You’re invited! The Witness Protection Program Poets request the pleasure of your company at the LAUNCH PARTY for our new Chapbooks on Tuesday, May 18th at 3:00 PM. Zoom Link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85937283823?pwd=TW1Kc005aVh1dS8rU1J0Y2ljZzZtdz09 FUN Please keep your microphone muted upon entry.
The Witness Protection Poets Chapbook Collective Presents
Lies and lockdowns
elections and insurrections
uprisings and upheavals
fires and floods—it’s been a world of dread
and extinction hard pressed to find distinction.
Yet
with changes and challenges
inspiration often perspiration
always motivation—
this group of poets has grabbed
the bad
turned lemons into sweet, sweet pies.
On Mayday, the Witness Protection Program Poets exchanged their first ever collection of chapbooks. Seventeen writers dug deep into their hearts and souls to make sense of the world around us—for the happier or sadder, the bolder or the fearful, in awe or anger.
Take founder Nick Triglia‘s 21 Reasons to Slit One’s Wrists— “2. ” ( you fill in the blank!) in The Backroom of the Believe It or Not Museum of Prose and Poetry, or Betsy Roman’s, A Chronicle Through Chaos: A poetic preservation of unhinged history sifted from the debris of Election 2020— “Black lives white lies orange skies” perfectly sums it up.
Antonia’ Allegra’s ConverSAYtions offers clever word play and solid advice: “Considering conflicting news/rushing at us like/water from a fire hose,/take U and E from FAUCETS/to reveal the FACTS.” Valli Ferrell’s Lens, tells us How To Be Cheerful, “Do appreciate/ do say it/ out loud to no one/ to the bird trill in the brittle cold air.” And Dina Corcoran’s Christmas Cards reminds us: “My life is richer for [our] continued contact. . .[they] are treasures.”
The poems take us on journeys of discovery, of contemplation, joy and song. Marianne Lyon Travels with Aruba, her Love-Dog— “Come love-dog let us take a meander. . . ” Cathy Carsell‘s Of Earth and Sky filled with poetic lyrics and refrains transport us away: “There’s music in the wind/in New Orleans late at night/as it moves through the treetops/on a warm spring night. . .Music in the wind/Listen in. . . .”
These chapbooks offer us reflections on nature. Marilyn Dykstra writes in Full Circle Reflections—Sycamore Grove Park Haiku #3—”Black ashen earth/Soaked with recent autumn rains,/A green carpet sprouts“. Nathaniel Winters advises us, “Without the birds and bees no flowers appear/food becomes scarce/animals and man become endangered/love can’t bloom” in Art of Living from his collection, Seeking Sunshine. And from Yvonne Henry’s poems and art work, 6:57 AM “The sun rose slightly/ askew/ causing/ for a moment/ the dove and I to tilt our heads.”
“Ekphrastic fantastic” poet James McDonald reflects on art in Visual Language, “Diego the last thought, always Diego/ my essence reaches out/ for rebirth in the rich soil/ fertile in death/ barren in life/ from Diego On My Mind.
These writings cause us to consider our losses and our longings—from “Tangential” by Sarah Miller in Off on a Tangent: “Like the time my hand brushed her hair/ from her dying forehead/ like you wished you had” or, “Give me back that summer/ even the tattling sister/ once a waterskiing champion, destined/ for deep, slow rotting in her bones.” from “Deep, Slow” in Little Palace of Illness by Ana Manwaring, and from Things I’m Wrestling With , “Miscarriage” by Noel Robinson, “Pregnancy loss does not define a woman. It is merely the involuntary actions of the uterus that brings death to the fetus. If the life inside the mother perishes, she survives along with her dreams and hopes. I know, I am part of the woodwork containing the sorrow of the past. . . .”
Finally, many of the poems, essays, and memoir written in these chapbooks make us look at our lives and into our hearts to know the truth of our own humanity. Through the eyes and words of others we come to complete ourselves. In the words of Arthur T. Robinson in his introduction to Riding the Goat: An Anti-memoir, “. . .writers of all cultures , genders, and ages have wrestled with the tricky stance of writing. . . one’s past real, seeking out . . . patterns, and deducing vital lessons.”
Join the conversation—come for the FUN!
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85937283823?pwd=TW1Kc005aVh1dS8rU1J0Y2ljZzZtdz09
Forgiveness isn’t for the perpetrator of our hurt, it’s for our own peace and happiness. Not letting go of hurt, pain, resentment, or anger harms us far more than it harms your sister, boyfriend, mother, boss, wife, friend. It frees us to live in the present without anger, contempt or seeking revenge. In fact, it doesn’t only free us from negative feelings and actions, it reduces depression and stress, allowing us to embrace peace, hope and self confidence. Forgiveness is a balm of healing for hurt, grievance and guilt; it is not acceptance of wrongs done to you or wrongs you have done to others. And it isn’t quick and easy—it’s a practice.
THE WHOLE WORLD IS A TELEPHONE BOOTH
This week, poet, Dominic “Nick” Triglia, shares his unique experience of the October firestorm.
Nick says this about himself:
I was born a “blue baby” in 1950 at the old hospital on Spring St. in Calistoga. The owners of the hospital always told me I was the last baby born there. When I found out they were wrong, I changed it to: I was the last good lookin baby born in the hospital.
I wore the blue uniform of the Postal Service for 34 years. I love blue skies, the deep blue sea, blue movies, listening to the blues, and drinking red wine.
Nick is also a producer of poetry events in the Upper Napa Valley
atlasobscura.com
The Whole World Is a Telephone Booth
15 items or less
express lane
in heavy traffic
woman shares
answers to questions
near the
National Enquirer rack
“We packed the RV
then unpacked
got another advisory
my brother in the urn
put back in the house”
Mom takes him back
to the RV
can’t decide
to take him or not
Dad said to leave him
“he’s only ashes anyway”
Mom said, “yeah
but that’s all I’ve got
of him, he’s goin.”
khan.com
Message Machine
She left his message
of not being home
“to leave a message”
on the phone
seven years
since his passing
his voice lets you know
that he and she
are not at home.
Evacuated
she calls their number
hears his voice
calls five times a day
said “if he answers
I know our home
is safe from the fire”
Each time she listens
to his recorded voice
she kisses the receiver.
greifhealingblog.com
Smoke over the Napa Valley October 2017. Marina Torres
M
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Filed under Commentary, Fire Season, Poetry, Students
Tagged as fire stories, Poetry, telephone booths