Things in Light Poetry Series 2013: Janette Papp

The fifth installment of the 2013 TiL Poetry Series features work by mother/student of psychology/bookworm/native Californian Janette Papp. Among submissions from new poets, Ms. Papp's work piqued our interest with its clarity and intensity of voice. 

Jack's Journey

he'd hopped the bus in Philly.

'westward, ho'

he had joked.

one woman laughed, with a wry smile

and no teeth.

no memories before that remain.

six years

four women. five women if you count...

well, six.

he had told them his name was Kurt.

it was really Jack.

as they left him, inevitably, he said

"my name is Jack".

he craved that reverberating slamming door

the way it vibrated his chest cavity.

that was always the best part.

word got around.

his name is Jack.

now he's ever alone.

he plays Dylan on Sunset.

every day.

hoping for one of the seven women

to chance by.

The Blue Bench

This thing before me is not the thing that was,

so many realities ago.

I close my eyes to verify the image.

There it is, our favorite bench, sturdy and inviting.

Such a lovely blue. Robin's egg blue.

We had sat there finding each other

all those long afternoons.

It was our blue heaven, that bench.

A long-lost smile lands on my lips.

A peculiar feeling.

I open my eyes to force-feed them

the truth that is no longer our bench.

It sits broken, abused and scarred,

spray painted with words I don't understand.

That wayward smile threatens to leave,

but I command it to stay.

I leave that bench for the last time,

taking with me the unexpected smile

that found me there.

Tea for Two

"Honey and lemon?",

she asked him,

even though she knew the answer.

It was the same answer every morning.

Yet, an unexpected silence

coaxed her to look up

from the tea she was pouring.

His chair sat empty.

And dusty.

She was reminded,

just like yesterday morning,

and the morning before that,

that she and his chair

had been left behind.

Two years ago.

Or was it three?

It seemed like just yesterday

when she heard him mumble,

"But I don't like tea".

Oh, dear, she thought.

She finished pouring the two cups.

Well, then, "Honey and lemon, it is".

***

Janette Papp is a native Californian whose main focus is her four children. She has always been an avid reader, but has only recently found a passionate interest in writing. She attended California State University, San Bernardino many years ago, studying psychology. She continues to have an extensive interest in how the human brain works and changes through time, which one might catch glimpses of in her writing. 

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Things in Light Poetry Series 2013: Martina Reisz Newberry

Welcome to our second annual poetry series. Last year we focused on New Mexico poets and their work. This year we decided to apply a global methodology to supplant our insular inclinations. We'll try to publish a set per day until the damn well runs dry. Our first contribution is from Martina Reisz Newberry. Enjoy.

1. ABOUT THE RAIN

Dark, rainy morning

My coat, a closeted slash

Blood-red reminder

Wet sand, so cheerless,

The desert is too honest

When it’s sad, it weeps

Ragweed sends great sighs

Lightning brings out its muscle

It’s never afraid

A white crane    out there

The sand doesn’t even stir

Crane bringing showers

2. REDHEAD

When I saw her at the Coffee Bean Café

& asked her how she was

her hair blazed crazy

& her fingers grew brittle

& she said she just didn’t believe

in the whole thing anymore

& I said I guessed things

weren’t so good then huh

& she said she was tired

of being the last clean towel

in the damn linen closet

& I just nodded like I understood

& she said making poems was worse

than shoveling shit in a chicken coop

the famous writers ignored you

wouldn’t help you with so much

as a fucking endorsement

& her work meant nothing to nobody

& failure surrounded her

came at her like a tidal wave

& was drowning her

& I said I knew how that was

& she said she doubted that

& she said she would believe

her number was up if she’d ever been

given a number in the 1^st place

which she hadn’t (been given)

& I said Sadie I’m sorry

how about I buy you a coffee

& she said yeah that would be fine

& while we drank it I noticed

her fingers     like dried vines

how they would snap off

if I took her hand

3.  JULY 2012

I can write love into this dark hotel,

talk of all that has been lived so far and

will be lived tomorrow & the tomorrow

after that.  The words, repetitive, strong,

deliberate as summer’s heat, might

stir this room into life—a kind of life—

open the blinds, turn the bed down with cool,

dreamy hands and kind gestures.  I can write

a doorway into this hotel’s bedroom

where warm stones have eyes & watch our entrance

& later, our exit.  The speechless Aspen

trees outside this hotel are waiting for

revolution and then resurrection. 

I can write purpose into them, put my

human mind into their deciduous mouths,

write madras shirts and sheets into these dark

beds. I can look into the dusk-covered sky

for some gift not like any other.  For

you, I say.  For you and no one else:  the

secret samba from this dark hotel to your eyes.

4. LAST POEM

It blew hard last night

and there was lightning

no thunder.  It rained. 

I looked out at all

that weather, saw my

years and my dreams drain

into the desert,

soaking the sand with

questions. Where did it go? 

The hoped-for peace of

nations, the release

of suffering from

all sentient beings,

the rails to snake our

sorry souls to Camp

Eden.  Where was it?

My face, wet, pillowed,

ached with ignorance.

Where did everything go?

***

Martina Reisz Newberry’s most recent book is LEARNING BY ROTE (Deerbrook Press).  She is also the author of WHAT WE CAN’T FORGIVE.  LATE NIGHT RADIO, PERHAPS YOU COULD BREATHE FOR ME. HUNGER, AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE:  POEMS 1996-2006, NOT UNTRUE & NOT UNKIND(Arabesques Press, Amari Hamadene, editor) and RUNNING LIKE A WOMAN WITH HER HAIR ON FIRE: Collected Poems (Red Hen Press). Ms. Newberry is the winner of i.e. magazine’s Editor’s Choice Poetry Chapbook Prize for 1998: AN APPARENT, APPROACHABLE LIGHT. She is the also the author of  LIMA BEANS AND CITY CHICKEN: MEMORIES OF THE OPEN HEARTH—a memoir of her father—published by E.P. Dutton and Co. in 1989. She has written four novels and several books of poetry, has been included in Ascent Aspirations first hard-copy Anthology, also in the anthology In The Company Of Women and has been widely published in literary magazines such as:  Ascent Aspirations, Bellingham Review, Blessed Are These Hands, Cape Rock, Connecticut Poetry Review, Cenacle, Counterpunch, Current Accounts, Divine Femme, Haight Ashbury, Iota,Istanbul Literary Review, Niche, Piedmont Literary Review, Southern Review of Poetry, Shot of Ink, Smiling Politely, Touchstone, Women's Work, Yet Another Small Magazine, and others.  Martina lives in Hollywood, California with her husband Brian and their best 4-legged pal, Charlie the Cat. 

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