For the inner ear, the voice of the vessel of silence is an embrace
felt by an infinite number of scribes.
It is my wish to offer here an oasis of present day poetic
Each month i shall invite new poets to breathe with, and they in
turn will bring guests of their own.
Poetry Corner at TIFERET has evolved out of Donna Stein’s
enthusiasm to nurture the spirit of beauty in all its forms.
September 2010 Silent Lotus’ Selected
and her guest Carol Peters
and his guest David Sten Herrstrom
Dissonant music of come-hither recalls three I’d
forgotten: decoy carvers named Heissler, Fitzpatrick,
and English. Men honing shapes to spells to lure down
hen and drake. Look how the flock lowers, as one
body will seek another. Love is part cunning,
part care. Does a decoy carver destroy or
preserve? Yes, says a voice. And Yes.
Have you heard the landing song? In air it skirls
and in water fizzes. Notes of olive or yellow.
Red notes, maybe. Or black. Whatever color, the
skimming feet make bevies of bubbles: eyes
infinite and wise and I think they imagine me blissful,
buoyant in the womb before I’m put through my
history, before I stand in front of stones to read my
parents’ names in granite. Their graves close to those of
Heissler, Fitzpatrick, and English. Names of makers.
Names whose linkage brings me wistful music.
And I wonder if you’ve heard the
fluent dead speaking Brant? Did you get the
letter in Merganser? Or was the translation lost?
Today the guns are silent. Across the pond
comes longing. Listen. Your
name is changing shape. At times sunlit
and solitary, at times dark and among others.
Watch water brim, see it silver and
shiver and touch both shores.
The sky hides a puzzle. You must be a
missing bit. Dropped by heaven-hand to
beguile and lead me astray.
Where are we going? White violet, you say.
Why haven’t I lived my life
riveted to your flutter? You beat as if you
knew my heart by heart. Memorized every
second that every gave me joy.
Where are we going?
Old field cinquefoil, you answer.
Yellow, yellow, yellow, calls a bird
intimate with the plan. You rise, dip towards
shoreline where sea enfolds sky. Jut of
coast cuffed with stone and
sleeved by blue: wild flag in bloom.
Was there a thing called winter?
Sorrow-kite, break string and fly.
I am an iris among irises
lofting into butterfly and we are
firmly under sail and I have left two feet
ashore. Farewell, faithful servants who
carried me thus far.
*azure – a small blue butterfly common in the
|Margot Farrington’s second collection is “Flares And Fathoms”|
(Bright Hill Press).
Farrington was a recipient of a Norton Island fellowship in 2009.
An interview and reading of her poetry recorded early in 2010 may
be accessed via Art On Air International Radio.
|Carol Peters reads & writes, walks & bikes, adores the|
outdoors, loves family & friends. Read her latest book:
Visit her blog: http://carolpeters.blogspot.com/.
Carol lives in Hawaii & Charleston, is moving to
The cool hilltop air
caresses our soul.
Our warm embrace
elevates us to
the golden crescent as
we drift blissfully
into the blue sky
in the far,
in the near,
halt our ascent,
Love and peace
for Jacob Landau
To a relentless fire I awoke,
awoke to touch only wet ashes,
heaven’s tears cleansing souls
in fear and awe
ascending Jacob’s ladder.
Toward liberty’s cross, I rushed
rushed to freeze hammers, nails
piercing flesh, blood stopping
mouths of dry skulls
crying out for justice and peace.
With angelic joy, I soared
soared with prophets leading away
from stumbling, dark pits, and
toward the New Jerusalem.
When will you learn
to seek shelter in the shadow
of God’s wings
|Saliba Sarsar is Associate Vice President for Global|
Initiatives and Professor of Political Science at Monmouth
University. In addition to his scholarly works on the Middle East,
he is the author of two books of poetry. The first, titled
Crosswinds, was published by Mellen Poetry Press. The
poems included impressions of a teenager experiencing Jerusalem
under Jordanian and Israeli rule, and maturing in a land of
“between war and peace.” The second, Seven Gates of
Jerusalem, was published in Haifa by Kul-Shee in a bilingual
(English/Arabic) edition. It speaks with a trans-communal voice
meant to rediscover the essence of the human condition and direct
its energy toward understanding ‘the other’ and the environment of
which we are all a part. His individual poems have appeared in a
variety of venues, including the Monmouth Review, Upstate
Magazine, Voice of the Shore, The New York Times, This Broken
Shore, and the Asbury Park Press.
HOW LIGHT FINDS LAST NIGHT’S LOVE
The moist body of light that loves nothing
touches down on a black-furrowed field.
Fanned out, wings slow the body from flight.
We are like that as we slope through love.
Just wake wake to one state of the world:
light bathing naked in the black shallows of a field.
And all things look at us. We have made love
like light continually used up in making the world.
Discovered by a brief bright providence
we can say it truly we live in Paradise.
|David Sten Herrstrom, a resident of Roosevelt, NJ, is a poet,|
writer, and lecturer. His poems have appeared in numerous
magazines, such as Columbia: A Journal of Literature & Art,
Nimrod, and US1 Worksheets, and his hypertext poems
are available on the web at The
New River: a Journal of Digital Writing & Art. He has
published two books, including Jonah’s Disappearance, a
sequence of poems with drawings by Jacob Landau. In addition, he
wrote the libretto for Mark Zuckerman’s opera, The Outlaw and
the King: David and Saul, A Tragedy, which has been performed
in concert version at Rutgers University.
Recipient of a Poetry Fellowship from the NJ State Council on the
Arts and a Nimrod prize, his poems have been selected for
the Columbia 40th Issue Retrospective and nominated for a
Pushcart Prize. He has given readings in many venues, including the
Dodge Poetry Festival and Monmouth University. Since moving to
Roosevelt in 1975, he has served on the Board of Education and was
a founding board member of the Roosevelt Arts Project, serving for
over 15 years as President. He is also president of the Jacob
Landau Institute. He holds a doctorate in English literature from
New York University, has taught at Queens College, and is currently
Adjunct Professor at Monmouth University.
Poetry Corner Monthly Archives
POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … AUGUST 2010
POETRY CORNER by silent lotus … JUNE 2010
CORNER by silent lotus … MAY 2010
Jennifer: Thank you for your post. Calmness seems like a condition of the body, mind, and spirit that can allow a person to sit or stroll in silence. You can be calm even amidst the racket of traffic on Broadway. You can remain silent yet not be calm (e.g., “the silent treatment”). External silence is the elimination of most audible sounds relative to the listener, but external silence alone does not guarantee internal silence. My study can be completely free of external sound except perhaps a faint wood thrush, but if I am engaged in social media my mind may be calm but it’s not silent. Internal silence is such a rare state for me and for most people with whom I work. Sometimes, though, when all I can hear is an inner hum and a witnessing voice, that degree of “silence” is satisfying. Silence, of course, is relative as the whole universe vibrates with motion and sound. George Michelsen Foy wrote a book about his journey to silence and keeps a blog on PsyToday: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/shut-and-listen/201003/why-we-need-silence-survive. You might like it.