We have some wonderful new poems from Madlyn Steinhart, Stephanie Sloane, Nicole Freezer Rubens, and Marjorie Levine. Carol Ostrow put her poem on video.

My Mouth is the Measure of My Sanity

~ Carol Ostrow, author of Poems from My Pandemic Pen

STORM

Wednesday:

It was a perfect storm

On a particular almost desolate highway.

The curves in the grounded road were often

Filled with traffic but on stormy days,

Sometimes not.

There was a sudden present on one day

One hard rainy day when water filled the air

In moments that gathered and pushed to

A new present with water and visible

Angled lightening that passed in the rear view.

One life, that on most stripped down days

Barely mattered to many or oddly even any,

Turned and that dusk was carved into memory.

On that day, it was a blurry remarkable

Occurrence that happened in almost

Darkness, when the grey ripples

Of thunder in the air parted and

Forced her to listen to nothing.

But she remembered,

She remembered… to slow down.

And then with no warning,

A rapid appearance startled.

And right, moving to left,

From one side to the other side

Two old bent strangers with

No umbrellas, but holding hands…

Crossed the road.

~Marjorie J. Levine, author of Road Trips

Healing

Mental Health is crying out for help.
Young, Old, and in between
Not our original intention but Poetry and other creative arts help
Read your reviews if you don’t concur
Let us start the healing because others need poetry
It helps many including this poet
A great gift that keeps giving in ways unimaginable

~Madlyn Epstein Steinhart, author of Put Your Boots on and Dance in the Rain

Two Priests Walk Into a Pizza Joint

May sound like the start of a joke

But it really happened.

Last night at the Four Bros

so dubbed by my niece

We noticed them as they entered

they did stand out

And declared it a blessing

We must have been there awhile

Because upon their exit, they stopped at our table

it pays to be open

A lively conversation ensued

Though we told them we were not of their persuasion

They offered us a blessing

yes, by all means yes,

you can’t have too many of those these days

Would you believe

That Father John had a Jewish music teacher

At seminary school?

hence the rousing rendition of Hava Nagila!

~ Stephanie Sloane, author of Dear Me

July 8, 2022

I saw a man bike by

in navy blue

fried egg socks

and now I’m craving eggs.

One quick look

and I’m gone

onto the next thing,

easily distracted.

My Instagram feed

makes me hungry

but does not make me want a pet

at all.

I am inspired by so much

and so little

on the streets beneath my feet

and the screens in my hand.

With the world rotating

to its completely upside down position,

I was ashamed to celebrate

the birth of our nation.

I am not sure I can amble on

to our star-spangled banner

with respect.

We are a mess of bullets and lies,

fire and climate catastrophe,

memorials and marches.

We will run out of fresh flowers

to lay beside our schools, churches and Main Streets.

We are a landscape of boiled border crossers.

We are the return of wire hangers.

Then there are more bullets flying

both aimed and random.

We are a very broken record,

I keep saying I will keep going

until I am the one shoved into the subway track

on the 6 line,

or the harsh metal ammo

finds my body.

Until then

I will go and do and fight.

But first, I’ll crack an egg

and watch the edges brown

and the bright yolk bubble

ever so perfectly

inside the burning hot pan.

~Nicole Freezer Rubens, author of “The Long Pause and the Short Breathe”