Author: Evy

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Sherwood Community Friends Church
950 S. Sherwood Blvd.
Sherwood, OR 97140
Fall: Sunday, November 20, 2005, 2-4 PM.

PoetSpeak arranges readings of poets
with enjoyable poetry
for audiences that might not access poetry
on a regular basis.
PoetSpeak provides illustrated poetry columns
for magazines and newspapers
and other publications which may
not publish poetry on a regular basis.
PoetSpeak believes
our culture is enriched by poetic insight
in poetry and song.
PoetSpeak believes
that each of us has a poem or song,
at one time or another,
that needs sharing.
PoetSpeak believes
that valuable poems are created
by children as well as adults,
men as well as women.
PoetSpeak believes
that there is great value
in reading and listening to poetry
produced by poets of widely different cultural
and experiential backgrounds.

Kurt Kristensen
22520 SW Fairoaks Ct
Sherwood, OR, 97140
503-625-2340
editor@poetspeak.com
www.poetspeak.com
PoetSpeak ® is a trademark registered to Kurt Kristensen

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Advisory Board

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Publisher
PoetSpeak
22520 SW Fairoaks Ct.
Sherwood, OR 97140
503-625-2340

PoetSpeak Anthology
Content and poems published by PoetSpeak may not be reproduced by any means, except for brief quotations used in reviews, without written permission of publisher. Exception is granted for one (1) class set of one (1)poem for a teacher, with written acknowledgement. Attendance for performances is $5 and includes Anthology. Single copies available within USA for $5, postage included. Copyright reverts to individual authors upon publication. PoetSpeak reserves the right to publish up to 1,000 copies, and the right, with prior
Notification to individual authors, to publish poems as part of future PoetSpeak anthologies and columns.
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PoetSpeak Reading Series

Index

Page	Poet	Poem	Page	Poet	Poem
5	Eric Walter*	A Child Of This River	24	Eric Walter*	Night Swimming
6	Shawnee Daniel	Aging	25	Michael Barker	Angel Song
7	Karen Suriano	Cut Flowers	26	Sequoia Suriano	Plum Tree
8	Jeffrey Kee	Run River Run	27	Marcia Myers	Autumn Gastronomy
9	Sequoia Suriano	Earth	x	Scott Brown	Music & Intermission
10	Michael Barker	I am the Mountain	28	Barry Kennedy	Writer’s Solution
x	Scott Brown	Music Interlude	29	Marcia Myers	Best Wishes
11	Eric Walter*	The Next Good Rain	30	Dennis Bleything	Tilt
12	Shawnee Daniel	The Other Side	31	Eric Walter*	Catching Trout In The Sun
13	Jeffrey Kee	Good Culverts	32	Kurt Kristensen	Boulders
14	Susan Brown	Noon High	x	Scott Brown	Music Interlude
15	Evy Kristensen	Cat Fish Cove	33	Shawnee Daniel	Friends
x	Scott Brown	Music Interlude	34	Barry Kennedy	Rude People
16	Eric Walter*	Chaco	35	Evy Kristensen	Pram or Stroller
17	Karen Suriano	The Burn	36	Eric Walter	Placed As You Are
18	Dennis Bleything	Motion	37	Herb Stokes	Left Leaning Tree
19	Susan Brown	Dawn received	38	Eric Walter*	In a Pool Of Winds
x	Scott Brown	Music Interlude	39	Jeffrey Kee	The Kenai
20	Herb Stokes	The Lonesome Rain	40	Elena Suriano	Light
21	Elena Suriano	Echo	41	Kurt Kristensen	Fire Peace
22	Eric Walter	Edges Without Trees	42	Eric Walter*	Neakanie Morning
23	Karen Suriano	Thoughts of Me	x	Scott Brown	Music Interlude
X	Index		43	Michael Barker	The Dreamer
49	Editor’s Notes	Poetry is Needed	44	Dennis Bleything	White Moth
50	Board of advisors	How you can serve	45	Karen Suriano	Somnolent
51	Readers Notes	Your notes	46	Marcia Myers	A Persona Psalm
			47	Herb Stokes	Horizontal Man
			48	Eric Walter	A Prayer

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

A Child of This River

Pure
the water runs glistening over
fire painted cobbles as
the dark shadows of grayling
flash through iridescent pools,
a seagull skims the riffles, ghostly
white wings churning the salt-tinged air,
the bird seems strange here but I
of course, am the stranger
I dream to be a child of this river
running with the wolverine
chasing the secrets of snowmelt and spring
down curling willow-choked canyons
and valleys yawning under rain
across boggy coastal plains
rumbling with musk-ox thunder
I long to greet the white sea,
dance at its vagrant edge
and watch the forever sun fade
to the never sun,
whispering the brittle poetry of ice
I turn my eyes to the light haunted land,
feeling nothing but the absence of myself
in the pall of its daunting physics
I am ready to think like a river
but I stand with my feet in the earth

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Shawnee Daniel

Aging

Each day I grow a little older.
Each day I grow a little taller and more mature.
Each day a kid awaits eagerly for that double-digit-number-ten.
All you under thirteen wait for the day you can baby-sit,
Or, the day you can finally say "I'm a teenager."
All teens go trough life wishing they had their license.
From eighteen to twenty-five are the college days,
Or, for some, the parties.
Then they can get married, settle down, and start their lives.
And when they are over thirty …
They wish they had wished to stay young.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Karen Suriano

Cut Flowers

an unreality of colors mixed,
layered greens then blues.
a finish of purple hues
on the surface, then seasoned
by wind and sun and time -
the face we show to all mankind.
while underneath the tenders lie
unfledged green, and yet unlined.
the softness still to be defined,
peeking through.
our desires revealed,
an intricacy of dreams concealed

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Jeffrey Kee

Run River Run

Run River Run.
Run through our mountains and hills.
Run into our shoes, teach us the blues.
Tell us a story of streams full of fish.
Bears and condors a northwest wish.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Sequoia Suriano

Earth

Smooth and cool are the ocean waters.
Warm and welcoming is the sun.
Majestic and awesome are the forests.
Lush and free is the grass.
Rough and abrasive are the rocks.
Distant and creamy is the sky.
Gentle and serene is the moonlight.
Radiant and beautiful are the flowers.
Encompassing and refreshing is the air.
Relaxing and cottony are the clouds.
Bright and energetic are the stars.
Fiery and fierce is the molten core.
Gritty and warm is the sand.
Hard and turbulent are the rivers.
Basic and powdery is the dirt.
Soft and calm are the lakes.
Seemingly everlasting are night and day.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Michael Barker

I am The Mountain

I am the mountain,
Set in my ways and not one to be trifled with.
I am the mountain,
Regal and stately, with my head in the clouds
I look down upon and through all who come to worship me.
I am the mountain,
Use and enjoy me, take me for granted
and you will pay with your life.
I am the mountain,
Snow capped, barren, timbered and with meadow.
I am the mountain,
I look upon tomorrow as I do eternity and the heavens,
Which encompass all things past present and future.
I am the mountain,
I acknowledge all of creation
but remain unable to explain even the smallest of wonders.
I am the mountain,
Giver and taker of life,
I was born of this earth, time, and
the elements, wind, rain, fire, and ice.
I am the mountain,
I am timeless and eternal
but though I die a little each day,
Yet I will live on forever and a day.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

The Next Good Rain

The dim trails we must sometimes follow
have never felt before
the print of humans or their boots,
only the hooves and claws of those
who in their ageless migrations
have inscribed the land in this careful way
Caribou, moose, wolf and grizzly
we encounter their tracks frequently
in creek bottoms or on a ridge's crest
and we place our own among them
understanding that we have changed the path
but that the next good rain
will wash us all away

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Shawnee Daniel

The Other Side

The stars are shinning and bright over head,
with hills and hills of farming.
They walk to a well one mile away, and
A bicycle means everything.
A strong family
Intelligence like we could never imagine -
A little bit of food twice a day.
Street lamps over-head.
Rows and rows of homes.
A walk down the hall and just turn the handle.
Kids here ask for money or a ride,
Get education in history and math, and
Appetizers and a main dish three times a day
You know the comparisons.
Now, here’s what I have to say . . .

We have more food,
Things to play with, and
A bed to sleep on.
They really work for their food,
so it tastes better.
They have each other to play with, and
Warm bodies to lie next to.
The grass is always greener
on the other side . . .
We have so much, yet so little
when it comes to what’s important.
They have so much, yet so little
When it comes to the essentials of life.
But I think that having a great and happy life
Like them,
And dying at a young age -
Is far better than having everything,
Including guilt,
Dying at 100
And leaving this earth
with nothing but guilt.
The grass is always greener
on the other side . . .

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Jeffrey Kee

Good Culverts gone bad

The Kingfisher called out a cacophony of encouragement.
Looking into the bare banked creek, I strained to see a shadow.
A branch broke the water and the riffle jerked my head around.
Where was that steelhead. Was that downstream culvert a complete barrier?
I wonder what year they put that culvert in?
Mr. Lanz told me he had been kept awake as a child in bed.
The fish splashing in Potter Creek, just a few hundred feet from where we now worked.
I imagined the images I could have conjured as a child hearing the creek splash.
Bigfoot probably, I would lay in bed too embarrassed to get up and just see some fish.
Waiting for the thump on the wall and then the breaking of glass.
Now my mind was creating newer visions.
Visions of bank so crowded with dogwood the bank would never move.
Choked with overhanging willow and cottonwood.
The Kingfisher called out over by the instrument.
Swooping and dropping and then lighting up on a bare alder limb.
The gravel looked good. The creek looked clear and good.
Despite two horses churning the mud.
We just need to let them get here.
The Kingfisher called out his agreement and slipped down the stream.
Into the cedars.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Susan Brown

Noon High

Noon high
on the Smith River
two rock perched eagles crying.
below them diamonds rushing by, glistening,
trying to listen to the breezes whistling through parched painted lips on high.
Sunset mosquitoes
perfumed with lemon balm
buzz near the ear.
Just now a toast -
a salute to summer, to family, to the moment.
Wine laced ice thrown into the black,
steamy, eyed forest.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Evy Kristensen

Cat Fish Cove

Off the main river
We find a small cove.
The water doesn't flow much,
But it's wet.
And deep enough
To get a full body cooled off.
As we sit eating
Our meager lunch,
I spy a dark shadow
Just below the surface.
Then another.
And another.
Eighteen inches of edible catfish.
But you know?
We're just visiting this place.
This is their home.
We'll leave them
To their peaceful cove.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Chaco
Wear and tears
hild

Songs like night birds come
whistling down the ink black cliffs
that blot out the stars
who teach.
I’m learning how not to be haunted
by these ancestral cries
and animal whispers
but dark winter canyons will
always make me tremble.
My startled blood thunders
as the voices gather,
my bones
shaking hands with the wind.

Voices carry
over time as well as distance.
I can hear them when I stand
on this remembered earth
dreaming back
the histories sustained within
its blistered shivering expanse.
Bone-seeking winds bear
timeless confessions of
this struggle that began with fire.
Litanies of toil and hunger,
celebration and fear,
sing through my ears
muted only by the dust of walls
that crumble secretly around me.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Karen Suriano

The Burn
Whispers

the mark of her unexpected touch
fell beneath the skin line,
sliced between his ribs
and lit upon a vast darkness,
a nothingness painstakingly ignored
convincingly denied.
he did not hear her words
but nodded mute agreement just the same,
waiving her away without daring to look.
hoping how he caught his breath escaped her.
she moved away as any other day,
unmindful of his suffering,
of her pyrotechnic power over him.
unaware such careless collisions of her fingertips against him
meant anything more than the delivery of mail, messages
and coffee.
Or, that they caused anything remotely in the third degree
she never even smelled the smoke
as she dreamed of setting such fires
in other men.
and went about her drudgery.
an accidental arsonist
igniting the embers
of his smoldering heart

PoetSpeak Reading Series

D. H. Bleything

Motion

The trail behind the house is slippery this time of year
with coarse dust that rolls out from under your feet.
It is so dry that maple and alder leaves are already falling
through the bright air landing yellow, brown and green,
foretelling the end to a peculiar season.
We are heading for autumn, when rain will knock bright leaves
from the trees and cracks in the ground will heal with water.
The wind will return to tatter the corn left standing in the garden
or sheaved on the porch for Halloween among the pumpkins,
a reminder that things turn brittle, even as they change.
The moon tonight is gibbous but lights the forest all the same.
You can see the trail heading into the dark woods away
from our home. The air is still and the trees are silent,
yet in the distance a train by the river blasts its whistle
filling this space with motion.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Susan Brown

Dawn Received

Dawn received
With piping hot, black nectar
In endangered bear and wolf mugs.
A smiling chuckle served
Between tales of back-pack trips,
Stories of red-barked trees
Covered in jig saw puzzle pieces
Like some exotic foreign map.
The morning walk,
A review of rosy cheeks, chartreuse hooded warriors,
Carnivores talking, nodding together.
Conversations centered upon
The heat, the moisture underfoot –
But, most likely the latest report
On the insect population.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Herb Stokes

The Lonesome Rain

Shuts her off
from outside
Then takes her into
dark corners
where yesterday waits
It opens hidden drawers
she keeps locked
for good reason
Regret pokes
at her memory
stirring up ancient ashes
that chokes -
and tears her eyes
Until the sun
appears
devouring
shadows
fading
lies

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Elena Suriano

Echo

I live in caves
And in closed rooms
And in people's minds
But where I
Want to live
Is in the wind
In thunder …
And even on the moon.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Edges Without Trees

Sleepless
I spy on the world after sunset,
haunted by its barren details . . .
shadow blue mountains
under pale clouds,
tundra catching the river glow,
edges without trees
I feel so small here.
insignificant, adrift,
the chill night ahead
and little hope of stars.
I want to shout,
but twilight
chokes my words
I am lucky
I am alive
these skies
can stop your heart

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Karen Suriano

Thoughts of Me

Thoughts of Me
will thoughts of me
be the smile, the eyes, the flesh, the kiss
or translucent shells of forgotten pleasure
will the feel of my arms be but a whisper on your skin
my face, my scent a distant flash
that skims and skips the surface of your thoughts
to quickly sink again
unnoticed
my laugh, my voice
skeletal remains of memory
a wind chime of fluted bones
bits of tune on a fleeting breeze
a song you almost remember
but choose to forget

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Night Swimming

Night swimming the Caribbean
water as warm as the air -
the salty brine a balm
to the maddening itch of mosquito bites and
sweaty sting of scrapes sustained
in the fevered exploration of ruins
I drift beneath a curve of sky
that trembles with the emanations
of jubilant stars celebrating
the new and invisible moon
I can hear the fronds of coconut palms
rustling on the tropical breeze
soothing like a gentle rain
I want to sail beyond
the edges of this healing sea,
this pulsating firmament.
I want to see how my skeleton fits
into the puzzle of the spheres
how my blood mixes
with the sacred elixirs
I want to climb the burning stairs
but I am called back
by the looping cries of reticent birds
the chirping rattle of frantic geckos
the whispering of a haunted land
The breakers on the reef
are distant drumming
to my dancing in the sand

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Michael Barker

Angel Song

Time and solitude are partners, it’s been that way from the start.
Solitude can drive you crazy, and time mends a broken heart.
When old dogs die they go to heaven and bark all day at the wind.
It’s been like that since the beginning and so it will be ‘till the end.
The restless tide will never cease and the wind will always blow.
There will always be secrets kept that some should never know.
The clock will tick, the sun will shine, and time keeps marching on.
Then one day before you know it, your life will be near gone.
You should never look into the sun, its luster will sear your sight.
Never be afraid to boldly go, into the darkness of the night.
Idle time is no man’s friend and loneliness can kill.
Sugar keeps you up at night and a cup too full will spill.
We walk the earth for an instant in the grand scheme of things:
Be aware of the glory of God and the songs the angel sings.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Sequoia Suriano

Plum Tree

I was climbing in the plum tree,
and mostly I did just that.
I was swinging like a monkey,

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Marcia Myers

Autumn Gastronome

Ah autumn,
bring your gorgeous gifts!
Cider mulling as Indian Summer does
Salome’s seductive dance,
Sauerbraten marinating,
Shropshire fidget pie fresh from the oven.
Venison stew,
Smoked duck,
Baked pheasant if your luck prevails.
Acorn, butternut and turban squash
End of the garden mustard pickles.
First frost, the killing of the hog,
Ham, bacon, pork chops,
Head cheese and pickled pigs feet
for the year to come.
Jonathans, Winesaps and popcorn,
English walnuts to be shelled,
Grapes for the crush and ferment,
Fried green tomatoes
and mincemeat by the jar.
Palms perfumed by parsley, garlic, rosemary,
Thyme, tarragon or lemon balm.
Autumn awe.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Barry Kennedy

Writer’s Solution

Ideas flash in my head
Even while I’m in bed
They like to take control
They come and then go
They pop out of my mouth
Often unannounced
So what should I do?
Get in a big stew
No, that won’t work
They’ll continue to lurk
Ready to come out
And make me shout
At the wrong time
These ideas are mine
I realize one thing
Ideas are my offspring
They will come and go
But my writing will ever flow
A writer’s solution
To idea pollution

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Marcia Myers

Best Wishes

I am a collector
of Merrythoughts . . .
For I need all
the luck I can gather
You only get one
per chicken, turkey,
squab or game hen,
pheasant, goose or peacocky
Let them dry
then grab a friend
Make a wish and hope,
cross your fingers,
close you eyes,
and SNAP
Did you get the most,
or did your friend,
How did the wishbone bend?
For wishbones
are Merrythoughts
And Merrythoughts . . .
bones of wishes be
I couldn’t wish
more than that
For you, my soulful friend,
And me!

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Dennis Bleything

Tilt

The sun lifts
through the worn notch
south of the mountain.
Black trees on the island snap
to silhouette. Floating
in the dredge-carved lagoon,
two gravel barges tilt back
with half loads
small islands themselves.
This day tilts as well,
as if a child had died
or a lover, and the one left,
to make a bridge, offers
something to say.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Catching Trout In The Sun

I hid from the autumn rain
at dusk near Lost Creek
wrote a sad letter to my wife
waited for the storm to pass
for the elk to start their bugling
shivering in a black mist
In a different stream, the next day
I would be catching trout in the sun

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Kurt Kristensen

Boulders

The river is very low,
Already one bed is dry,
And looks dead.
In this branch of the river
The rocks are just appearing;
And they sing
As long as water flows.
Once they are bereft
Of water
They will look like the heads
Of tired old men.
But, for now
They sing, and inspire the water
With gladness.
Sounds float across
The sheer water face;
It’s the chorus of a market day
Where families mingle,
Just to be together.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Shawnee Daniel

Friends

Friends are like ancient artifacts, very fragile.
If you dig up an artifact, then break it . . .
how do you feel?
You feel like you'll never be able to fix it, and
It goes the same way with friendships.
If you discover something that’s going great, and then you drop it …
Everything falls apart.
Is there any way to repair a broken friendship?
Or do you just find new friends?
But what if most people don’t like you?
Or you just don’t like them ?
Then what happens?
I'll tell you what happens;
You feel as though your whole life has fallen apart.
There’s no way to replace a fantastic friend.
It will stay with you forever...
I know so.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Barry Kennedy

Rude People

I don’t want to be a prude
But today people can be rude.
They talk loud on their cell,
Not caring how I feel.
Some blow smoke my way,
Making me cough all day.
Some cut me off on the freeway,
Causing me to try and get away.
Some wear some strong perfume
That makes me sneeze and fume.
What can I do about these people?
Yell loud to the highest steeple:
“Stop being so rude and impolite,”
And try with all my might
Not to be a rude person.
No matter what the reason!

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Evy Kristensen

Pram or Stroller

Pram or stroller?
I wonder:
Is it more healthy for a child
To keep Mama in sight?
Feel secure in knowing he's safe?
Or face the world
And all its adventures!
Can riding backwards
For the first year of his life
Put his thinking in reverse?
Or will he be able to think
"outside the box"?
Facing forward could help him
Put his best foot forward
When he encounters the challenges
Of life.
Or does it even matter?

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Placed As You Are

In the wind that blows
between living and surviving,
allow yourself the grace
of being without motion,
placed as you are
wherever you are
between earth and sky
a part of neither
you are consumed by both
you know the sting of fire,
the taste of the sea,
the clamp of water's chill
on your skull and spine,
the wearying grind
of desert and prairie,
forest and tundra,
the nausea of clouds
You know the mountain
from above and below,
from without and within.
rain falls into you
and you have been known
to vanish into streams
Resting, you will dream
with the calm of stones
arranged in celestial rows,
you will let the falling snow
like stars
gather in your wondering eyes,
placed as you are
wherever you are
between earth and sky

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Herb Stokes

Left Leaning Tree

Looking at the tree today
you would not know why
it leans to the left.
The trunk, bent when
seeking sunlight
from behind the
billboard
that kept it in
half shade
for a quarter century.
Unknown except by school boys
that hung from its thin branches
before it was ready to be climbed
A wiry maple with oversized leaves
to make up for too little light.
An adjunct only
used as a starting point for children
exploring the back of the billboard
before it was turned down
Still time
to grow
straight.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

ln A Pool Of winds

Where waterfalls drench green stone
I dip my head in a pool of winds and
drink every passion deep,
every memory hard into my flesh,
into my animal mind,
scattered by trains and rivers,
fallen trees and falling skies;
the roots of an ancient mountain
the soggy web of life woven
across watering eyes.
With no feeling of returning,
I know that I am home -
or I will never be home again.

Up on Hamilton Mountain
nibbling thimbleberries and testing
the pungent crunch of wild onions,
I listen to the hiss of trees
in windy fog and rain
and down along the white-capped river
a train slithers with flatcars of timber.
I have no right to mourn, I am
an animal to all other animals and
of the earth I will always take
more than I can give.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Jeffrey Kee

The Kenai
Sight

The sky was wet with gray
as we slipped into the green of the river.
A green river full of fish.
Like a Ray Troll picture, the mangled, decaying,
alive and dead humpies.
Humpies everywhere.
A fishermans' first silvers.
Bouncing eggs and then a tension,
a pull and the stripping of the silvers.
Hoots and hollers.
Crown, Baileys and coffee.
Eagles, gulls, bears and humpies.
Humpies floating, humpies dead.
Disintegrating in the current.
Their flesh dissolving into the system.
Caked with silt and fungus.
Rising and diving.
The swimming dead feeding life into the river.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Elena Suriano

Light
Sight

Light blinds a lot of people.
We dream in it.
We use it.
We color it many times.
We even make it.
It is one of many reasons
Why we see.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Kurt Kristensen

Fire Peace

Campfires are a blessing
For tired brains;
They require
No thinking.
The redhot coals pulse
With life,
Ashes lift, relieved
Of their burdens,
And smoke curls free,
Releasing a bouquet of smells
That evoke images
So real
They dance in the heart
Of the redhot coals.
Fire cleanses,
And from the ashes
Eventually will sprout
New life.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

Neahkanie Morning

Orange sky vanishing
over Neahkanie Mountain,
Nehalem Bay lost in
a gauze of blue fog
invisible waves hiss
on the spruce-toned wind
On the summit, alone.
I am prone in tangles of
writhing manzanita -
dark clouds on my back,
nose to the salty loam.
I am deep into where I am from
I always knew it would be this way,
unreachable sea
pulling me
endlessly

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Michael Barker

The Dreamer

A blind man told me once,
long ago -
that he could see the wind,
I never gave it too much thought,
and continued along my way.
Tonight as I sit here all alone,
I can hear those words again.
I wondered why it took so long,
and I wondered why today.
But that old man didn’t fool me -
I could see it too.
I saw the leaves in the trees every time it blew, and
His words stalked and haunted me;
they festered up and grew.
When at last I understood,
I heard his voice again…
Any fool can look at trees,
But it takes a dreamer to see the wind.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Dennis Bleything

White Moth

The small white moth spread
on the basalt stone, wings
longer than its body, waiting
for the black stone to spread
into night, when it can rise
a small chip of light to fly
once again, once again.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Karen Suriano

Somnolent

Somnolent,
my favored cat,
rousing only to eat,
vacate
and mutter at birds beyond the window glass.
how was I to know?
Oh, Somnolent
ye of little locomotion
but much fur and fat.
I didn't notice when you overslept
upon the windowsill straining to uphold your mass.
I didn't notice your tail not twitch,
your whiskers not stitch
in a world-encompassing yawn.
I didn't notice until your food was not gone.
Oh, Somnolent, you matted fool.
somehow you managed still to drool
as you slipped into your final sleep.
I hope in cat heaven
there is enough
for you to eat.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Marcia Myers

A Personal Psalm of Thanksgiving

Holy One,
The day is winding down
The time for its celebration
has come
I lift this glass to
your glorious sunrise
Swallow this bread in
remembrance of the bluebird
in my apple tree
Savor this cheese with pleasure
as I read the letter
from a friend
I thank you
that today I
was spared tragedy
Today I received joy
and laughter and camaraderie
And on the days
that aren’t like this . . .
Let me remember
to be thankful the day is over
and respite from it
awaits me

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Herb Stokes

Horizontal Man

There were more horizontal edges to him than vertical,
so he became a collector of things, but one by one
each covered up the other,
until the shiny new became dulled and gritted
under soft, paper thin layers of quiet desire
that turned cold and dry as powered snow,
that turned cold and dry as untouched dust,
as time went on.
Undefined against a sky,
while on a playing field, where he sat hunched
and watched until late into the day
then shivered when night came on.
But he was a horizontal man
and had no choice but to be what he was.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Eric Walter

A Prayer

Spirit that walks with me
help me to understand the sky
before it is gone.
Help me to know the animals
before they vanish forever.
Help me to see into the heart of the land
before it stops beating.
Help me to speak with my people
before our tongues are still.
Spirit that goes with me,
give me courage in the dark night.
Give me strength to bear the fierce wind.
Give me warmth in bitter cold.
Stay with me through angry times
and stay with me in love.
Encourage me in doubtful times
that I may never know despair.

Spirit that speaks to me,
teach me of the Earth
and her infinite wonders.
Tell me the story
of the very first story.
Whisper the truth
of the very first word.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Editor’s Notes

With the help of a never-ending flowering of writers, we, in the Northwest, are rich beyond words, and the success of PoetSpeak’s years of producing performances in the Northwest attest to our joy.
Our formula is simple: Poetry is needed! Especially “Accessible, Useful and Enjoyable” Poetry!
Our advisory board comes and goes as their family and private obligations permit, and they help us dream and change to meet our community’s need. Our next project is to add audio to poems on the web site.
PoetSpeak’s core concepts of “Accessible, Useful and Enjoyable” poetry have remained constant as we have evolved to meet needs of poets and audiences. And, along the way, PoetSpeak has quietly succeeded.
There are still challenges to be met; if you have skills, time, passion and resources we welcome your help:
Professional video taping of performances
Professional help with CD recording of poets
Distribution of anthologies and posters
PoetSpeak Neighborhood Library/Bookstore circle
PoetSpeak Salon
PoetSpeak writers love to gather for a PoetSpeak Salon at our home; it’s an event where we socialize with home-made soup and bread and share new poems. Not a critique group, but a joyful environment to share newly gestated art. Look at schedule on www.poetspeak.com and email us at editor@poetspeak.com if interested; we will contact you when we can confirm we have enough people interested in the same evening.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Editor’s Notes

Board of Advisors
You are always welcome to serve a period of your choice. We appreciate any energy and time you can contribute, and, always, we look for new ways to make PoetSpeak pursue its mission. Our only criteria is that you love life, and know that poetry is an essential part of life.
Poets
Artists are private people, but they welcome your contact. You can reach each poet by emailing PoetSpeak’s editor. Just go to our website and click on “Email Us”:
www.poetspeak.com.

PoetSpeak Reading Series

Reader’s Notes

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