Note that young poets are welcome to become members and enter our contests. However, poets under the age of eighteen are required to first have parental permission, which means the parents must write us.  If we do not receive a letter from a parent, we assume any person applying for membership is over the age of eighteen.

Guidelines and submission requirements are posted at:
http://sol-magazine-projects.org/prodigy/sol.magazine/rqmts.htm

We just discovered a fine review of "Words Elude Me...", selected poems by Sol's Features Editor Paula Bentley writing under her pen name of Paula M. White. (1stBooks, 2000)  Look for the review at http://www.poeticvoices.com/0107White.html

Information on how to order Paula's book is included there and in our Books & Chapbooks feature.

Have a poetry book you'd like to recommend to others?  Sol's staff invites you to submit names of poetry books you have recently read.  If you include some comments about the book, all the better!  Write to Craig Tigerman, Editor-in-Chief: craig@tigerman.org.
============

APRIL'S FEATURES

• *GLOSSARY: "Common Talk," by Betty Ann Whitney, Poetry Editor
• *ON THE WEB: "A Professionally Acclaimed E-Zine," a review of Poetic Voices, by Craig Tigerman, Editor-in-Chief
• *POETRY WORKS:  "The Artist Cries Foul," by Ron Blanton, Guest Editor
• *SPOTLIGHT:  "Our Own Evolution," - An Interview of Claiborne Schley Walsh, by Paula Marie Bentley, Features Editor
• *WELCOME:  New Sol Magazine Members

 

 

* The above features are on separate web pages from this issue and may also be accessed directly from this month's features list on our main page. The following features are links within this page.
 

• LETTERS
• GARDENER:  ENERGY AND IMAGERY
• POET'S CHOICE
• HIDDEN CONTEST: TECHNO-COLORS 4 X 2's (or 2 X 4's)
• BEST POEM OF APRIL:  Restoration

Awards:
=========
FIRST PLACE - WINNER OF A $10.00 BOOK ELECTRONIC GIFT CERTIFICATE
 

Restoration

Unexpected early Spring frosts were not killers - but
mean enough; burned the bougainvillea brown, allamanda and
hibiscus bare to the ground. We're past it now. The warm air
rustles and rattles among the remnants of ginger fronds. I move
methodically, twig to branch to trunk, nicking the bark with a
thumbnail - finding the green. Gardener, groundskeeper, grateful
to be part of the equation. As I prune, I watch the sunlight, bracketed
by its companions in chiaroscuro, track across the empty beds. I
plan next week's planting - hibiscus here, impatiens there.
Their colors bloom in my mind as I stand to stretch my back.
The old yardman at the big house next door sees me
across the fence.
"You know, I ustacud chop cotton all day," he says. He smiles
and bends to his work, disappearing
behind the fence.

John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Finding Faith

There is a whisperwind moving my hair this morning
carried on the early sunlight air of a waking earth.
"Release me." it begs, "turn me up." Glove-enclosed
fingers wrapped around a spade handle fumble to seek
then find the smell of good soil unsecreted,
a rich, hardy scent wafted and teased to reach up;
lent to let nostrils know it sustains new life.
Soiled and moist-kneed jeans lend such quiet
reverence to this garden of uncomfortable position,
solemn belief and promised bloom, the maker of
which smiles in reverie of past seasons.
The soil turned, and tiny, little seedspecks of hope
strewn and covered, a prayer is said for the truest
Gardener to smile broadly and weep just enough
to strengthen and grow these promises of continuum.

Claiborne S. Walsh, Montrose, AL, USA

Seed Catalogues

Thirty seeds to a package
and I must plant every one
though I tire of zucchini bread,
pester my friends until they hide,
and have logs enough to build a cabin.
One-hundred plants if I grow my own,
each the gardener's very special child.
I'll need triple the lawn,
new pressure-cooker and dozens of jars
to save the taste of every sun-filled tomato.
As I bask in spring's warm air,
I mark my new Burpee and dream
of a garden it takes eight days to hoe
even though I barely have room
for one container of strawberries.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA

The Art

I labor beneath sunlight,
its life giving warmth bathing me
and in return,
I offer homage to this miracle
of life and plant embryos,
bejeweled in their rising,
who dance on air
as one season turns softly
to another.
I am the gardener --
the chosen one, perfuming winds
that convey promises
of spring to neighboring towns.

Linda L. Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA

I wasn't good at gardening then ...
I planted a package of radish seeds
In dry, crusted sand and thought
The sun and rain would do the work for me
I wasn't even impressed to see
A handful of vigilant radish tops
Lightly rustled by sweltering summer air
-- Such is the blissful ignorance of youth ...
Now I know about deciduous shrubs,
Annuals, perennials and the rules
Governing planting bulbs three widths deep
-- I know the rules
But I am no more successful ...
I still have these darn brown thumbs!

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Light-hearted long-view from a long-time gardener; rhymes and near-rhymes roll nicely off the tongue in pleasant cadence.  Gently self-ribbing reminds even serious gardeners to not take themselves too seriously.  Well done.
=============
Seeds Blossom

Smell the fresh, clean air
The day is upon us,
Planting seeds,
Watering them once again,
The sun is out,
To help nurture their growth,
A blessing in disguise,
Pretty displays will be seen by all,
Their beautiful art,
Vegetables will sprout everywhere,
Flowers will bloom,
Carpe diem.

Keith Burkholder, West Seneca, NY, USA
COMMENTS:  Reminds us to seize the day as more than seeds are blossoming.  Get out there and plant!
=============
This Spring

This spring sun and parrot tulips bloom,
red and white, under the River Birches,
yellow daffodils kneel down to worship
the purple-black pansies in the front garden,
the air carouses, earth splits, drives
from soft black to green, white rain
floods the thawing soil, retreats and falls
again. This season prays for sighs
at the start, begs sadness
for remembered kisses, nags the gardener
into some disconsolate refrain.
Spring urges, "Regret your losses."
I can’t oblige, come in from weeding glad
for Spring’s little ruin, grinning at my dirty hands.

Wendy Taylor Carlisle, Texarkana, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Good sweep of drama and motion with an intruiging progression to sadness and
then to joy.  Nicely written.  Lovely personifications, and pleasant descriptions with interesting phrasings make this a delight to read.  Memorable phrases such as "daffodils kneel down to worship" to "season prays for sighs" enliven this piece.
=============
Shiftless

My brother and I were reluctant gardeners
Devising lazy plans of pushing a hand-plow
Down rows of tomato, pulling weeds in the berry patch
For 10 minutes shifts under the searing sun
Followed by 15 minutes of sipping icy lemonade
Lounging under pecan trees while listening to streams
Of music from the radio.  Time dims our memories
Of sweating in humid Georgia air but we clearly
Recall eating luscious Better Boy Tomato sandwiches
Plus shortcake topped with plump red strawberries.
Now, we struggle to grow our own vegetable patches
Stopping to laugh at our lackadaisical gardening youth
And wonder at mother's inner strength that kept
Her from charging out to spur dawdling teenagers along.

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Amusing characterization of the organisms a mother works so hard to grow.  Joyous romp back through the childhood of the poet, a gentle memory recalled with humor and whimsy.
=============
Bending the Twig

Golden sunrays of morning play across my counterpane
Pulling me from deep slumber
Grabbing earth-stained jeans and worn sneakers
I rush along my garden path marked by
Blazing Stars
Winking Black-eyed Susans turn from smoldering Snapdragons
Lazy Azaleas burst into brilliant pink
Cypress Vines march over white arbor catching bee trade
Wisteria bursts into lavender cascades
Blueberries struggle toward maturity
Robin Redbreast fills mountain air with his call notes
I am a child again sharing the excitement of gardening
With Grandmother Ruddell
The stage is reset to plant the seed of continuity
As I introduce my lively granddaughters
To the tradition of gardeners

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  These intimate descriptions of flowering and fruiting plants capture the imagination, and carry the reader along in the trip back down Memory Lane.
=============
Position

In late afternoon I notice my arms
have freckles that were not there
this morning. I set my tea down to pull just one
weed. Bare hands again
pay with dirt ground in, but
there is an intimacy with earth and life
not felt with gloves. I notice
a change in the air, a grace
as the sun stoops to help me stand
from a gardener's bow. I feel like a queen.
Though my back aches and my legs are weak,
I survey my domain and smile. Tomorrow
I will rest. This time I mean it.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  We've all made that promise before...this time I mean it!  True-to-life characterization of the gardener in all of us.
=============
Rondeau Of Fair Complexion

Shoulders brown under sun; I kneel as if in prayer,
shimmer of heat on sidewalk stone, a simple shift of air
upon my neck dries a rivulet of sweat. My fingers curl
deftly into earth, while overhead a silent swirl
of butterflies glitter on the breeze without a care.

I, devoted gardener, creep along completely unaware
of what winds may blow beyond my lavish garden lair.
I begin to hum a tune I learned when just a girl,
shoulders brown under sun.
Undisturbed hours pass, which for me, is something rare.

Family, friends and household wait as if my presence there
was something of importance; let their protestations skirl
unheeded. The solace that I helped a single bloom unfurl
is vital to my growth, my peace of mind, and incidentally, where
shoulders brown under sun.

Maryann Hazen-Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA
COMMENTS:  Strong visual content.  True to the Rondo form, the rhyming phrase at the end of line one is repeated in the next-to-last line of each following stanza, adding contrast within the poem.  Lovely use of language, delicate and passionate in the same breath.
=============
Mother Earth

Perched upon a lawn chair, garden-manifesto sowing in my
bean; still lifeless trees seek the rays of sunshine's good
intent and aerated laundry whispers its secrets in the balmy
breeze of sanctity; and blooms sprout among the weeds
that lead my thoughts to spring, my sunglassless eyes
ascan, an eccentric mind asea, beneath the earth, where dark
soil lingers and toils with last year's composted waste; and
I mingle there, with the vegan earth, to ascertain its thought;
What will make me grow?  What will make me live?  And
then epiphany strikes and I see why I care for that yet un-
tended dead-sea garden yard; It lives and breathes of my
nurturing hands and in return yields the hope and growth
that winter stole from me; and for a season or two of dirt-
encrusted orifice and knees so cricked from stoop, I am one
with Mother Earth's bounty-yielding plan.

Tanya Larson, Kamloops, BC, Canada
COMENTS:  Personified characters juxtaposed throughout create a pleasant seasonal sensation of hope and growth.  Excellent phrasings throughout.
=============
One More Row

There blows a breeze
that tempts me out
to pluck the weeds
from my garden plot.
The sun burns hot,
the air is moist,
just one more row
to carefully sow
before I move into the shade.
This gardener loves
to work the soil,
to know this small space
will soon be graced by
flowers carefully arranged
to show their colors at their best.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA
COMMENTS:  Inner rhythm creates a level of interest and sound throughout.  Combines strong images and language for balance.
=============
Spring is Here, My Dear!

The calendar says that April's here.
Flowers and bulbs pop up with no fear.
The cold, moist air and snow disappear.
The bright sunlight brings springtime cheer.
Gardeners donning clothes so austere
have waited for this moment all year.
For six weeks their garden will be revered
and they'll accept compliments so sincere.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  Delightful result of organizing line by line.
=============
Heart Wise

It is said,
to be a gardener
one must know zones and species,
the difference in perennials and annuals,
proper placement of sun seekers and shade dwellers.
It is also said, the heart requires
high activity for fifteen minutes straight
to keep it fit. My heart needs only joy
from a garden for its fitness. I forget
the formality of names and location; just inhale
blossom fresh air, watch butterflies
amass a Joe-Pye weed, listen to a May breeze
creak through the cedar, pick a spot
and plant another plant.

Judith Schiele, Brandon, MS, USA
COMMENTS:  A multiplicity of images and articulated sounds attain a sense of magic in this poem.  Meant to be read aloud, this poem shows so much heart and love that the tender nature of this poet shines through every line.
=============
Spring Rites

My daisies sway like flags in the crisp air
That pumps my lungs.
My tulips shine in full glory as they catch the sunlight
That brings their rainbow petals into living color.
The sun brings life and color to me as well,
Putting sparkle into my eyes,
Setting my face aglow with warmth.
Perspiration tickles my eyelids,
Mock tears dried by the breeze.
I cannot sweat under the still-icy March wind,
I cannot shiver with my muscles churning soil.
This is paradise for a gardener,
Awakening from winter with the earth.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  An effective use of the poetic tool of metaphors adds dramatic effects.  Paradise, indeed.
=============
An Expanse

A width of breeze
a breadth of air
the length of green
sways in the sun
and I, on tiptoes
stretch to the warmth
listening to floral bells
tiny flowers and maple leaves
just beyond my grasp.
My footprints in the gravel path
I span the way
in crunching steps
a gardener simply lost
between the boughs
of another's grove.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Light and lively rhythm with an interesting twist at the end.  Something to see and hear and feel, and the reader fills in the scents, so every moment becomes a sensual but stolen delight in someone else's garden.
=============
The dirt beneath my nails

The sun shining warmly on my back.
Gentle breezes caressing my cheeks.
Kneeling and hunched over
digging out weeds,
an endless task for any gardener.
Just a few more.
I struggle to my feet,
Legs and back stiff from improper posture.
Settling into my Adirondack
I am awed by the fruits of my labour.
A masterpiece just for me
And home for butterflies and birds.

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, Canada
COMMENTS:  Shape is generated by material as the poem forms its own echoes.  Personal and realistic sharing of a gardener's 'plaint, with satisfaction at the end.

AWARDS
============
FIRST PLACE - WINNER OF A $15.00 ELECTRONIC BOOK GIFT CERTIFICATE

Future Tax

Once said an accountant named Boyd
Of two things you cannot avoid
"The taxes I'll pay
then wait on the day
until I can become android."

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

Check's In The Mail

Deciding, oh well what the heck
I'm getting a nice refund check,
I shopped hard and I spent
all my cash plus the rent
and now I'm a financial wreck.

Cliff Roberts, Fort Worth, TX, USA

Sure Things

There's Death and there's taxes, it's true
But that's really not anything new.
They'll not be denied -
You can run, you can't hide -
When one or the other comes due.

John E. Rice, Houston, TX, USA

Simple Solution

You hate to pay taxes each year?
The perfect solution is here:
Just keep income small--
Like nothing at all--
And you’ll have no taxes to fear!

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

If a refund is due, he'll bellow
If the tax hit is large, he'll groan
I need not be told
If money is owed
It shows in his tempo and tone

SJ Baldock, Lancaster TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Nice "sound" rhyme in "groan/tone" and "told/owed."
==============
Tax Time

April, along comes the tax man -
his game to snatch all that he can.
The Man grabs so much
he even takes lunch.
I'd cook but he seized the last pan.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA
COMMENTS:  This cook's complaint echoes ours!
==============
Quick Cure

Johnny feigned illness to avoid school
His mom quoted the old family rule
"Caster Oil is the trick
For anyone who's sick."
He chirped, "Mom, I'm OK, April Fool!"

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX
COMMENTS:  Clever Mom to bring out the Caster Oil to cure that age-old illness, "sick of school."
==============
15 Over 49

All this talk of the tax deadline
I haven't even started mine
Midnight is looming
My headache's booming
Wait - I'm Canadian, I'm fine

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, Canada
COMMENTS:  How do you spell tax relief?
==============
Spring Chill

There once was a man named O'Toole
Who thought that romancing was cool
'Till all the misses
Refused his kisses
And tagged him an old April Fool

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  Cute and apt.
==============
Countdown

Wanting my current cash flow
IRS sent me forms so they'd know
I sent off the form
that was meant to inform
they already have all of my dough.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA
COMMENTS:  This one is a knee-slapper.  Memorably funny.
==============
Taxes! Taxes! Taxes!

Taxes to the federal and state
I don't like it, but I relate
But then the county
Shares in the bounty
Taking everything that I make!

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  Sad, but true.

AWARDS
=============
FIRST PLACE

Pink Emeralds Window Dressing

I am surrounded by a thousand shades of green:
jade, forest, sage, emerald among those with names.
In these trees, even sky, shadows and flowers
seem green - blue, gray, yellow become secondary.

Tomorrow, my window will wake to a surprise.
Greenish gems will turn to ruby and pearl pink
as our giant rhododendron bursts into bloom.
For a few days, we will be rich as Faberge.

Gary Blankenship, Bremerton, WA, USA

Black And White Window Dressing

Black and white are all-season favorites in New York,
whereas Texas is famous for its Spring burst of colors.
A New York woman puts on her usual black suit to work,
just a little lightened up with humble white collar.

Adorned with a white pearl for a cocktail party
she wears a short silky striped black dress
complemented with high heels her sultry
look that one can see in Bloomingdale's window dressing.

Natalia Zaretsky, Wharton, NJ, USA

Lilac and Rose Dressing Up

I love bright, brilliant clothing,
In scarlet and in gold,
In royal blue and purple,
All dazzling, strong, and bold.

But in the birth of springtime,
When life blooms fresh and new,
It somehow seems more fitting
To wear a fragile hue.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

Lavender Red Dressing Up

In my private heart of hearts
I keep reserved in one small part
a very special party dress
my eyes so lovingly caress.

This dress so special to my eye
another might have passed it by,
invited out to dine and sup
I wear this dress for dressing up.

Janet Parker, Leesburg, FL, USA

Red peonies, stitched dainty pink,
Are visible from kitchen sink

Peony faces make me smile
In spite of dishes by the pile

Dishwashers, true, may save some time
But handwashing suits me just fine

Peony blossoms lighten heart
It seems I'm done hardly I've start

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Cute poem, nice sets that all work together to show the heart of this washer of dishes.
=============
Tangerine Rose Kitchen Window

I waken now each morning and I rise
stumbling to the window mesmerized,
by waltzing petals on the spring's fresh air
each settles to the earth without a care.

Commanded by the wind, a minuet
deftly danced, a scene I can't forget,
they melt into a spring like final snow
just beyond my little kitchen window.

Linda L. Creech, Bellefontaine, OH, USA
COMMENTS:  Great mix of unusual "sound" rhyme with alliteration and a rhythm that rises, springy and fresh, like the writing itself.
=============
Grape Fuchsia Upstairs Balcony

Late Sunday morning we fling our windows wide.
Day shines through gorgeous Grape Wisteria clusters,
speckles purple shade on stone balcony.  Spotted sparrow hides
between white iron rails; cheeps, chirps and blusters

as if to say, "You're late, you're late, no crispy crumbs for me?"
We brush deep Fuchsia Clematis from an overhead planter
aside, take our seats, golden toast, rich black Taj Mahal tea
and sit back to enjoy our wilderness vista; a natural enchanter.

Maryann Hazen-Stearns, Ellenville, NY, USA
COMMENTS:  Scrumptious repast on a balcony anyone would wish to visit.  Great descriptions that could fall naturally into the opening pages of a well-thumbed romantic novel.
============
Melon and Peach from My Kitchen Window

Melon and peach tones tempt from the garden,
azalea and dogwood sans even a pardon

cluster and burst in delicious profusion
without one thought of audacious intrusion;

but after the first flush of hunger subsides
I cannot resist so I feast with my eyes

the bountiful beauty of April fruition
framed by my kitchen window with purest intention.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Delicious writing, with a lush and juicy tone.  Yummy!
============
Golden Marigold Charms the Upstairs Balcony

Come in Marigold!  The weather's kinda wretched up here;
We're tired of the air-force grey that never seems to clear;
If you and your playful-colored kin would kindly appear,
we'd like, you, to feast our eyes on, for the rest of the year.

Your landscaped-eden misses you along the thicket tyranny
the dwarf spruce is an avid-fan of your comparative irony;
You ought know not to dawdle in your annual monotony,
for the lady of the house adores you on her upstairs balcony.

Tanya Larson, Kamloops, BC, Canada
COMMENTS:  The second verse is so wonderfully written, paired well with the first verse, but could stand alone on its own.  The "comparative irony" phrase add a gentle witty touch, as does the "dawdle in your annual monotony" line.  Well done, poet!
============
Blue-Purple Kitchen Window

Wildly scattered violets that look azure blue
dotting the ground with a blue-purple hue.

Regal violet crocuses bloom ever so brightly.
Like the eyes of Liz Taylor, they seem to me.

Clumps of tiny hyacinths grace the placid pond.
A royal grape berry color of which I am fond.

Blue-purple chromatic shades make me so happy
Looking out my kitchen window this is what I see.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, Maryland, USA
COMMENTS:  Fantastic colors that jump right off a movie screen and into your own backyard and back again.  Beautifully described and wonderfully composed.
============
Indigo and Salmon Window Dressing

Indigo and salmon tentacles in the wind
Twisting and turning they bend

Crimson tides a flutter
Resting on my gutter

Chimes bursting with song
Mocking birds sing along

Without a thought or notion
Wind mobiles are set in motion

M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, Canada
COMMENTS:  Wonderfully original phrasings and delicate descriptions, along with a romping rhythm and cadence just beg for this poem to be read aloud.
 
 

Restoration

Unexpected early Spring frosts were not killers - but
mean enough; burned the bougainvillea brown, allamanda and
hibiscus bare to the ground. We're past it now. The warm air
rustles and rattles among the remnants of ginger fronds. I move
methodically, twig to branch to trunk, nicking the bark with a
thumbnail - finding the green. Gardener, groundskeeper, grateful
to be part of the equation. As I prune, I watch the sunlight, bracketed
by its companions in chiaroscuro, track across the empty beds. I
plan next week's planting - hibiscus here, impatiens there.
Their colors bloom in my mind as I stand to stretch my back.
The old yardman at the big house next door sees me
across the fence.
"You know, I ustacud chop cotton all day," he says. He smiles
and bends to his work, disappearing
behind the fence.

John E. Rice, Houston, 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 in December.  The winner(s) of that contest will be awarded prizes and will be invited to enter Sol Magazine's Poet Laureate 2003 Competition.

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