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Alan Lowe, poet, writer, and the coordinator of the Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest

Huddart Park, San Francisco Peninsula

“Instruction does much, but encouragement everything.” (Letter to A.F. Oeser, Nov. 9, 1768), Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Early and Miscellaneous Letters of J. W. Goethe: Including Letters to His Mother. With Notes and a Short Biography



This is a poem by Alan Lowe. You might remember that Alan is the gentleman who – along with Sue Clark, the members of the Poets Club of Lincoln, The Lincoln Library and The Friends of the Lincoln Library – invited readers to submit poems to be considered for the library’s annual poetry contest, no demographic or geographic restrictions, and no entry fee. Details on the 15th Annual Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest HEREI wanted to introduce you to Alan and what better way to do so than with a poem he wrote? It’s a poem that reminds us of just how vulnerable we can be as school-age youth.

My Special Angel

I’m trembling,
but I don’t know why.
She tells me
I shouldn’t be scared,
but I am.
I want to believe her—
my wonderful, special angel.
She has never let me down,
but this seems different.
I can’t put my finger on it—
it’s so hard to describe.
With dark, black clouds overhead,
gray shadows pervade my world.
Graceful ghostlike figures dance
to a tune I’m unable to hear.
They motion to me to join them,
to become a part of their show.
The trembling gets worse,
tears form in my eyes.
I want to run away
and hide from the things
I don’t understand and can’t explain.
But my angel tells me I must not.
“It’s just part of growing up,”
she declares.
“You have to face your demons,
conquer your fears,
and develop into a strong person.”
“But I’m only twelve-years old,”
I cry out in frustration.
“I know,” she says,
placing her hands on my shoulders,
as she turns to go back
to the front of the classroom.

Copyright © 2016 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.

ALAN LOWE (The Truth of the Matter Is ….) was born and raised in New York, but has spent over fifty-four years in California, the past seventeen living in Lincoln with his wife, Barbara. Earning a Ph.D. in Educational Psychology/Counseling from UCLA, he spent thirty-nine years working in higher education as a teacher, counselor, and administrator. He retired in 2008. His background in Psychology colors his writing, much of which centers on feelings, perceptions, and how people interact in our complex world. In retirement, he enjoys writing poetry, short stories, and plays. His poetry has placed in contests and has been published in newspapers and periodicals. Three of the plays he has written have been performed under his direction. As a member of the Poets Club of Lincoln, he has served as the Coordinator of the Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest since 2009. The contest has grown steadily and has become international in scope.


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CELEBRATING AMERICAN SHE-POETS (#35): Joan Leotta, playing with words on page

“Now each square’s

a pathway back to childhood”


Quilt

Sitting on my couch,

I snuggle under a quilt

made from Grandma’s coats.

Each square’s cut from a day

we went out together

to shop, to lunch, or church.

I would lean against her

in car, streetcar or taxi

when I was weary of it all.

Grandma would hug me,

pull me close— my cheek

against each season’s coat,

comforting me.

Now each square’s

a pathway back to childhood

when my cheek

on grandma’s coat

could quiet the discord of a

too busy world.

© Joan Leotta

Quilt was fist published by the North Carolina Silver Arts Group where it won the state’s Bronze Medal for Poetry in 2017

Pie by Another Name

A few over-ripe

peaches in the fruit bin

beg to be sliced

into the succor

of a single crust

laid onto a flat pan.

Then, from the bowl

where I dusted slices

with cornstarch,

brown sugar,

I lay the peaches

on the crust and

overlay all with pats

of sweet butter.

My baker-trained fingers

seek to shape all into

pie formation,

but I’m left with a

flat pastry whose

edges I twist to hold

in peachy goodness, then

bake, this oddly-shaped

concoction.

Leftover baked peaches in

misshapen dough—

much better

when called,

galette.

© Joan Leotta

Illustration “Starting a New Quilt” courtesy of Anna under CC BY 2.0 license

JOAN LEOTTA  (What Editors Want You to Know, Joan Leotta’s Encouraging Words through pen and performance-interviews with Editors) has been playing with words on page and stage since childhood. She performs regularly for children and adults and writes for both audiences as well–poetry, essays, short fiction, novels, picture books, and magazine and newspaper articles. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, Silver Birch, Postcard Poems and Prose, The Ekphrastic Review and Creative Inspirations. She delights in finding beauty in the ordinary
and in imagining the story behind a work of art. When not at computer or on stage, you can find her with family, walking the beach, or in the kitchen.
Author, Story Performer
“Encouraging words through Pen and Performance”
Giulia Goes to War, Letters from Korea, A Bowl of Rice, Secrets of the Heart historical fiction in Legacy of Honor Series; Simply a Smile--collection of Short Stories; WHOOSH! Picture book from THEAQ; Download a mini-chapbook of Joan’s poems HERE. Connect with Joan on Facebook HERE. Joan’s Amazon Page HERE.

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I Am the Answer, a poem … and your next Wednesday Writing Prompt

“Girls are one of the most powerful forces for change in the world: When their rights are recognized, their needs are met, and their voices are heard, they drive positive change in their families, their communities, and the world.” Kathy Calvin, United Nations Foundation President & CEO



They come like thistle and thorn,

and write their rage upon my body.

They come like locusts and

feed on the fields of my soul.

Like an angry storm, they drown me.

Like the desert sands, they sufficate me.

They see me, a little person of

little consequence …

a girl.

Just a trinket, a toy, a receptical.

Something to sell, buy, and trade …

a workhorse.

– But hear me –

I am the answer.

I am the calm after the storm.

I am the antidote to your stone heart

and desiccated soul.

I am the future, the present, the past.

I am the hope, the dream, the reality.

I am authentic.

I am human.

I am the answer.

~ As the women go, so goes the world ~

© 2010, Jamie Dedes; illustration courtesy of Mohamed Mohamed Mahmoud Hassan, Public Domain Pictures.net

WEDNESDAY WRITING PROMPT

“There are more than 500 million adolescent girls living in the developing world today. Every one of them can potentially help break the cycle of intergenerational poverty, with ripple effects multiplying across her society.” Anthony Lake, Executive Director of the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF)

In November 2010, I wrote I Am the Answer for a Universal Children’s Day event sponsored by UNICEF. It’s not that men don’t make constructive contributions. It’s not that boys and men don’t suffer.  It’s just that we’ve seen what a difference it makes in the lives of all children and the grown-ups they become – no matter the gender – when women are respected, educated, and not forced into marriage. What difference would it make if women and girls were not looked down upon within their cultures, religions, the workplace, and government? What difference would it make in the world if girls were always and everywhere seen as fully human. Tell us in your poem/s.

Share your poem/s on theme in the comments section below or leave a link to it/them. All poems on theme are published on the first Tuesday following the current Wednesday Writing Prompt. (Please no oddly laid-out poems.)

 No poems submitted through email or Facebook will be published. 

IF this is your first time joining us for The Poet by Day, Wednesday Writing Prompt, please send a brief bio and photo to me at thepoetbyday@gmail.com to introduce yourself to the community … and to me :-). These are partnered with your poem/s on first publication.

PLEASE send the bio ONLY if you are with us on this for the first time AND only if you have posted a poem (or a link to one of yours) on theme in the comments section below.  

Deadline:  Monday, May 20 by 8 pm Pacific Standard Time.

Anyone may take part Wednesday Writing Prompt, no matter the status of your career: novice, emerging or pro.  It’s about exercising the poetic muscle, showcasing your work, and getting to know other poets who might be new to you. This is a discerning non-judgemental place to connect.

You are welcome – encouraged – to share your poems in a language other than English but please accompany it with a translation into English.


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CELEBRATING MOTHERS’ DAY (U.S.) PART 3: a separate peace, a poem

“I think this to myself even though I love my daughter. She and I have shared the same body. There is a part of her mind that is a part of mine. But when she was born she sprang from me like a slippery fish, and has been swimming away ever since. All her life, I have watched her as though from another shore.” Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club



Note: This is the third in a three-part series celebrating Mothers’ Day, which is today in the U.S.. All the pieces were published some time ago – here and/or elsewhere and it just feels right to publish again this year. I hope you’ll enjoy this short series … And Happy Mothers’ Day to all the mothers and to all the dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents and older siblings who are covering for moms who are gone.

sometimes …
near impossible to see past the manic crowds
or to lift our eyes to look at the wholesome
trees inscribing their calm upon the sky

sometimes …
we record our fears with writing utensils,
call them weapons, coloring the margins
of our books with the dry dust of martyrdom

sometimes …
the children use their pages to blot away their
mothers’ tears, turning backs on the old refrains,
hearing their own souls speak, deaf to their fathers

sometimes …
those children fell trees, transforming them
to paper and well-sharpened pencils, their lives
written in the manner of their own separate peace

“Everything has to evolve or else it perishes.” John Knowles, A Separate Peace

Originally published in Brooklyn Memories

© 2013, poem, Jamie Dedes; illustration courtesy of Dawn Hudson, Public Domain Pictures.net

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