Stephen Kennedy

Stephen Kennedy has written song lyrics for several local rock bands and has his production company, Dream Shelter Music.  His Master's Thesis was titled "The Natural Religion of Walt Whitman."  Stephen contributed to college campus publications.  His work included:  "The Faces of (Philip) Roth," "Whitman, Individuation and Jung," "Chanting the Square Terrific - Whitman's Mandala," and "Archetypes, History and Literature."  He attended both Pepperdine University and San Francisco State University, and previously taught at Canada College and St. Mary's College of California.  He is currently a Regional Director for Saint Mary's College of California.

In his words:  Poetry is and will be the spiritual wild growth of human society.  All new and vital entries into our spiritual atmosphere will be from poetry.  Through poetry, cryptic links that tie our souls to this living experience are described and celebrated.  While one of the most open and flexible art forms in the world, poetry requires form and structure in order to persist as a piece of work over time.  Even the most personal stream of consciousness poetry needs to have coherent structure and pattern for it to become art.  The best poetry is both intensely personal and pervasively universal.  That is why we use rhythm, repetition, symbolism and structure.  All assist the reader and establish a relationship between author and audience.

Three poems from Stephen Kennedy:

LIGHT TOUCH

Light of a touch, touched by a light
That only exists when intentions are right.
Light that arrives like the thief of our night
Light that remains to our constant delight.

The touching that heals with gentle compassion
Is the touch that desires with heat and with passion.
The touch that is light entering all the dimensions
Is proof that there is more than constant sensations.

The touch is the fuel, the light is the fire,
The heat a reward of our human desire.
Light is the touch that reminds us to live
While time must return whatever we give

YOUNG BOY

What can a body believe? Does it take the whole spirit?
Those who make a study of love, without a lover, what do they know?

There is one, someone who knows, down by the shore
Watching sea birds feed on beached crabs and kelp.

Someday you will feed on nature's largesse, she is generous,
And I will be the bird beside you, longing for the day to unfold.

LIGHT ON DARK

Clusters of spirits surrounding the dark;
A poker gang in the ether, wildcards only.
They shake me by the ears and pin up my eyelids
Force me to see that they gamble for my thoughts
Only to use them at the beginning, for the ante up.

Jackie Jordan found her love for literature and poetry while attending Wahlert High School in Dubuque, Iowa where she grew up.  She graduated from Loras College with a major in Management Information System and a minor in English.  Currently, Jackie works as an infrastructure analyst in the Information Systems department at John Deere in Moline, IL.  She married in June, and lives with her husband in Bettendorf, Iowa. Jackie enjoys gardening, reading, and cooking authentic Indian food in her spare time.
 

In her words:
 

Writing poetry encourages us to share moments of life that have inspired us.  We can offer our feelings, experiences and perceptions to readers through our poetry.  By sharing these events and feelings with others, we build a sense of community and have an outlet to pour our thoughts.  Poetry can be dramatic by simply writing about common, everyday occurrences. Poetry, the song of the soul, allows us to paint with words and magnify what we may ordinarily miss.  We are creative at various times and poetic moments don't always happen when we want them to.  The most important lesson I have learned about poetry, is to capture that moment of inspiration and write it down before it escapes me.
 

Three Haiku by Jackie Jordan:
 

tassels
spring up . . .
receiving the diplomas
 
 

first golden leaf
lost
on a littered street
 
 

morning coffee
catching
my cold
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(C) 2000 Sol Magazine
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Award winning poet Janet Parker has published several books, including: "Forever Yours, Janet"; "Poems To Remember"; "Poems To Share."  She was recently awarded a prize for her book, "Among The Leaves," in the CAMEO Chapbook Contest.  Her work has appeared in The Roswell Literary Review; The Raintree Literary Review; Mid-West Poetry Journal; and Tucumcari Literary Review.
 

Janet Parker was a Naval Chief Petty Officer.  She attended Assumption College, is a graduate of the Chicago Institute of Graphoanalysis.  She is a retiree of the school system.  Janet is also a short story writer, and formerly a feature story writer for The Montachusett Review,  She lives in a small town in Central Massachusetts with her husband, Dr. Fletcher L. Parker.  They founded Poets' Gathering, an on-going poetry workshop, for the enrichment of local poets.
 

In her words:
 

When writing poetry, know when to stop.  A poet needs to express thoughts in concise, tight language.  Accessible poetry is very important.  The reader does not want to have to guess what the poet is saying.  This does not mean that poetry should not be descriptive, or the poet stingy with words.  It does mean a poet should try to chose words and forms based on poems being created.  It is also important to title poems with something to suggest the contents without "giving away the plot" too soon.
 

Writing good poetry is a gift.  It comes from the soul.  It is felt and
it is meant to be shared. If one reader can receive enlistment, joy, or relate to your poem, you have written a good poem.
 

Three poems from Janet Parker:
 

ENDLESS ROUND
 

I walk in silence past the sprouting fern,
see flowers waiting patiently their turn,
feel yet the essence of another spring,
to fill the air with sweet perfume again.
Berries still closed within their sealed-tight pods,
wait the signal of mother nature's nod,
the butterfly emerges carefully,
responds to its new beauty gracefully.
The gentle acts of nature's steady hand,
run smoother than the finest clock of man,
I marvel at the way the seasons blend
without beginning; and without an end.
Would I, if I were given any voice,
give up the menacing free will of choice?
 

Poet's Comments:  I enjoy writing heroic couplets.  In this one, I  express delight in the way the seasons merge.
 

FALL'S ARRIVAL
 

She comes vibrant,
sophisticated, confidant
of her beguiling charms -
more promises than
she can keep,
she leaves in dull browns,
frayed from overexposure,
scatters her remains
to an embracing ground.
 

Poet's Comments:  This was written to greet the beauty of fall and turned wistful as I remembered what a short time she remains colorful and beautiful.
 

INTERNET FRIENDS
 

Our world fills with
faceless friends,
known only by their words
upon our screens.
Our hearts entwined
before we hear them speak -
a bond of friendship
shared beyond the miles
of an extended reach -
our souls bared of secrets
in what seems a sacred place,
for surely here they cannot be scathed
by the touch of a callous world.
 

Poet's Comments:  A sign of the times.  Amazing how a bond of friendship can grow with people you have yet to meet.

Poet and screenwriter, Warner Conarton's work has been published in various newspapers and magazines including Sunscripts, Phoenix,  JDM (John D. MacDonald) Bibliophile, and Sol Magazine.  His play, "The Shooter," was produced in 1999 and performed at Tampa's Falk Theater by Stage/Works.

Moderator for Lansing Writers in Lansing, MI, for 4 years in the early 50's, Warner had his first stage play produced in 1953 at MSU, and a play produced live on TV in 1957.  He was editor of both The Mancelona Herald, and Body, Mind and Spirit Magazine of Tampa Bay.  Warner is currently Copy Editor of JDM Bibliophile, the oldest periodical published in this country concerned with a single writer.

Born on Halloween, 1930, Warner wrote his first major poem at the age of five.  He and his wife, two dogs and a cat, reside in the lovely hills north of Tampa, Florida.

In his words:

Poetry comes from a different part of the brain than most other stuff.  I feel that in order for poetry to be good, it must also enter back into that same part of the brain of those reading or hearing it.

I know when that part of me is operating or captured because it feels right.  It is a sort of high or buzz that allows one to understand without necessarily understanding.  A poem that manages to cross from one poetic mind to another often provides a sense of authorship by the recipient.

Some music makes you tap your foot. Good poetry makes you nod your head (inside) as you read along, while it's soaking in.  It is not always pleasant, but it's always pervasive.

Poems by Warner Conarton:
==========
Teen Dance
==========
I chewed a fresh stick
of gum
so I'd have minty breath
when I asked you
to dance

We danced
only once
in three evenings
But, I chewed
many, many,
sticks of
gum...

getting ready.
==========
             My Tree

    I loved this tree with sour
bark, climbed and carved it as a
little boy, learned each limb and
  leaf and swore to it,  I swore-
  When I'm a man, I'll be back to
       climb and carve again.
             -but we
              moved
              away,
            and later
        the tree was gone.
==========
Reflections

Remembering carnival mirrors before,
I realize I'd peered then, deep into myself
through convoluted surfaces.

Tall in the one, I was, gaunt, intimidating
and towering, yet idiotic.
Not far from truth, I thought,
sometimes.

And in that other- captured squat,
sordid and despicable me.
Yes, that too.

But in both compressed, bulging out at
ends or sides, bulging out
with personal dread -
of others' viewpoint.

Lately, I avoid such carnivals,
do not ride life's carrousel
round and round and round
past cruel mirrors.

When I seek reflection, I look
with trust absolute, deep
into your kind and
loving eyes.

---

Michael Cooper

Award winning poet, Michael Cooper is (and has been the last 20 years) a Human Resource Director.  He has a Master's Degree in Public Administration from California State University at Stanislaus.  He is also a volunteer Mediator with Placer Dispute Resolution Services.

Michael is also a part-time instructor through at several Junior Colleges.  Besides loving poetry, his interests include horseback riding,  tennis and golf, working in stained glass, and lots and lots of  reading.  His is a photographer whose work has appeared in the Photography West exhibit at LA museum.

Michael lives in Cool, California, where he has a Bay Arab gelding named Clancy.

In his words:  When writing poetry, keep with the truth.  I don't mean "factual truths."  I refer to the truth that is you, things that resonate within you, as broad and as multifaceted as each individual.  There are many forms and techniques in poetry and everyone should try their hand at all of them.  But even when mastered, all the techniques and forms do not make for good poetry.  Write about what you dream of and know.  Writing helps you become a better writer and a better person, but only if you write your truth, no matter how bitter or sad, happy or frivolous it might seem.  It is in writing the truth that we emerge as a larger, more knowledgeable spirit and come to know ourselves and our world and others better.

Three poems from Michael Cooper:

BLUE

How many shades of blue
do we see in a day
certainly rising early
increases the number several fold
In the hour surrounding sunrise
it is easy to lose count

Night black blue
grows ever lighter
so many hues,
     they have not been named
and if by chance or circumstance
a cloud or two pass through
     as clouds are wont to do
the sky
        and our lives
are never quite the same

When evening comes
as evening always does
we begin the count once more
but the rose and gold distract us
and the final royal purple
draws our eye and heart away
lifelight passes,
       into the nameless night
till the coming again of day
 

THE NIGHT, WARM AND SILENT

The night, offers no refuge
from the thoughts
that were drowned in the myriad
of sights and sounds
that were today
Only the moon
offers company with an
imperfect reflection of the day
It's not the same moon
we saw last night you know
another day is etched on its face
another wrinkle lines its forehead
It smiled last night
now it frowns
Like you did today

MEMORIES

I feel the need to go
to be some other place
to be some other time
Perhaps memories
should stay memories
and not walk through doors
to surprise old friends and lovers

When you walked in
all the memories came too
with all the pain
only those memories can bring

No, the memories are not bad
they are so good
it hurts
that memories they must be
a past much rosier than today
makes tomorrow
grey uncertainty

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(C) 2000 Sol Magazine