for whom terrorism has always been somewhere else new york’s skyline horribly altered american psyche never the same again. |
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| refugee helen isaeva It was a very warm August afternoon. She stood perplexed and confused. A slight breeze gave her a little freshness, that helped her feel a little better. She sensed tiredness in every part of her body. Her feet were in pain from the wounds. Weakness was so overwhelming. She felt that her strength would last to move for only several minutes. No more. There was a long, hard way behind. The beautiful scenery of that glorious city made it seem like a dream. She looked around: river Seine, strange buildings, boats with a lot of people there, bridges across the river, a tower to the right. Could it be the famous Eiffel-Tower? She strained her short-sighted eyes. It couldn’t be true. It was a just a beautiful night’s dream. She could wake up any moment and was afraid of it. It looked like that famous tower. But her thoughts were blurry from the exhaustion and hunger. From everywhere came sounds of French. Her mind still refused to believe that she was in Paris. She forced herself to believe that she was in France, in Paris... Nothing worked out. Suddenly she felt so lonely. Sadness and helplessness overwhelmed her. Alone on a new planet. She looked down at the dark water. It was strange, too. She couldn’t grasp the reality. A boat distracted her. It was full of tourists. She thought many of them looked at her. She waved slightly greeting them. And some people began... to wave her! She started to wave at them more actively and finally smiled. More and more people were waving her! Some people even stood up. It was like a child’s voice that cried out “Hi!” and she heard a lot of voices. They greeted her arriving to the new planet! No, she was not lonely! How many people were glad to see her and sent her a welcoming wave! How brightly coloured were the clothes of those people! How warm and friendly were their voices! The tourist’s boat was getting farther and farther but she could still see people waving at her from all their hearts! Suddenly she felt strength inside her. The life returned to her. She felt that she wanted to fly after that boat, to fly above this beautiful city, to fly and to laugh with joy! She was full of life! She felt the smile of the brightly shining sun! She smiled at all the crowds of people around her, at the tender warm sun, at the huge magnificent Tower, at the blue river Seine with the little waves playing in the sun, at those strange but wonderful buildings with the old marvellous architecture, at the proudly curved arches of bridges that stood out in the distance! Everyone and everything greeted her! Everything was strange, new but so welcoming and beautiful! Yes, it was Paris, it was the Eiffel Tower to the right! She was in PARIS! |
mink eamer o’keefe my grandfather thought that a mink jacket would make me a lady. Nearly thirteen I wanted frills and petticoats dad resented the gifts she gave us chicken each month, a house for my mother the nuns complained that my school clothes were nearly threadbare. We have to sell the furniture, my father threatened his love letters had promised always to shun convention. instead of armchairs we sat on car seats. he played the clown grandma ignored him. once a week I stayed at her house. meals were peaceful. she listened to me. her obstinacy had won the man she loved all her life til his heart attack. it came in a box with tissue paper. like a bolero with over-long sleeves in sparkling white my father made jokes. I stuffed the jacket deep in the cupboard. my grandmother was smaller than me. she had half a lung and a large hump. I pushed her up hills in her long fur coat. the jacket got crushed but my sisters used it for dressing up til they got too old. when grandma died we moved to her house. I missed our talks and her sense of fun. yet she never made me into a lady. mink or no mink! |
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| spirit rochelle hope mehr Apoem is an elusive thing you grab one end and try to pull the string and are caught unawares by its beetling sting The heart that beats in its own lair - conscious by day at night, unaware is glory a-wing. |
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