THE POETS' NOOK

Celebrating Poets and Their Songs

By:

Susan Haley

Poetry Coordinator

For The Infinite Writer

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A tip of the pumpkin to you all as we enter the month of Color. Cool morning breezes will soon be invading the heat of our Florida summer, and a fresh vitality will wrap itself around our shoulders with a chill. I'm going to be traveling north when this edition of The Infinite Writer is released, so I may even see some frost on the colorful fruits of Fall in Pennsylvania's Amish farm country. I'll be attending the Infinity Writers Conference in Valley Forge and taking a side trip to New York City where I've been invited to do a presentation for Rainy Day People at New Voices Bookstore in the East Village. An early Christmas present for sure and I'm grateful. The guest poets will be carrying the page this month. I look forward to seeing you all again in November. Meanwhile, always keep an eye on life's rainbows! They ARE all around you if you will but see. I'm planning on Sidney K. Schoenwald in honor of our Editor In Chief who had to say good bye to a dear friend as he boarded his Rainbow to journey home to the stars.

Most of the poems we've shared here so far, have been of a more serious nature. I thought it was time to open a smiling October with a little of the light hearted. Iris Blankman is a dear lady I've had the good fortune to spend time with in my local Poetry group. She's always bubbly and a joy to be around. I've heard her read many a cute little sing-song poem and thought I'd share one here.

Iris grew up in Baltimore and became fascinated early on with live theater from both sides, as an avid patron and from the stage itself. Her participation in local productions opened a spectrum of make-believe, and it became a natural progression from acting out to writing about a "life that could be." Since her high school days Iris has been composing poetry for her own love of it. She has always had a rosy view of life and her poems are her way of pleasing herself and of sharing this with anyone interested. The humor that often is included in her writings is a mirror of her own personality; life is to be taken with a smile and a "let's have fun" attitude. So long as she breathes, she will write. It's who she is. Welcome to The Infinite Writer, Iris, with your songs of simplicity that bring a smile! She'd be happy to hear from you at Hiblank@aol.com

CROSSWORD PUZZLE

Jumbo size

lots of space

big blocks

easy to erase.

Read the clue

fill in a letter

add another word

what could be better.

And so it goes

till the very last clue

half have been erased

that's what you do.

But, oh what fun

to open your mind

clue after clue

your mind defined.

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We met Rabab Khan in September and her portfolio is so full, I'll share another for October. Rabab, you'll remember, is our International Poet. She resides in Islamabad, Pakistan where she teaches the English Language.

Are we Different?

                   The ones who won and
                   The ones who lost,
                   Can they be any different
                   from you and I?

                  Desire led them
                  as it leads us,
                  Greed moved them
                  as it moves us.

                  Are we different when we too
                  belong to those driven by
                  love, hate, right and wrong?

Rabab Khan

Raban’s work may be viewed on her Edit Red Writer Profile http://www.editred.com/rabableo

Linda Neckel White is a professional Performing Poet. She's appeared in many stage productions and recently had a role in an adaption of the Broadway Hit "The Vagina Monologues" at The Venice Little Theater here in Sarasota County. I originally met Linda when she was leading a local Poetry Group and I ventured out to share my own work for the first time. She still teases me about passing my turn for many go rounds before I would read. She was a tremendous support to me on my 'coming out' of seclusion. Now, I'm most fortunate to call her a personal friend. Her poetry is thought provoking and always conjurs intense personal interpretations. Her work is available on her CD "Journey Into A Poet's Mind" She can be contacted at Lgirll@msn.com

The Marionette

snip, snip

the puppet broke free

cutting the strings

from Gepetto's fingertips

snip, snip

he went rampant

became despondent

with the acknowledgement

of his power

he towered on tips

of splintered shoes

dried from not enough use

he's never walked on his

own accord before

never touched foot to

surface for more than

a minute

when string would

jerk knee up

bringing feet forward

in a frenzy

snip, snip

now the marionette is free

pirouetting on carved extremities

not meant for autonomous living

nor independent thinking

his speech is indiscernible

unable to hold attention

tongue split from the

formation of syllables

there he goes

snip, snip

the puppet is free

strings dragging behind him

if you cannot be a poet, be the poem...d.carradine

Thank you, Linda. I kind of feel like that Marionette right now in my new retirement from the day job.

And now for our closing, I'd like to introduce another new poet. Tom Atwell is another of the few brave male souls to contribute and I'm always glad to see that gender step forward. Real men do write poetry, I always say. [They eat Quiche, too.] Actually, it's amazing how many of our most famous Poetic Classics were written by men. Welcome Tom!

THE MIRROR

Pausing before the mirror,

Twins reflected by the glass.

Looking deep into our eyes,

Understanding comes to pass.

Transfixed, we watch,

Searching out the sameness in our gaze,

Every mystery exposed,

Upon the mirror's gaze.

Trapped within the mirror,

We show each image as alive.

Another world inside the mirror

Looks out into our own.

There upon reflection we see,

The person who is known.

Staring, we know that we are caught,

And, looking at each other,

Who is real . . .

Asks who is not.

Tom Atwell may be reached at TFABUPPS@aol.com

Thank you, Tom, for being one of the few gentleman poets to submit to The Infinite Writer. That's all for this month, my friends, and I wish you all godspeed and rainbows until we meet again . . . Susan

“Endings”

I can feel summer waning, a cooler dryness in the air.
Is another season ending, or is it going somewhere?

Has a summer that is over met an end that's dead?

Or simply wafted elsewhere, its warmth there to spread?

As the sun leaves the horizon into the edge of night,

Has it met its end forever, forever dead and gone from sight?

Will there again be morning light now that the sun has gone?

Will darkness now engulf me, or will a new beginning come?

Will another pink-hued dawn give birth to yet another day?

Or do the ends of setting suns forever stay away?

Do these tears of grief I feel rolling down my face

Mean the death of joy has come? The death of happiness?

Or are all endings circles that forever go around?

Is there really such a thing as endings dead and bound?

Does the death of one end give birth to new beginning?

Do battles lost birth battles won and loss give birth to winning?

When dead ends seem to loom ahead and walls begin to rise;

When purpose and direction lie in shadow before your eyes,

Never stand there lost! Look right, look left, look up or down.

And then you’ll see the jewels adorning every ending’s crown.

May You Always Have Rainbows . . .

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