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MARCH'S FEATURES

A Good Read: Delmore Schwartz: The Life of an American Poet", a book review by Craig Tigerman, Editor-in-Chief.

Glossary: When 'Perfect' is 'Full' it's Rhyme," by Betty Ann Whitney, Poetry Editor.

ON THE WEB:  "Homegrown and Heartfelt," a web review, by Craig Tigerman, Editor-in-Chief.

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CONTENTS

• LETTERS
• SAD NEWS
• BLOSSOMS IN THE SNOW
• WARM & WELCOMING
• THE FIRST TIME
• BEST POEM OF MARCH

AWARDS

Persistence

Puncturing their icy blankets,
Premature jonquil blooms
Pierce the white monotony,
Paint snowscapes with dots of possibility,
Patches of yellow bright enough to
Push winter deep beneath
Palettes of melted memories.

Roy Schwartzman, Maryville, MO, USA

SECOND PLACE - Winner of a $15 electronic book gift certificate.

Harbinger

How tenaciously snow lingers,
Hanging onto boughs,
Hovering over eaves,
Hushed against hoary fences; but
Hyacinths burst forth in sweet victory --
Herald faith robed in spring. Again,
Hope comes from within!

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA

THIRD PLACE - Winner of a $10 electronic book gift certificate.

Tantamount

Tulips bring thoughts of
Two lips meeting in Spring.
The promise of love, of passion;
This is what keeps me going.
There, while snow is still aground,
Those peeking buds
Throw my mind months ahead.

Claiborne Walsh, Montrose, AL, USA

HONORABLE MENTION

Yellow

Years ago my mother planted the bulbs
Yearning upward they herald spring
Yard gladdened by sun-bright blossoms
Yet this year the weather is manic
Yields fat flakes on fragile flowers
Yellow tubes trumpet joy, undefeated
Yes!  The legacy of daffodils lives on

Mary E. Gray, Newport News, VA, USA

HONORABLE MENTION

Harbingers

Hyacinth blue
Hugging the snow,
Happily smiles
Here from the cold.
How many times
Have we passed here this winter?
Hidden in ice, lay the secret of spring.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

EDITORS' CHOICE

Lagniappe

Lily of the valley with its
Little bell flowers dangling
Like small heads bowed for prayer
Lifts my housebound spirit as no other
Late-blooming, winter-hardy blossom can
Last to leave earth's snowy embrace, we
Lament its passing until again called forth

SJ Baldock, Lancaster TX

Crossed

Confusing, when the ground
covered by snow on Palm Sunday.
Crocus on the way out, do not care.
Camellias consider the source; but worry
camas will bloom white instead of blue.
Calla lilies withdraw behind
crosses carved of wild cherry.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA

Siblings

Surely Spring mistook the
Signs of longer days.
Southern winds kissing Winter's cheek.
Singing birds flirting and flitting.
Sun filled skies sketching branches with buds.
Scolded by Winter's reproof she tucks
Snow Bonnets upon her children's crowns.

Ron Blanton, Alpharetta, GA, USA

Tapestry

There upon a frozen earth
Three tiny purple heads emerge,
Thirsting for spring's life anew
Threaded delicately amid the snow.
They lick away a place to grow,
These the noble birthed in power
The tiny, crocus mighty flower.

Linda Louise Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA

Narcissism

Narcissus
Never think twice about
Nudging her
Nose into thin ice to
Nod in the snow and cold
North winds knowing that
Nice compliments will shower her.

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

Ephemera

Easter's hopeful blooms
Ease through belated snow,
Each stem, leaf and petal
Etched as on white canvas,
Eager to impress, perhaps
Earn a place of
Ephemeral permanence.

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, Canada

Surprise

Seasons
Seem out of
Sync when
Scillas
Sprout in winter warm
Spells and blossom in
Showers of snow

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA

Life

Lackadaisically I move along
Love has left me
Lairs await me on every turn
Liars greet me with
leisurely lecherous smiles
looking for a way to
light my world

Sharen Marie Hansen, Oshkosh, WI, USA

Heralding

Hidden beneath the
Hard packed ice, royal buds
Hearken to life.
Harrowing through winter's
Harsh freeze
Hyacinth's regal bells
Hail spring.

Kathy Kehrli, Factoryville, PA, USA

Silent

Scarlet bells glow in
Sierra Nevada snow drifts,
Shooting up like asparagus
Standing beneath the pines.
Snow plants, sentinels of loneliness
Stiffly avoiding fragrance, coldly watching
Spring arrive.

Deborah P. Kolodji, Temple City, CA, USA

Tulips

Tiny bulbs planted last fall, spawning
Twenty-four red and green
Tulips near the juniper;
Trying to break through snow and ice
To greet, with sunkist hues,
Towns-folk passers-by,
Tip-toers of the snow-bound blooms.

Tanya Larson, Kamloops, BC, Canada

Same

Snow was one of her favorite things.
So were flowers, so I planted
Sun flowers around her grave.
Surprise, surprise,
Sprouting in the dead of winter.
Smiling up at me, as I cleared some snow to
Sit and talk to her, I see she still loves both.

Alma Philbert Linton, LaSalle, PQ, Canada

Preview

Peeking from beneath a fresh
peak of snow
purple crocus
push their way above the ground
perhaps ill-advised
performing to
promises of an early spring.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA

Petal Pushers

Probing, prying, prodding earth
Petals push and peek
Prematurely popping out
Petals shrink and squeak
Poor, poor petals peeking out
Proving groundhog wrong
Patriotic peonies, beneath a winter storm.

Lynne Remick, Nesconset, NY, USA

Opuntia

Our prolific prickly pear
Occasionally finds its
Oval viridian foliage, its
Oblong floras amarillas, so proud and
Optomistic in early March,
Obscured by unexpected snowfall as Winter's
Ogre grudgingly gives ground to Spring.

John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Calendric

Confused young bulbs,
Carefully planted in fall
Cautiously peep out and
Create colorful blooms.
Callously crushed by
Cold white blanket.
Calendar of winter
Collaborate with nature.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA

Jubilee

January lay low and teased with
June like breeze.
Jonquil jumped forth
Just as winter reemerged.
Jogging past, I pause to savor,
Jot a mental note and shout
Joy! in the beholding.

Judith Schiele, Brandon, MS, USA

Illusive

Ill-timed, my rising. Shaking,
I rid myself of dreams, scurrying,
Ignoring the perk of coffee,
Imagining more of yesterday, pessimistically
If’ing my way through the door,
Innocently looking for winter’s last muddy dreariness.
Illusionary finding, first beautiful blossom of spring...

Barbara G. Scroggins, Williston, VT, USA

Cold Front

Chilled wind, my unexpected
caller from the bitter North
creased the delicate folds of
crocus in its
crystalline fury
ceasing spring's early
celebration.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, Texas, USA

Dancing

Dreary days pass
Dreamily, white snow
Dropping, drifting onto
Daffodils; golden sentinels
Dancing winter away;
Distinct signs of hope to
Dying seasons.

Gillian Wilkinson, Saxonwold, South Africa

Daffodils

Delaying remnants of snow can not
Dormant your root
Driven up by Mother Nature’s
Desire to
Decorate her earth,
Dutifully you climb up
Delighting all with your peaks of green.

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, Canada

Back to contents
 

AWARDS

TransCanada Moon

Moon over small-town Canada and drawn-out
mustard fields as far as the windshield sweeps,
on this sun-yawn-to-stretch morning, holds my
sleep-starved gaze like a transcendental tractor-beam;
as the moon plays cat-and-mouse with the storm clouds
rolling in over the highest peaks of the heavens-bound
TransCanada Highway; And the world seems asleep
but for the big rig passing on the left and the smiling
crescent moon at dawn.

Tanya Larson, Kamloops, BC, Canada

Dreamscape

Just as evening paints the sky
with brilliant crimson's fiery glow,
the warmth of blankets spread upon
my world entices me
to sleep in sweet abandon there,
hair spread upon the feathery quiet.
I slip into a purple shroud of dreams,
the sun at dusk convincing me
beyond a shadow of a doubt --
all is well.

Linda Louise Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA

True

Never a harsh word would you say.
Never a twisted brow my way.
Happy to greet me with open arms.
You do not play games or offer worldly charms.
Your face so full of light.
Your mind quick and bright.
Happily I can remember your face.
Delightful and full of grace.
Are my memories hurtful? Never.
There resides your smile forever.

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, Canada

Why We Didn't Fly the New Kite

Sand underfoot,
warm grains to burrow into
until our feet reach the wet,
cooled to dampen the heat
of the ocean at noon.
Winds still cool from morning,
rhythmic music of surf
sun on our bare heads,
our feet dug deep into sand,
we sleep through noon at the ocean.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA

A winter evening's stroll on the bayfront

Only clouds recall the sun at dusk;
its warmth is a pink-orange memory now.
A brisk breeze riffles the tides’ flowing rush.
In the east, the evening star already shows.
Swooping low, a honking heron calls.
I hear a splash and glimpse a flash of silver as twilight falls.

Mike Gregory, Corpus Christi, TX, USA

Promise

The sun at dusk
still warm from noon
hints of a new day,
a covenant between we two
that, although this day is spent,
another day waits
beyond that golden streak
where the sun just
left the sky.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA

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Sky Walker

The moon at dawn - almost full
Lends me a warm pool of light
To gather the morning papers.
She follows old footprints
On her journey across the sky.

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

Lemon Sky

The sun at dusk washes
Over the even sky,
One night a cosmic fire
Flashing red and orange,
Calling fresh warriors to
Dreams of glory, the next
Night turned palest yellow,
Soft as tapwater lemonade
And long summer days
Without end in young eyes.

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, Canada

Grand Canyon Connection

As the sun at dusk brushes canyon walls with crimson
Smiles steal across chiselled faces of the Indians leaning on wind
sculptured pines
Blasts of warmth wash over them
As ancestors toast this daily ritual

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA

Jasper

Your smile forever
keeps me alive
always hoping
loving and living
Always wanting to be more
never reaching the goal
of who I am to be
But I am happy
because your smile forever
lights my way

Sharen Marie Hansen, Oshkosh, WI, USA

Aries

A miniature moist mouth
Opens up to reveal it
A spacious shiny set
Are the teeth that sit inside
A tiny tool that travels to the tip
Opens up the set of teeth
A heartfelt hint of hunger
Are the feelings of my lips
A love like the lust of living
Opens up your smile forever

Audrey Hardy, Fullerton, CA, USA

Decrescendo

An orb of light,
A lunar glow
That fades away
As darkness slows.

The moon at dawn,
A bathing ray
That dimly wanes
To sunlight's blaze.

Kathy Kehrli, Factoryville, PA, USA

Morning Moments

Waking
the moon at dawn
watching its sideways smile
vanish as the rest of my world
rises.

Deborah P. Kolodji, Temple City, CA, USA

Soup

Your smile forever taking shape,
through chattering dentures.
As trembling hands clasped,
like in a thankful prayer,
the cup of soup extended.
While my caring hands dabbed a napkin,
to your running nose.
You poor, old, cold, soul.
As you wandered from the bitter streets,
to the shelter, I'll forever, remember.

Alma Philbert Linton, LaSalle, Quebec, Canada

Silent Sentinel

I awaken,
Wipe the sandman's
Dust from sleepy eyes.
I run to my window,
And look up to see,
The moon at dawn,
Still watching over me
From its throne
Above the horizon,
And I smile.

Lynne Remick, Nesconset, NY, USA

Just Before Dawn

In that limbo-land, that
transitory season of just
a few days before our winter's
half-hearted attempts at cold
yield to searing, summer heat,
the sad, silvery, scimitar
smile of the moon at dawn refracts
through the west wing skylight, spreads
its faint spectrum where we sleep,
where it's always warm.

John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Color Mystery

Blinding orange orb
suspended in the western sky;
the sun at dusk.
Studied by astronomers for centuries
and awed by common folk today.
We squint our eyes at
the fiery ball descending
on its celestial path
knowing that in a few short hours
the sky turns pitch black.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA

Grin

1200 miles away,
I used to dream of a day
When I would wake each morning
Feeling your amazing grin heat the room we slept in.
Now, I feel it warm me every morning, every night,
Each time our eyes meet across dinner or breakfast…
Today, I dream serenely, rising to smiles
wrapped firmly round, strong as angel’s wings.
I know that I have found my heaven
Wrapped warmly in your smile forever.

Barbara G. Scroggins, Williston, Vermont U.S.A.

Passage

The moon at dawn a reminder to me
The passage of time--this desert of time--
With me without you.
Thirteen full moons--my lucky number--
Surrender my sentence,
Return me to you,
And warm reunion's impassioned embrace--
Forever then viewed
By the lonely passage
Of each dawning moon.

Craig Soderquist, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

Morning Twilight

The sky glows orange and gold.
The sun’s eyelash peers from the edge of the world,
The first hint of warmth in the cold.
Venus shines in the east,
A stubborn star hangs in the sky to the west,
And beneath that star, framed by a morning bird’s song,
Smiles a golden globe,
A globe cold in the sky, yet warm in the heart,
The moon at dawn.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

The Open Curtain

A mind fogged by sleep
And worldly worries,
Is hazed and heavy;
The curtain of the mind
Billows in the darkness
And softly, silently
The silver, shifting light
Of the moon at dawn
Threads sane solutions
Into the coming day.

Gillian Wilkinson, Saxonwold, South Africa

Back to contents
 

AWARDS

Grandmother's

The first time I can remember
we stood together at your kitchen sink
and I learned of teaspoons and tablespoons.

The first time I hated your old stories
I was a teen and heard them with my friends
for the ten-thousandth time.

The first time I truly understood loss
was beside the casket, when I told
those stories for you, one final time.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

Invisible Wind

After the nursery rhyme era of my life
the first poem I remember
is "Who Has Seen the Wind?"

On the prairie where I grew up
the wind blew whimsical gusts all time--
night or day without ceasing.

As a child, I wanted to see the wind
described in that first exquisite poem.
Now those lines recall a happy time of youth.

Roberta Pipes Bowman, Fort Worth, TX

Flying Away from the Nest

The first time I drove
my mother's 1964 Ford Falcon,
I thought I was ready to fly and be on my own.

When you were born, I was the first
to touch you in your incubator nest,
your tiny little fists curling around my finger.

Now, it's your turn to learn to drive
my 1994 Olds Achieva, I hide tears
for the day you fly away, leaving me alone.

Deborah P. Kolodji, Temple City, CA, USA

An Abused Child

First to be yelled at
First to get spanked
Firstborn of family was of first times as these

First to start school, thus
First to go to the principal's office --
First to try to explain the bold, black bruises

First to talk back, likewise
First to rebel
First to attempt suicide; then first to succeed

SJ Baldock, Lancaster TX, USA

Hands

Dinner date, white patent shoes
Tied for the first time by my hands.
"Hey Grandpa, did you hear my news?"

Wrinkled hands placed 'cross your chest,
I prayed they'd move, just one last breath,
But Grandpa, it was time to rest.

Life's little gifts, its precious sands,
Time tinges us with joy and grief
Then swiftly shifts its hands.

Kathy Kehrli, Factoryville, PA, USA

Generations

The first smile knocked me off my feet,
though you did not smile my way;
then you laughed.

Her first smile stole my heart,
though she was too young to know me;
then she cried.

After so many years, you still sweep me away,
your gift to me still wraps me round her finger,
and her gift to us smiles like the first.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA

Life Journeys

Miles melted away as the bus roared
through mountains then passed fields,
into a new town that first time.

Time became the enemy, advancing age
visible now upon my once youthful face.
If only we'd met years ago.

But friendship turned a blind eye, seeing
only hearts and souls between them.
First women, friends, sisters of the soul.

Linda Louise Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA

Deep Breathing

I took my first breath in a hurry, deeply
Impatient to be born, anxious to get started,
Then measured time at my own slow pace.

My first taste of freedom became a bitter pill
Washed down by backseat beer.  I ignored time
And held my breath during confrontations.

Time's a little faster now, demanding more yet
Giving less, and drawing on that first deep
Breath to feed the last, long, slow exhale.

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, Canada

Wipe Out

Salty slaps against my face --
I rode his board with first-time grace.
I didn't know we had to race back in!

Challenges of form and theme
first made me gasp, then made me dream.
I have to say, it didn't seem I'd win.

Sitting on the beach alone,
I wiggled toes in sand and foam --
Then took the time to trace my poem again.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA

I know not of a memory without you

My first born, she brought me joy
The same amount as my first boy
Because they were with my first love

My childish ways had come to cease
The day I signed my first lease
Which happened to me with my first love

My cooking seemed like such a big deal
The time my first lasagna was the meal
Because I was making it for my first love

Audrey Hardy, Fullerton, CA, USA

Mixed Emotions

The first time I auditioned for the glee club
the teacher shook her head no
I was devastated.

I was the first one my friend told
that she had been accepted
we celebrated her joy with a banana split.

She had assumed I had been accepted
as my best friend she did not join
for the first time I learned the value of a true friend.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA

Love in Three Scenes

The first time you drove me in your car,
It wasn't for a soda, or a stolen kiss, but
To laugh beside you at a "Jerky Boy" movie.

You first put my hand in yours, so softly,
So nonchalantly, while we were sitting, side
By side, watching "Legends of the Fall."

On that first Valentine's Day, just three
weeks after our very first card ride, you
gave me your heart. And it's still mine.

Lynne Remick, Nesconset, NY, USA

Life Flight

When I was ten and first sent away
to school, I flew alone, far from home,
on wings as yet untested.

Another time I flew away
to Greece and Spain, on tested
wings of a silver plane.

Yet never did I fly so free
until the day we first flew away
on moonlit wings, above a silver plain.

John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Thrills and More Thrills

Dear sister, I remember the time
Mother gave birth to you.
I was thrilled to be a big sister.

Two years ago, you gave birth
to your son, my only nephew.
It was the first time I became an aunt.

I watch your son and remember
The time you were little and all the firsts.
I'm thrilled at the second chance.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA

Messy Erasure

First trip to the Appalachians:
heard you could see five states from Lookout Mountain.
No dotted border lines, no proof.  Demanded refund.

First all-nighter, no surrender to sleep.
Good-night kisses only drowsy imprints
of clumsy closure, fizzled reassurance.

Last time I hit the backspace key
backpedaled into illusions of clean slates,
faint traces of regret the signature of adventure.

Roy Schwartzman, Maryville, MO, USA

Learning to Learn

First day at school,
Shy yet brimming with excitement.
Through good times and bad, I would learn confidence.

First year at college,
Free yet feeling lost.
Through independence, I would learn balance.

First time on my own,
A graduate student, yet a frightened child.
Through each new experience, I would learn maturity.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

Path of Time

First we fell in love, despite all odds.
Against an angry sea we overcame
We persevered until you wore black and I in white.

Time travelled on, two eventually turned three.
Our love grew wings and solidified into a new form.
The house we share mutiplied in laughter.

First there was glee, which transformed to tears.
Three became two, one despairing night
The shape of our love has flown away forever.

Venus Tadrzak, Lakewood, OH, USA

The Ultimate Happiness

First Lady Mrs. Time pronounced out loud,
"You should throw down from a designated cliff
all your worries, problems, doubts.

"But, first, you'll gather them, grade and scale,
last time you can indulge yourselves with grief,
then you should collect all tears in one huge pail."

"Oh, genius, Mrs. Time, like a working horse, wearing blinders,
and being unable to look and fool around,
we'll be happy and nothing will ever confuse our mind."

Natalia Zaretsky, Wharton, NJ, USA

Back to contents

Grandmother's

The first time I can remember
we stood together at your kitchen sink
and I learned of teaspoons and tablespoons.

The first time I hated your old stories
I was a teen and heard them with my friends
for the ten-thousandth time.

The first time I truly understood loss
was beside the casket, when I told
those stories for you, one final time.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

There is no immediate prize associated with a poem having been picked as the Best Poem of a particular month, only the knowledge that our editors picked it over all the other prize winners of that month.  However, all poems chosen for BEST POEM of each month in the year 2002 will be automatically entered in the BEST POEM OF THE YEAR 2002 competition, voted on by Sol Magazine Members at the end of the year.  The winners of that contest will be awarded prizes and will be invited to enter Sol Magazine's Poet Laureate 2003 Competition.

Sol Magazine will mail no book prizes to poets outside the United States of America.  Electronic book gift certificates will be substituted.  No exceptions.
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E-mail us at:  Sol.Magazine@prodigy.net
 

Note: We choose poets for our interviews from among our membership.  On occasion we consider other poets, usually from recommendations we receive from other editors.  We are not an editing service, a print magazine, a vanity press, or a bulletin board.  Not every entry will be published, nor will every entry be commented upon.  We review only poetry sent by Sol Magazine members in response to open Sol Magazine contests.

All questions about any topic, including membership, except for the following exceptions, should be sent directly to Mary Margaret Carlisle, Managing Editor:   Sol.Magazine@prodigy.net

Have a question about our webpages?
Write to Leo Waltz, Web Manager:  Leo.Waltz@sol-magazine.com

Want your website considered for review?
Write to Craig Tigerman, Editor-in-Chief: craig@tigerman.org

Have a form or glossary item you wish us to use?
Write to Betty Ann Whitney, Poetry Editor: Sol.Editor@prodigy.net

Wish to be interviewed?  If you are not a member, write to Mary Margaret Carlisle, Managing Editor:  Sol.Editor@prodigy.net

If you wish to be interviewed and are a member, write to Paula Marie Bentley, Features Editor: Sol.Editor@prodigy.net
============
All poetry remains the property of the poet, except Sol Magazine reserves the right to publish all poems (once) at a future date, and/or to post them to a web page.  NONE may be reproduced without permission of Sol Magazine.  Electronic forwarding is permitted as long as no portion of this magazine is changed and all credits are given.
 
 

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