Showing posts with label Janusz Maszkiewicz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Janusz Maszkiewicz. Show all posts

Friday, December 19, 2025

Contents of California Quarterly, Vol. 51, No. 4 (Winter 2025) edited by Bory Thach - Winners of Annual Contest 2025

California Quarterly Vol, 51 No. 4, Winter 2025, edited by Bory Thach
Cover image - "Sunrise" by Janusz Maszkiewicz, oil on canvas

 TABE OF CONTENTS

A Passion of Orange   —  Allegra Silberstein  —  7

 February 21  —   John Accurso  —  

City of Rain    Mary Elliot   9 

Wings    Constance Hanstedt   10 

#636: The Buoyant Thrum of Abbot’s Lagoon    Rob Sienna  —  11 

Distant Shore    Daniel Fitzgerald    12 

winter walk    Livio Farallo  13 

Travelers     Bory Thach   14 

Need for Scarcity   Alessio Zanelli   15 

When You Think You Know Everything About Your Father    Hedy Habra   16 

Come, Become Whole   Madhu Kailas   17 

Tides of Unbeing    David Anson Lee   18 

Talking to God   W. Wayne Lin  —  19 

Willow in the Rain    Richard Luftig    20 

A Mild Winter    Cathy Porter    21 

My Heart Weeps     Donna Thomas   —  22 

Letter To A Sister    David Anson Lee    23 

Beloved    David Rosenheim    24 

Nothing Will Ever Be The Same Again     Jim Tilley  —  25 

Almost Untitled    Connie S. Tettenborn     26 

Weathervane    Carol Traynor Mayer   —  27 

Last Class  —   Nichole Turnbloom  —  28 

Words On Sale Lynn White Words On Sale  —  Lynn White —  29

Liner Notes  —  Gloria Keeley  —  30

Unwritten Words  —  Alice Pero  —  31

The Joke  —  James Miller  —  32

Winter Time in the Valley  — James Piatt  —   33

The Art of Zebra  —   Kathleen Gunton  —  34

The Angel of the Old Exploratorium  —  Mathew Mitchell, 35

Somewhere, On a Bridge —  Mostafa Badaoui, tr. —  36

Somewhere, On a Bridge (in Arabic)   Mostafa Badaoui  —  37

Unlikely Celebrations  —  W.C. Gosnell —  38

Fire  —  Alicia Caldanaro  — 39

Spinning  —  Christine Candland   —  40

Things That Changed Us —  W.C. Gosnell  —  41

On The Bitterroot River  —  Kareem Tayyar  —  42

Avenue of the Giants  —  Kareem Tayyar  —  43

Awake  —  Alice Pero  —   44

Guardian  —  Bory Thach  —  45

 Winners of 38th Annual Contest (2025) —   46

The Judge’s Comments  —  Robert Hammond Dorsett —  46

Where Once Was Day  —  Tom McFadden  (1st Prize)—  48

Inner Voice (A Pantoum)  Suzanne Bruce (2nd Prize) —  49

Stinson Beach  —  Angelika Quirk (3rd Prize) —  50

It Had to Be  —  John W. Crawford  (Honorary Mention)  51

Hexagram – 9   —  Mary Elliott  (Honorary Mention) —  52

Late May Morning —  Maureen Ellen O’Leary (Honorary Mention) —  53

Ave Maria  —  Livingston Rossmoor  (Honorary Mention) —  54

The Enemy Has Encircled Us  —  Randy K. Schwartz  (Honorary Mention)—  56

Ho'oponopono  —  Martin Wagner  (Honorary Mention) —  57

Contributors in Alphabetical Order —   58

CSPS Contest Opportunities  —  60

CSPS Newsbriefs 2024, No. 4 by Maja Trochimczyk  —  62

Publishing Opportunities with CSPS  —  65

2024 CSPS Donors, Patrons, and Membership  —   66

Membership Form   —  68


Sunrise, by Janusz Maszkiewicz,  oil on canvas

EDITOR'S NOTE

I want to thank each of the poets for illuminating us to their unique perspectives on relationships, family, love, and loss. With them, we visit childhood memories and observe the world with all its wonder and change, from autumn to winter. As Allegra Silberstein’s poem, “A Passion of Orange” reminds us that just outside her window, the sunlit view is enough to stay positive and keep joy alive. The winter season can be cold and lonely, but it doesn’t have to be, depending on our perspective. We remember and celebrate loved ones during the upcoming holidays, finding beauty in everything around us. Tomorrow is never promised, so let’s enjoy the present moment for its limitless possibilities. David Anson Lee’s “Tides of Unbeing” reveals to us that “unbeing is as constant as being” and our memories are kept alive in these poems. The art of writing poetry is to reveal certain truths. Every moment is a new discovery, every day can be a reunion of friends and family.  

Words become gifts, letters, and poems that heal us. We need hope in our daily lives. Poetry can give us purpose, direction, and meaning. We use it as a way to tell stories about ourselves, memories that we don’t want to forget because without them, nothing else matters. Like the shared air and passing breaths that collide between “presence and forgetting,” we take a winter walk through a mystical forest where nature’s pristine waters remain sanctuaries for exploration, in search of hidden, secret knowledge that exists inside of us. From a distant shore to Mary Elliot’s “City of Rain,” we hear river spirits whisper truths that “all things” such as stone, flesh, and even memory are here one moment and then gone the next—their “names scrawled” and washed away by the rain. Still, we go on searching for hope after the loss of a father, a sister, or a child because no matter if our mortal bodies get devoured by flood or fire, the soul continues on its journey—another state of being or unbeing. I hope that these “unlikely celebrations” that are written and unwritten become words of wisdom as they have for me.

I hope all readers of the California Quarterly enjoy my choices and appreciate the talents of poets. Happy New Year 2026! 

Bory Thach, San Bernardino, California

California Quarterly, Volume 51, Number 4

ABOUT THE EDITOR

Bory Thach was born in a refugee camp located on the border between Thailand and Cambodia. His family immigrated to the United States when he was four years old. He served in the U.S. Army and deployed to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. He has an MFA from California State University San Bernardino. Fiction and creative nonfiction fall under the art of storytelling, while poetry for him is more of a study of language, an art form in itself. His work appeared or is forthcoming in Pacific Review, Urban Ivy, Arteidolia, Sand Canyon Review and two anthologies  We Are Here: Village Poets Anthology  (2020) and Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdsom (2022). He recently completed a book of poetry dialogues with Cindy Rinne, Letters under Rock (2019) that has been presented as a quasi-theatrical performance in art galleries and museums in Southern California. He joined the Editorial Board in July 2020 and started his duties from volume 47 no. 1 of the California Quarterly.

NEWSBRIEFS

The California Quarterly, Vol. 51, No. 4 features the winners of the 38th Annual Poetry Contest, adjudicated by Robert Hammond Dorsett. All prize-winning poems, including six honorary mentions, are included in this issue of the CQ. Congratulations! We are glad to welcome back Bory Thach as the Editor of this issue, since he has impeccable taste and offers a unique perspective. Mr. Thach was born in a refugee camp located on the border between Thailand and Cambodia. His family immigrated to the United States when he was four years old. He served in the U.S. Army and deployed to Iraq in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. He has an MFA from California State University, San Bernardino. His work appeared in Pacific Review, Urban Ivy, Arteidolia, Sand Canyon Review, and two anthologies, We Are Here: Village Poets Anthology (2020) and Crystal Fire. Poems of Joy and Wisdom (2022). After completing a book of poetry dialogues with Cindy Rinne, Letters under Rock in 2019, he is working on another book with her, this time featuring three authors. Mr. Thach joined the CQ Editorial Board in July 2020.  

The vibrant cover of this issue of the Caifornia Quartery is a reproduction of a painting by Janusz Maszkiewicz. He is a Polish-born American painter, sculptor and furniture-maker, and a preeminent artist in the field of marquetry veneer inlays. He is also a gallery owner and member of the Polish Art Group KRAK, frequently hosting art exhibitions at his gallery. His paintings were featured in CSPS Poetry Letter No. 2 of 2023.  

The Poetry Letter. The third issue of the CSPS Poetry Letter of 2025 presented reflections on free speech and elegiesfor victims of political assassinations, starting with the starting with the classic poem by Walt Whitman about President Abraham Lincoln (“When Lilacs Last In The Dooryard Bloom’d”), as well as a sonnet by Konrad Tademar Wilk dedicated to the memory of Charlie Kirk. John Accurso contributed two poems about the world of peace without violence, and Michael Escoubas honored the fallen soldiers, brothers in arms. Our featured poet was Catharine Savage Brosman, whose fixed-form verse draws from the riches of Western tradition. To match the poems, the issue was illustrated with visionary landscape and nature paintings by Thomas Moran, Albert Bierstadt, Mary Vaux Walcott, and John La Farge; all are preserved at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. 

Pushcart Prize Nominations. The following six poems were nominated to the Annual Pushcart Prizes for best poems published by small presses in 2025. From CQ 51:1 (guest-edited by r.g. cantalupo), “The Girl Who Talked to the Moon” by Christine Candland and “The Nature of Opened Doors” by John Schneider. From CQ 51:2 (ed. Nicholas Skaldetvind), “In Quarantine I, II, III” by Christna Pugh and “A Wet Velocity” by Jade Lascelles. From CQ 51:3 (ed. Maja Trochimczyk), “When the Prophet Comes Home” by Livingston Rossmoor and “Stream of Consciousness” by Carolyn Jabs. Congratulations! Poems published in CQ 51:4, edited by Bory Thach will be nominated in the next cycle, in November 2025, since the issue was not ready by the nominations’ deadline.

 A Memoria Donation. The CSPS is a small poetry organization, relying on its reserves for budget shortfalls. Therefore, we are very grateful for the anonymous donor that decided to support our Society with a sizable Memoria Donation honoring our former member, talented California poet Deborah P Kolodji. The funds will be used to reprint some copies of the CQ 48:4 that Debbie edited and for other future projects, currently being considered.

 CSPS Members Activities. Being busy is good, it means we are needed here, on our blue-green planet, and that what we have to offer to the world is actually appreciated… So our Board members have been extremely busy in recent months. Nicholas Skaldetvind moved to the Ph.D. Program in American Literature at the University of New Mexico, Albuquerque and recently won the 2025 Award for Best Graduate Student Paper at the Conference of American Literature Association for his paper on “The Spontaneous Poetics in Kerouac’s Letters. Congratulations! His first chapbook is in preparation, as well. Konrad Tademar Wilk is completing the final corrections of his books of 168 sonnets written in 2013 and set aside that is finally seeing the light of day in 2025. Six sonnets from the Trafficking in Time received Pushcart Prize Nomination for this year. Well done!

 After a series of awards and publications, Ambika Talwar went on a three-month silent retreat to replenish her spirit. Maja Trochimczyk ended her tenure of 9.5 years as President of Helena Modjeska Club by becoming its Distinguished Member. She wrote a chapter on poetic portraits of a pianist & statesman, Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860-1941) for a book and collected these fascinating poems into an anthology, Paderewski Essays & Poems (2025).

 The CSPS and the NFSPS. On 18 October 2025, during a duly called meeting of the Board of the California State Poetry Society, at which a quorum was present, the Board unanimously approved the Resolution (copied below) and amendments to the CSPS Constitution and Bylaws, to sever its relationship with the National Federation of State Poetry Societies and rescind the CSPS membership in the Federation. The next step was the email vote by the members of the Society to approve both the Resolution and the amended Constitution and Bylaws. The email (and mail to two members without email) of 27 October 2025 featured three attachments: a) the CSPS Board Resolution, b) the redlined text of the CSPS Constitution and Bylaws, c) the amended, final text of th   2025 CSPS Constitution and By-laws for approval. Of active members who paid dues for 2025, 52.6% responded within one month. The votes were counted on 30 November 2025. The proposed resolution and amendments were approved by a majority vote: YES – 76.7%, NO – 6.7%, ABSTAIN – 16.6%. The CSPS membership in NFSPS is therefore ending on 31 Dec. 2025. We are looking forward to our independent future!

Maja Trochimczyk, CSPS President. 

Pluit by Janszu Masziewicz, 2019, mixed media.

WINNERS OF THE 38th ANNUA POETRY CONTEST

California State Poetry Society is pleased to announce the winners of its 38th Annual Poetry Contest selected by Judge Robert Hammond Dorsett of Berkeley, California.  We are grateful to all poets who submitted a total of 178 poems this year.

CONTEST PRIZES

First Prize: “Where Once Was Day” by Tom McFadden

Second Prize: “Inner Voice (A Pantoum)” by Suzanne Bruce  

Third Prize: “Stinson Beach” by Angelika Quirk

HONORARY MENTIONS (IN ALPHABETIC ORDER) 

“It Had to Be” by John W. Crawford  

“Hexagram – 9” by Mary Elliott 

“Late May Morning” by Maureen Ellen O'Leary 

“Ave Maria” by Livingston Rossmoor 

“The Enemy Has Encircled Us” by Randy K. Schwartz

“Ho'oponopono” by Martin Wagner

THE JUDGE’S COMMENTS

I would like to thank Maja Trochimczyk and the board of the California State Poetry Society for giving me the honor of being the judge for their annual poetry contest. I would also  like to thank all those who sent their poems. I was pleased by the quality of the submissions; they were genuine and heart-felt. 

       I have chosen ‘Where Once was Day’ for the number one slot; ‘Inner Voice’ for the second, and, for the third, ‘Stinson Beach’. 

       ‘Where Once Was Day’, the first-place winner, has a simple and familiar meaning: the passage of night into day, symbolizing the dark night of the soul, or depression, seeking redemption or relief. It is a prayer and a poem of praise that keeps its lyric tone throughout. It’s hard to do and rarely found.

        For the second place, I chose ‘Inner Voice’, a pantoum. In the repetitions necessitated by that form, the poem maintains its progress, starting with surprise at the rising voice and ending with gratitude. The language is lyrical and clean, that is to say there are no unnecessary words. 

       For the third place, I chose ‘Stinson Beach’, an elegy in which the recurring waves of grief and fear are represented by water waves falling on a beach. The waves are sirens, falsely beautiful, then become the lapping voices of doctors repeating a serious diagnosis. Fear and grief keep flowing over the speaker in waves. This is true to life; I found this poem very affecting. 

The poems for the Runners Up section are given here in alphabetical order: 

  • ‘Ave Maria’, for telling us that the well-known aria must have darker depths, and doing so in good verse; 
  • ‘Hexagram 9’ for its sustained lyricism; 
  • ‘Ho’oponopono’, for the use of an ancient Hawaiian practice of forgiveness to tell us about the speaker’s own son; 
  • ‘It Had To Be’ for its powerful last stanza; 
  • ‘Late May Morning’, also for its lyric beauty, and
  • ‘The Enemy Encircled Us’, in which the enemy, remaining nameless, evokes more from the reader. 

       Once again, I thank all who have participated. I hope you will continue working on your poetry. And I wish everyone success.

Robert Hammond Dorsett, 2025 CSPS Contest Judge

ABOUIT ROBERT HAMMOND DORSETT 

Robert Hammond Dorsett, born in Jersey City NJ, graduated from Rutgers University with a major in biology and a minor in mathematics. Subsequently, he received an MD degree from the University of NY and had a residency in psychiatry, and then pediatrics, at Cornell. He was a naval officer during the Viet Nam War and studied Chinese at the Chinese University in Hong Kong during the Mao years. His first book, translated along with David Pollard from the memoirs of the dissident Gao Ertai, was published in 2009 by HarperCollins (In Search of My Homeland: A Memoir of a Chinese Labor Camp). He second book, a translation from the poems of Wen Yiduo, was published by BrightCity Books in 2014 (Stagnant Water & Other Poems), and the third book of translation was a selection of Ai Qing, published by Penquin/Random House and throughout Europe as a Viking Classic. He has a fellowship in poetry from MacDowell and an MFA from NYU. More information https://www.roberthammonddorsett.com/.  

Tarantella by Janusz Masziewicz, oil on canvas, 2019

WHERE ONCE WAS DAY


As I sense presence where once was day,

I pray the night be still and undisturbed.

I pray into shadows

that they not descend into profundity

too deep for return to light.

I pray into the lurking ahead,

where I cannot see,

that there be nothing which waits for me.

I pray that the unhappened

may dismiss its urge to form

and deem abeyance satisfactory

in this shapelessness

which precedes the new day born.

I bless each breeze while blowing

kindness across the fears

and thank the air for alarm-free silence

while the breezes wait.

I thank all past adversity

for turning to courage inside me

from lessons of life's road,

ill turned.

And I praise the stars for subtle shine

as I sense time's long decline.

I pray the night be still and undisturbed;

and, if it agrees, I, too, will remain like that,

undisturbed through the fall of hours,

accompanying them in their deepening way,

if only I may know the dawn will really come

to render exorable

this residence

in the black below the day.

Tom McFadden 

First Prize, 38th Annual CSPS Poetry Contest, 2025


Yellow Fever by Janusz Maszkiewicz, 2019, Oil on canvas.

INNER VOICE

(A Pantoum) 


You appear out of nowhere

a voice that rises like fire

I want to skate on silver linings

you remind me there might be thin ice.


A voice that rises with no fear

encourages me to jump and spin

so what if there is thin ice,

you help me through those edgy times.


Try a new jump, higher and twirl

release the strings and fly!

I trust your help in scary times

inextricably we are melded.


Release the strings and let it out!

Sometimes it is ok to scream, be loud

inextricably we are melded

balance survives the teetering.


Feels good to sometimes scream, be loud

though I always want to skate on silver linings,

balance celebrates previous teetering

thank goodness you reliably appear.

Suzanne Bruce, Fairfield, California

Second Prize, 38th Annual CSPS Poetry Contest, 2025

Windy Valley Muskox, 2019, Mix media, 60 x 48 inches

STINSON BEACH


We watch the sea at Stinson Beach

swirling, picking up steam. It pushes

against sea gulls' screech stalking

my dreams. Waves like sirens

of the sea crashing in, recklessly

encroaching on coastal land

and the sanity of life.

When the wet sand shifts

under our feet, we worry

about sliding into an abyss,

about thousands of pebbles

washing ashore like cells

multiplying, then drowning

in the windward turmoil

with lapping voices

repeating the prognosis.


Yet the word cancer unspoken,

devoured by the next wave,

so we can celebrate

the fresh breeze on this day,

his birthday watching the tide

roll in, roll out licking the shoreline

clean of seaweed and the debris

of foggy afterthoughts.

Blowing it all away

in this wind, on this day

of somber reckoning.

Angelika Quirk, San Rafael, California

Third Prize, 38th Annual CSPS Poetry Contest, 2025

Janusz Maszkiewicz in his studio, painting.

COVER IMAGE - Janusz Maszkiewicz

Monument conservator and restorer, painter, the owner of Vienna Woods Gallery. Born in Lisewo (1946). His art education began with the Nicolaus Copernicus University in Toruń, Poland (1973). His studied Chemistry and Fine Art Restoration. He served as assistant professor in painting restoration and Medieval Sculpture restoration. At that time, he was attending drawing and painting classes instructed by Henryk Wadowski. In the late 1970s, he was active in the local artistic community in Toruń. In the 1980s, he lived in London, England. He had solo shows near Portobello Road at the Blenheim Crescent Gallery as well as at Hyde Park Gallery in Bayswater. In 1989, he emigrated to New York City. He was represented by Stendahl Gallery on Broadway in Soho. He was a part of group shows during that period of four years in New York. The artist moved farther west to Santa Monica, CA (1993). Here, he opened his own business, which included building and designing fine furniture as well as fine art/antique restoration.

"My works evoke direct feelings of cold or heat. The aesthetically arranged colors complement each other, providing the viewer with a vast array of experiences"- Janusz Maszkiewicz




 

Thursday, June 15, 2023

Poetry Letter No. 2, 2023 - Part I. Poems - Monthly Contest Winners for 2022

Janusz Maszkiewicz, oil on canvas, 150 cm X 150 cm

The Poetry Letter No. 2 of 2023 (Online ISSN 2836-9394; Print ISSN 2836-9408) included the Monthly Contests' Winners for 2022 and four book reviews. In the first part, we reproduce the poems.

The winners of the 2022 Monthly Contests, adjudicated by Alice Pero, are:

• January (Nature, Landscape):

1st Prize: Pamela Stone Singer, “Forest Air”

2nd Prize: Jane Stuart, “On the North Side”

3rd Prize: Gwen Monohan, “Focal Points”

• February (Love):

1st Prize: Jerry Smith “Lovers”

2nd Prize: Jane Stuart “Crossing the Moon”

• March (Open, Free Subject):

1st Prize: Jeff Graham, “A Certain Day's Every,”

• April (Mythology, Dreams, Other Universes):

1st Prize: Debra Darby, “Awaken.”

• May (Personifications, Characters, Portraits):

1st Prize: Carol L. Hatfield “Cloud on the Ground”

2nd Prize: Joan Gerstein “White on White”

• June (The Supernatural):

1st Prize: Pamela Stone Singer,“Buffaloes Escape”

• July (Childhood, Memoirs):

1st Prize: Anna J. Jasinska “My chicken egg apron”

2nd Prize: Lynn Axelrod “Fenestra”

• August (Places, Poems of Location):

1st Prize: Sean McGrath “10/21: At Sea, After Light”

2nd Prize: Colorado Smith “Tigers of the Tsangpo”

3rd Prize: Teresa Bullock “Born Again”

• September (Colors, Music, Dance):

1st Prize: Jane Stuart, “Watching Time Go By”

• October (Humor, Satire): No award

• November (Family, Friendship, Relationships): 

1st Prize: Richard L. Matta, “Shucking Shells”

• December (Best of Your Best, awarded or published poems):

1st Prize: David Anderson “Where Plovers Complain”

2nd Prize: Carla Schick “She Painted”

The Monthly Contests' Chair and Judge, ALICE PERO, joined the CSPS Board as a Director at Large in May 2019 and became the Chair of Monthly Poetry Contests in January 2020. She was elected the 10th Poet Laureate of Sunland-Tujunga in April 2020. She has published poetry in many magazines and anthologies, including Nimrod, National Poetry Review, River Oak Review, Poet Lore, The Alembic, North Dakota Quarterly, The Distillery, Fox Cry Review, The Griffin, and G.W. Review, and others. Her book of poetry, Thawed Stars, was praised by Kenneth Koch as having “clarity and surprises.” She also published a chapbook Sunland Park Poems, written as a dialogue with Elsa Frausto. Pero teaches poetry and is a member of California Poets in the  Schools, a nonprofit dedicated to empowering students to express their uniqueness through writing, performing and publishing their own poetry. She is also the founder of Moonday, a reading series that has been on-going in the Los Angeles area for upwards of sixteen years. Ms Pero has created dialogue poems with more than twenty poets. She also created the performing group, Windsong Players Chamber Ensemble and performs with them as a flutist.


Janusz Maszkiewicz, "Super Blume" 

JANUARY 2022


FOREST AIR

You cannot see 

but know yourself as light.


Wings hoist you to the top of a tree.

You see meadows’ waves 

and luminous wildflowers.


Touch tongues of birds.

Swallow night air.

Cleanse your lungs.


Let forests’ darkness wrap your body.

Open your mouth to stars.             


Geese fly into autumn.

Their flight brings lavender sky

and iridescent feathers.


Soon branches will bend with winter.

Pine and wind-scented air     

remind the forest is near.


Pamela Stone Singer, First Prize, January 2022


ON THE NORTH SIDE


Walking through darkness

-another sleepless night—

my foot hits a star


But the wind blows shadows

across time…

and in the distance,

the moon sighs

and earth,

a painting,

comes to life—

shells in a bowl

flowers,

still-life fruit

made of wax


The sky quivers.

I reach for

my bow and arrow—

nothing is there,

just the owl

and moss that grows

on the side of trees

 

Jane Stuart, Second Prize, January 2022  

              

 FOCAL POINTS

Vision strays to flowers
color-stripping newer fields.
Focusing our winter minds
on this warm rebirth
with spring-like zeal.

In weeks bright hues conceal
and blot now wider bands
of the thickest green.
Till we whimsically retrieve
many lodestar strands.   

Holding in both hands
pale asters or daisy arrays.
Radiating spokes near
where petals appear torn
from thunderstorms.

Leaving small gold centers,
found round as magnet eyes.
Attracted towards one’s
soul-searching for what
possibly may bloom beyond.

Gwen Monohan, Third Prize, January 2022 

     
Janusz Maszkiewicz, "Conditionibus"


FEBRUARY 2022


LOVERS 

She hikes to the waterfall twice a year
once when new-greens leaf the alders
and again as redbuds flame amber-pink

       At dusk she lights a candle in the rock
        for wind from the falls to flicker
             She splits dark pools, gliding

Somehow together again, they
float the lips of the cataract
tumble down torrents

       Her breasts engorge at the flood of him
                             She suspends breath
                       shallow murmurs

Lying on black basalt beneath stare of stars
she rubs her skin with sage and slumbers
in the sand to rhythms of the roar

At dawn she drops the dying candle
  into the dark, murky depths of that
              River-of-Might-Have-Been


Jerry Smith, First Prize, February 2022

 

CROSSING THE MOON

We met on a ship crossing the moon,
a cruise of moments
made of steel and glass
through deep blue seas
and mountains hard as sand
that has been packed
by hands in icy gloves—

Oh love is wild!
and this was our romance,
a foxtrot played and danced to
by the stars.
We moved above earth
in chiffon veils
and vests of champagne corks—

Our glitter crowns
shined in the shadows
of a thousand tears
because this was pretend
and love oved on,
leaving us a world of indigo
and fading light.

We don’t know why
but the ship docked at dawn
and we became fireflies
in sudden flight
on tomorrow’s wings
that bloomed tonight.

Jane Stuart, Second Prize, February 2022


Janusz Maszkiewicz, "Trans Fretum"



MARCH 2023

A CERTAIN DAY’S EVERY

Neither late May rain, nor memory of,
nor memory of such scent,
but scent’s cataloguing of recollections.
Rain as timely as late May.
Late May as sudden as rain at such a time.
*
Everything has led me yet ill-prepared me for this:
the sound of water taking in itself,
hybridized with the sound of the taking in of itself
     of water,
which lands into a backlash of rising,
to mix in with its mixed within.
*
Rain round and about rain,
falling as fallen-upon mid-fall.
Drops just amply to hear,
scantly such so that impacts dry
before spaces between connect.
Not too much, yet just enough
to linger with and within
without the want for more,
for more than enough.
*
Light rain landing on light rain landing.
Rain between rain’s between,
forming course mid-fall, fall-formed,
following through its follow-through
    on-to-wards
leaf to leaf to loam to the eversilent
symphony of the seed, the sweetest
brutalities of the seed’s destitchery.
*
Rain and the scent of rain and the taste of rain
slides round and down partly parted lips
to fall to, land amid, and settle with(in)
what buried’s soil of making and taking,
tilling the grave’s cradle of what was—
   existing as is,             becoming what come.
*
Of the hundred things I wanted to say,
nothing came out of my mouth.
After that came after that, and after that
came the day cradled in soft though ceaseless
    rain.
When the conceptual of what was unutterable
became such silence said,
the cosmos collapsed and reconfigured 
into the gloss of a miscellany of intentions.                                                                 

Jeff Graham, First Prize, March 2022


APRIL 2023 

AWAKEN

Find the strings

Ride the gleaming scales of the fish

blazing melon, gold, scarlet

nocturnal sapphire

before vanishing into the ocean at dawn.


Mooring the dreamless

dream remembering in tow

listen to the tides of morning.

The fishtail reveals its secret.

Awake to awaken

In waves of shimmering water,

The mystical call of the whale 

beckons.

Awaken

Find the strings.

                                      Debra Darby, First Prize, April 2022  


Janusz Maszkiewicz,  Untitled.


MAY 2023

              CLOUD ON THE GROUND   

                          (for my mule, Andromeda)

Never one to be
lost
in fog - 
she calls
it
to her. 
She shines
white    as any opal -
     with a quiet
     fire
     in the belly.
The fog holds
the four-beat
    drum
of her pearl
hooves
and keeps it all
to itself.
The sky recognizes
her
molds and
forms
soft cotton
sculptures 
in her honor.

Cloud
on the ground
she is - 
with one flick
of her tail
the rain
obeys
and we ride
the afternoon
on a veil
of grey….
iridescent 
at the core….

Carol L Hatfield, First Prize, May 2022


WHITE ON WHITE
 
I am asphyxiated color
The empty page
Hair as you age
Chalk popcorn mayonnaise
Seashells the foam on waves
Teeth nails Beluga whales
Dental floss and kidney stones
Dover's Cliffs Rover's bones
Baby powder a Princess phone
Icicles Polar bears and clouds
Baking soda cauliflower shrouds
Marshmallow rice baked potatoes
The Pope's robes wherever it snows
Jasmine egrets angel-food cake
A dove a swan a whooping crane
Bras and briefs pills cocaine
Coconut cottage cheese for brains
Piano keys dandelion seeds mozzarella 
Girls like Snow White or Cinderella
Noise knights and virginal brides
Collars crimes white-knuckled rides
Elephant sales and Siamese cats
Jack Sprat's wife's fat lab rats
White House peace dove surrender flag 
Honking geese and their oval eggs
Wedding dresses White wine dregs
Calla Lily whipping cream ivory lace 
White bread white trash Caucasian race 
Pure as driven snow Good Humor man 
Robes worn by the Ku Klux Klan
Adorn me at an Asian funeral
And I will deliver death's benediction


Joan Gerstein, Second Prize, May 2022


Janusz Maszkiewicz, "Sunrise"



JUNE 2022

BUFFALOES ESCAPE


Wrapped in cloaks of snow, buffaloes

live in Moon’s lightning-green eye.


Embedded in their bones

palimpsests reveal eternal life.


Etched with star drawings, stick figures and shapes

from outer space, their horns speak stories of worlds 


where they travel calm plains.

Water songs and ceremonies, their messages.


Wander hills and valleys: cone flowers, golden rod, milkweed.

Speak the holiness of earth.



Pamela Stone Singer, First Prize, June 2022


JULY 2022


 MY CHICKEN EGG APRON 


My grandmother said I must sleep two times—once under the pear tree,

once under the attic skylight, before can come to the kitchen and put on my eight-

pocketed chicken egg apron and run among purple heads of burdock

to the nests hidden in the thicket near the chicken coop. Then, I comb the bush 

till I hold in my hands and shine with straw an alabaster egg. I return to the beginning

and must wait. Again, I am a day and two sleeps away, trusting

that next morning, if I follow the plan, I will find my treasures. Meanwhile,

I collect odd symmetries, study luster and trace veins growing through the forms.


I fill the hours putting opal coils of snail and dry poppy heads spilling black seeds 

in my pockets, until I am certain I slept two times. I have dreamt in the storm

of pear blossom. I have dreamt under the starry attic window

of finding the ideal oval forms. But if I cannot get any, I pick pieces 

of tree bark and collect pinecones, and stash them in my apron pockets

as if they were what I wanted. They are not, yet they gleam warmly

of still-sticky droplets of resin, I cannot resist. My fingertips curiously

dip into the liquid amber— it is unexpectedly warm and bitter-sweet.    


Anna J. Jasinska, First Prize, July 2022


FENESTRA


Papermill Creek flows in wide

–our own Missouri. Midmorning 

jacks snap at mayflies.  

Sunlight transluces 

through their wing fenestra,

splays in dapples of gleam. 

Air almost visible like gnat-buzz. 

Pickle weed greens out wide

to greet them all like a mother 

holds a family together.


You break the mesmer, 

elusive beneath a splash. 

Nothing solid, not mud-swirl 

curled against the current,

not the embankment crumbled

one dirt speck at a time 

–granular drownings, 

nearly unnoticed. 


Then LOL up you pop, 

whip water from your hair,

bobbing cork, glistening grin.


If only Father were as buoyant 

when he dived in the Sound,

––not wading, not scanning.


Quick bottom spun him silent 

on the ghostline 

of his infant fontanelles. 


Gleaned from the sea, shut 

until his lungs heaved 

a bolus of saltgrass onto sand.

Beach heat unwaxed pores, 

plasma bathed his heart, and

our breath mingled in the light,

resumed its daily circuit 

in the dark of our bodies.  


Lynn Axelrod, Second Prize, July 2022


Janusz Maszkiewicz, Untitled


           AUGUST 2022                        


10/21: AT SEA, AFTER LIGHT

The marine wall poured onto the coastline,
  this evening’s moving mountains—
went the sailboats, went the doves,
  lines of sunset streaked through
like tunnel paths for the seagone.
  More boats, droves of pelican and cranes
fleeting from sight, making their winged exit;
  the air was wet with longing.

I shivered on the shore
  underdressed, ill-equipped to harness
all the heaven before me,
  so much of it leaking out,
coming in at once.

I can’t have a cold room when it knocks—
  I should have fire in my lungs
and only a little fear in my heart,
I should learn to warm myself
  amid the wavery sea,
to be still in the absence of light.

Sean McGrath, First Prize, August 2022



BORN AGAIN

Flying low, skimming insect-like
above the water
I surrender myself mute
to the sea plane's droning.
I am fit tight into its small body,
trapped, strapped in, no time for fear,
no place else to go
except maybe Africa
where Beryl Markham floated like this
above giraffe-groomed acacia,
savannas worn by wildebeest,
and dusty trails shuffled by
lines of leathery elephants.

Looking down, I think I see
through ocean's ancient skin
a silvery pod of porpoise,
great blotches of whale
lumbering south the way they do
for warmth and food and sex.

From here nothing is hidden from me.
From this gull’s view, I see it all.
Smoke clutches a cabin in a wood
all shades of green;
cotton ball sheep hurry
toward their heaps of hay.

But too soon,
I am delivered gently
onto ocean's face. I am born again
on her wrinkled skin.


Theresa Bullock, Second Prize, August 2022

 



TIGERS OF THE TSANGPO
 
Three Asian rivers. the Sutleg, the Karnali, and the Indus flow 
in the three cardinal directions from the sacred Mt. Kailash. 
The Yarlung-Tsangpo flows a thousand miles east 
across the Tibetan plateau, then splits the Himalayan massif
before becoming the Brahmaputra in India. 
Within the Tsangpo's great bend south 
lived two tribes of Buddhist hunters.
The Bön people were prey
here before them.

 
The few trails in this Great Bend are trod by hunters 
or Buddhist pilgrims who pray at remote shrines
as river rhythms reverb among yak-butter lamps, 
cranium-cups, tsampa barley cones in stone bowls 
and prayer flags in caves where no breeze blows.
 
The celadon glacial melt of the Tsangpo is kayaked
only during midwinter low-water, when kayaks  painfully 
are portaged around waterfalls and Class VI maelstroms.
The Tsangpo compresses to ninety feet in its narrowest gorge.
Five hundred feet above, its sheer wall displays 
highwater marks scoured out in June, 2000.
 
Clarified air and tumultuous rapids drown sound: 
freight trains of water, standing-wave haystacks, 
bus-sized boulder mazes, ten-foot rooster tails.
River-wide ledges with torrential tow-backs 
can spin a body for hours.
 
Underwater tongues and flumes 
squeeze light into bubble vortices;
whitewater cyclones swirl eddy lines. 
                                                                                                                                  •
Below blood-red rhododendrons,
a snow leopard sprints across a vertical avalanche chute 
forcing a golden takin to bolt straight down to the Tsangpo, 
snapping pine downfall like twigs.
A ten-foot tiger lunges onto the back of the eight-hundred-pound 
takin and severs its spinal cord with three-inch canines.
The cheated leopard retreats, slinking back up the chute.
 
The Tsangpo chisels down through the collision of continents, 
becoming the Brahmaputra, then into Mother Ganges,
and finally the Bay of Bengal.


Colorado Smith, Second Prize, August 2022


Janusz Maszkiewicz, "Nocturne"

SEPTEMBER 2022


ON WATCHING TIME GO BY


The dance!

The dance you say

is everything time gives

earth-people waiting to be born

again


Stage left

stage right-tutto

va'ben' -you say-red shoes 

cross the stage in leaps and endless 

bounds


Night brings

another flight

through triangles and squares. 

The passing moment turns itself 

again


Planets

vanish, dancers

follow-shadows fall in

empty holes. All motion is

mystery


Lines of

sudden white light ...

your feet find yesterday

and then fall into tomorrow.

No change


Jane Stuart, First Prize, September 2022    

            

OCTOBER 2022 - NO PRIZES


NOVEMBER 2022

 

SHUCKING SHELLS


We met and moved like a breeze from bar to beach, the moon witness 

to her unveiled dress. Her pearlescent dress button lost in abandoned restraint,

hidden in the sand. Symbols simplify explanation. But in time, more missing buttons, 

my unbridled imagination, and the possession monster roiled and churned inside me. 


raspberry moon

a dark cloud 

on a patch of sweetness


On my face and lips, moonlit bubbles break like little hearts compressing and filling 

with the tide. Sand string undertows pull at my feet, anniversary tears in my eyes. 

My son’s small voice calls me back to the beach, says “mom pulled her favorite 

dress out of storage and asked me to ask you can we find some oysters, 

a missing button?” We start looking. 


sharp beach glass

the slow path

to forgiveness                                                                           


 Richard L. Matta, First Prize, November 2022


Janusz Maszkiewicz, Untitled


DECEMBER 2022


WHERE PLOVERS COMPLAIN

When my body rouses at the slightest
and I fear you will not return and our lives
shrivel from the world’s trumpeting,
I go in silence, to rest where your spirit speaks,
where plovers’ complaints precede the dawn,
in a cove where waves continually crest and crush.
I come into the resonance of music
not mediated by voice or strings.

David Anderson, First Prize, December 2022

Medusa’s Kitchen, http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com, 16 Feb 2009
Second place, August 2009 contest, California Federation of Chaparral Poets
What Was Within: Poems, Christian Faith Publishing Co.



SHE PAINTED…

She painted portraits,
walking through dark alleys.
And as she watched
the moon vanish
behind the rooftops,
she caught glimpses
of her eyes
peering through dark windows
waiting for her hands
to take the brush
and cast a shadow on the wall.

Looking into mirrors
she painted sunsets.
And as she watched
her face vanish
with the fading light,
she caught glimpses
of the moon
peering through her windows,
waiting for her hands
to take the brush
and cat the final stroke.

Carla Schick, Second Prize, December 2022

Published in Primavera, Vol 4, 1978    

 


Paintings by Janusz Maszkiewicz, Used by Permission.

Janusz Maszkiewicz is a Polish-born American painter, sculptor and furniture-maker, and a preeminent artist in the field of marquetry veneer inlays. He is also a gallery owner and member of the Polish Art Group KRAK, frequently hosting art exhibitions at his gallery.

______________________


The Poetry Letter ((Online ISSN 2836-9394; Print ISSN 2836-9408) is a quarterly electronic publication, issued by the California State Poetry Society. Edited by Maja Trochimczyk since 2020 by Margaret Saine earlier.  The Poetry Letter is emailed and posted on the CSPS website, CaliforniaStatePoetrySociety.org. Sections of the Poetry Letter are also posted separately on the CSPS Blog, CaliforniaStatePoetrySociety.com – all poems in one post, all book reviews in another.