CONTENTS of this page:

• LETTERS
• LOVE ALONE
• REMEMBERED IN WINTER
• SHADOW TALKER
• HIDDEN CONTEST:  OCTOBER CHANGES
• CLICHÉD MUSE
• EDITOR'S CHOICE
• Staff info

LETTERS - The following letters may be lightly edited.

FROM -- LYNNE CRAIG:   Thank you for the gift certificate. I did, indeed, find something I've had my eye on, and I ordered it immediately.  You respond so courteously and promptly.  You encourage me as a poet, too.   I'm so glad you allowed me to become a member of Sol because I'm finding it very challenging.  I was stuck in a rut, always writing about the same limited subjects and using the same old formats.  Your contest subjects and format requirements forced open a whole new horizon and forced me to branch out. And I'm finding that to be a lot of fun.  I really enjoy reading the other poets' work. Their artistry increases the challenge and makes me work harder, which is very invigorating. You know that feeling of being "in the zone"? Those are the zoning restrictions I like! Now I'm looking forward to trying a lilibonelle. This is so much fun.

FROM LK Hunsaker:  What a beautiful site!  (LK Hunsaker is Editor of Elucidations.  http://www.elucidations.us)

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FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate.

I’m Sorry

If only you’d reach for me
Embracing my touch
Meeting me halfway
With yearning

Embracing my touch
Not pulling away or
Visibly stiffening
In my presence

Meeting me halfway
Our slates cleaned
No recompense due
Forgiving/forgiven

With yearning
I would reach for you
And trying on love again, we'd
Marvel that after hateful words
It still fits

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

The Abyss Between Us

A sudden glance in the mirror startles me,
as if your apparition has appeared to me once again.
But no.  It is only another of time's tricks.
I have become you.  I do not know when this began.

Your presence has startled me once more,
though it has been many years since you went away.
I do not visit that lonely place any more
...except that I think of you every day.

But no.  It is only another of time's tricks
that makes me think I am always aware
of your memory when I have forgotten a line on your face.
How could I forget anything?  It is not that I don't care.

I have become you.  I do not know when this began.
Time that does not sleep by sun or moon
has slowly eroded my face and engraved yours on mine.
Though I turn and walk away, I know I will join you soon.

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX, USA

Never Written

And it is gone, the shared existence
the me that was you, the you: me
the sun dying before sunset
a black ball suspended at the horizon

the me that was you, the you: me
our rhythms lost in the glare
that isn't there, into the darkness
that now visits our love alone.

The sun dying before sunset
as I then forget the time
fingers slowly join, locking
the hands of the clock in midnight

a black ball suspended at the horizon
we wait in the dark, listening
for a whisper scarcely heard, then not
a verse never written then fades.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, Texas, USA

You said, and I could not deny,
That it made much more sense to drive
Half the distance each, than arrive
One at our wits’ end, you or I.

That it made much more sense to drive
For half the day, and yet stay sane,
Than stay at home and nurse the pain –
I agreed.  So we must contrive

Half the distance each, then arrive
At the center, balanced between
Love and fear and all we’ve both seen.
Something must change – how could we thrive,

One at our wits’ end, you or I?
We sink new roots, clasp hands, hold fast –
Center on each other, at last –
Find balance nothing can deny.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
COMMENTS:  Nice play on the old cliché, "meet me halfway."  A song of understanding, of compromise, of mutual desire driving two in different locations to a central point.  Is this about two lovers trapped in two geographical locations, or about two once-lovers trapped on opposite sides of a rift and slowly agreeing to compromise and meet again, in the middle.  Excellent use of middle, center, clasp, concepts of unity;  this truly has the sensation of two becoming one.  Tightly controlled rhyme and rhythm fit the subject matter.
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Memory Thief

Our oldest sister sits as still as a stone
Nickel eyes stare at voiceless shapes
Memory lost in the mists of forgetfulness
Invisible shackles coil about her mind

Nickel eyes stare at voiceless shapes
Of dark goblins that only she can see
She had taught us to love life and laugh
With her effervescent personality

Memory lost in the mists of forgetfulness
She does not reminisce about early days
Or checks to be sure we are all well
Like a bantam hen with her brood

Invisible shackles coil about her mind
Wishing to untangle these bonds
We hold her hand attempting to return
A portion of the love she so generously
Bestowed upon us all the days of our lives

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Intriguing word choices create an unforgettable image:  "still as a stone," "nickel eyes," and "voiceless shapes," to name but a few.  There is a sense of something lost, perhaps half-desperation just under the veneer of surface.  A chilling portrait of how mental illness can steal those we love from us, and leave us wanting to remember with them but unable to do so.  Excellent word choices and rhythm throughout.
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Piece of Mine

you make me believe
with each word and touch
with every shared breath
all the little things

with each word and touch
you reach inside to
levels so secret
even I did not know

with every shared breath
I taste your spirit
so salty sweet, and
share a piece of mine

all the little things
circle and wander
in search of the path
steps along the way

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS:  Wonderful title.  The poet chose direct language and simple sentence structures for powerful emotional impact.  Wonderful line rhythm and effortless interchanging of key phrases.  Unexpected use of the phrase "piece of mine" plays off the "peace of mind" that truest love can bring to us.
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Rare Pearl

He said, I love another
I thought, that's fine with me
I would look the world over
There were other fish in the sea

I thought, that's fine with me
Bought sassy hats and white gloves
And paraded by his house
Holding my head up high

I would look the world over
New guys would buy fine jewelry
Take me around the world
And treat me like a queen

There were other fish in the sea
Some handsome as well as fun loving
We traveled and found rare pearls
But none ever warmed my heart
Like the one that got away

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS:  Wonderful and heartbreaking, this relies on "sassy" images and defiance.  The poet uses words to create not a sensation of sound, but a sensation of image.  It is very easy to clearly envision the toss of the head, the search the world over, the sparkle of diamonds.  Wonderful parallel between the defiance of thoughts, but the sadness of feeling provides a true illustration of how so many people spend their time.  Well done.
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Bridge The Distance

I take one step forward
you waltz into my life
I lose this gain of ground
take two steps back

you waltz into my life
without any care
you are everywhere
in the very air I breathe

I lose this gain of ground
it took not a little
backward walking
to the middle of nowhere

take two steps back
love spins much too fast
embrace me, touch my heart
close this distance
take one step forward with me

Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA
COMMENTS:  Short lines and key words bring a feeling of a waltz as the lines swirl and stop in a dance.  Nice commentary, with good imagery in the third stanza, and a stirring plea at the end to give a twist to an otherwise straightforward poem.
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Worth the Wait

They said I was too choosy
but only fools would think
better the wrong partner
than none at all

but only fools would think
that the right one was easy to find
or that love at first sight
was an infallible sign

better the wrong partner
should have been avoided
--even though I was alone
for what seemed a long time--

than none at all
should have been good to me
but now I know the delay
helped me love you all the more

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Good internal and cross-stanza rhymes tie this into a cohesive whole.  This topic is one that every single woman has heard in her lifetime after a "certain age."  A warm and sensible declaration with a smile-provoking ending.  Clear diction helps convey the attitude of someone who is sensibly "sticking to her guns."
 

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FIRST PLACE -  Winner of a copy of the PITA Anthology.

Slanting Sun

In winter’s dimness after dusk
As northern wind blows in so brusque,
A glint of golden window shines
Through fence of firs and pale of pines.
The glass itself is cool and clear,
And gives no glimpse of summer here.
It is the light that warms and runs
Like heather honey over buns.
As winter sunlight wanders west,
One window’s ray takes up its quest.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA

Golden Gleams

Spring has its golden-breasted warblers
flitting through the trees.
Summer has its golden sunsets
breaking the day's long heat.
Autumn has its golden leaves,
a crown above the path.
What golden treasures lie in cold, gray winter?
The golden glow of fires and hearts,
the golden memories of years past,
the golden hopes of years to come.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

The Drifts of Her

She was a winter night, the warm hug
and mug of hot chocolate you came home to
the Christmas lights on a tree, shining in the dark
the gentle song that promised a Silent Night
and a kiss with the milk and cookies left for Santa.

In the morning she was the snow
not unexpected, but a wonderful surprise
the pure white drifting in otherwise gray skies
a sled dashing down a hillside, a snow angel,
the smile, as snowflakes melted on your tongue.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

Kiss Of Life

Hesitant the butterfly opens
delicate gilded wings
kindles light aflutter
soft gold dust swirls
in dance aphelion
ascending, the sun stands tall
celestial whispers tantalize
butterfly kisses bronze
star of light, star of life
phosphorescence and wings

Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA

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FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Sleep Over

Moonlight stencils
Swaying willow branches
Across bedroom wall
Amy whispers, “They’re hungry wolves.”
Lee says, “My Dad told me those
Are talking shadow watch dogs.”
Now when fears come near Amy
She whistles for her own watchdogs.

Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA

Dark Sister

In the dark arms of night,
You fold yourself away inside me.
In the light of living day,
You come to dance beside me.
My dark twin, my shadow sister,
You are what the world seeks to hide:
My grace and glory, my anger and my pride.
Darkness of my darkness,
You are only visible
In the light.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA

Stitching Shadows

Mischievous other-son
following tiny footsteps across the beach,
flitting round and round in awkward spirals
into the water, holding your breath
until the tide or your other half withdraws,
whose touch and kiss are as gritty as the sand
that curious hands grasp, investigating just who you are;
Don’t grow so quickly as you are now,
Though the sun does time’s job for you.

Brady Riddle, Galveston, TX, USA

Lonely, But Not Alone

Why cry desiccate tears
Of fragile ambiguity?
You’ll never see them fall

I hold mute conversations
With your shadow self, while

You
Are wherever it is you go
When you shut me out

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Strongly ironic, even contradictory, language captures how intense
alienation accompanies intimacy. The impossibility of verbal combinations
(desiccate tears, mute conversations) highlights the mystery of silent
withdrawal.   This poem flows well, and the ending has a tone of true
finality, like a closing door.
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HONORABLE MENTION

What's Been Called Shade

It's a thought I think, to sink deep in ink, fraught
in fractious fiction the diction chanted in slanted rhyme
a primal verse fractured, but well rehearsed then dispersed
in whispers, a heated hush, then rush to reply
each growing lie un-denied as innocence is vilified.

Just a thought mind you, perhaps you'll find truth behind
what's been called shade, afraid of the nothingness
that slowly flows from shadow, of the million silent
sounds far underground, long buried beneath a belief
in words viciously sown, daggers thrown into my heart.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem is kept intensely rolling forward through excellent use of stream-of-consciousness, tight inside rhymes, and consonance. The second stanza reveals deep meaning of what lies beneath shadow.  Lovely use of language throughout, particularly alliteration.
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OTHERS POEMS COMMENTED UPON BY OUR JUDGES AND/OR EDITORS
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Hole in Space

The blackness is expanding,
what started out as a tiny shadow,
has filled the whole night sky.
Asked by a young reporter
"Is it going to swallow the earth?"
Astronomer shrugs "Ask someone who knows."
Final night, the stars are all gone.
Only three planets, the moon and question,
Will the sun rise tomorrow?

Jim Applegate, Roswell, NM, USA
COMMENTS:  The quizzical nature of this poetic science fiction piece invites the reader to ponder a mystery with the writer.  Interesting approach to the topic.
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Peace Robber

Relentless shadows nag at me
Shattering peace of mind
They talk of worries
Shackling all positive actions
Then I flip my inner attitude switch
False images vanish

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Succinctly covers an upbeat attitude control, and makes this piece positively good to read.
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Mentor

A lovely friend, she appears
through my mist of defeat. Fragile as dawn,
as though clothed in flowing gossamer,
she is gentle, wearing thought as a mantle.
Watching shadows that I cannot see,
she dreams ideas new to me. I catch my breath
and wait to see what she sees. Softly,
she chisels out forms with strokes like feathers,
and then shares them so that I drink in
the beauty of her poetry.

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Wonderfully written piece.  Paints dream-like word pictures  that seem to pierce and almost replace reality.  Delicate, breathless, yet strong.
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Midnight Vision

I wake to find you
dark aspect
silhouette against the night
unseen eyes staring down
freezing me
where I lie
alone
then you vanish
wordless
leaving only fear

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS:  A soft touch with a difficult topic.  Eerie piece that haunts long after it's read.
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Innominate

Behold
the changeling child.
The indolent daughter
of night.  She is the sun's shadow.
She shines.

Laura Heidy, Highland, IN, USA
COMMENTS:  Good use of alliteration.  Interesting juxtaposition of differing concepts in the darkness shining.  Nice language use.
============
Black Fire

Black Fire, orange sky, burning the day away
Trees whispering in the wind
Talking to me, singing their song
As their shadows burn
black tree-shaped holes in the sky
Unmoving except for their leafy mouths
saying wordless prose
in the evening, in the dark.
I stand in awe of their symmetry
and soundless screams.

Alva Irish, Fountain Inn, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Strong imagery makes this striking piece stand out.  A very spooky scene well revealed in a very few lines.
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Fear

The sound
of true darkness -
silence in the shadows
creeping along the edges of
my mind.

Deborah P. Kolodji, Temple City, CA, USA
COMMENTS:  Interesting psychological cinquain that points out that we are all prey to certain fears.  It's difficult to use this form to convey so much information.  Nicely done.
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Spirit Voices
 
On shadowed rock
sacred paint images
from the eternal sands
color in two dimensions
a spiritual geography
with many voices.
Ancient pictographs
teach through spirit insight
the beliefs of the people
in lines of communication.
 
Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA
COMMENTS:  Wonderfully unique take on darkness that relates it to ancient life.  Thoughtful piece that links past, present, and future.  Succinct, particular word choices make this poem a good example for how to say much in very few words.  Well done.
============
Turned Away from the Sun

She talks to her shadow
oblivious to the people in the park
who bask in the sun.
The brighter the sun
the darker the shadow.
Eyes cast downward,
she never looks at the light.
What secret sorrows hide in her heart?
Only her shadow knows.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem stands out because of its setting and simple placement of character. "Eyes cast downward" portrays a persona intensely emotional and withdrawn, leaving the reader to want to know her.
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Dichotomy - Day Three

I stand, tired, weary
near dusk. Blue jeans,
torn chambray shirt
a three day growth
of beard.

He's stronger. Clean, crisp
ready to battle for dominance.
Our conversation begins
as darkness envelops
the half moon.

Tony A. Thompson, Lufkin, TX USA
COMMENTS:  The vivid imagery of the poem makes the reader wonder what
happens in the ensuing conversation.  Excellent scene setting.  Good detail work.
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Safety in the Shadows
 
Wounded of heart
the shadows called out to me
into its safety I went
being filled of pain
I needed unseen shelter to heal
hoping for answers
I hide, and watch
awaiting for strength
to once again
join the living
 
Daisy Autry Worrock,  Abingdon, VA,  USA
COMMENTS:  A victim speaks from the shadows of a shattered life.  It takes courage to publicly hint at how we feel, even more strength to reveal those feelings honestly.  Excellent revelation.
 

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*R.T. Castleberry is director of the Flying Dutchman Writers Troupe, a literary performance group, and co-editor/publisher with Carolyn Adams of the Flying Dutchman Writers Troupe's poetry publication, Curbside Review. Founded in 2000, Curbside Review is currently Houston's only monthly print poetry journal.  To receive a sample copy, send a SASE to P. O. Box 667189, Houston, TX, USA 77266-7189.
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FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate

Amass in Bon Secor

A consortium of twenty thousand wings quietly invades
tree and brush, leaf and bush. These masses cluster
grape-like then fold in evening prayer. Deep purple
robes and melts lengthening shadows across rolled
bales of golden hay in Fall fields. Opening and
closing wings like missalettes consorts take rest enroute
among the trunks of water oaks as an epiphany
of many finite heartbeats focused into one single purpose.
Each delicate, fluttering, black and orange veined wing
hallows equinoxal whisperings of "Mexico!" and "Monarchy!"

Claiborne S. Walsh, Montrose, AL

Under the Stone

The long hot days have dwindled into chill breezes and
Quickening dusk. The cicadas fall silent, the shrill
Violin of their voices unstrung. Their young, gorged plump
On September’s bounty, dig deep towards winter’s sleep
And the slow strange magic of metamorphosis. They lie
In the ground, under the shelter of stone and the cupped
Hands of oakroot. Within them they hold summer’s song
Wrapped in cellophane, kept safe until spring. Then they
Will awaken and tune themselves to May’s melody, as the
Conductor takes up the wand and gives them the cue to begin.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA

Last Hunt Over Bras d'Or

From your perch on a dead spruce limb,
you watch the low sun cross the sky, slip
behind cold, burning hills and paint the lakes
as gold as their name.  The dying season comes
late this year, held back by unseasonable warmth.
More prey for the watchful, like you and your
banded brethren.  More time before wintering flocks
crowd the spruce and vie for carrion while the
freshest morsels hide beneath the whitened earth.

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN

In softened soil
Of cradled compost --
Like an earth mover primordial
Methodically mining black gold --
Tenacious tenant hollows out
Hibernation hole

Motivated by instinct (more so than
Understanding), he’s nevertheless aware:
Winter waits for no tortoise

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Excellent imagery brings a physical sensation to the visual concept.  Wonderful alliteration highlighted by an intimate look at underground happenings.  Nice use of specific adjectives such as "softened" and "compost" to help create a visual and mental understanding of the time of year without a direct statement.  Good solid conclusion.
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An Instant In Spalding
 
A chill morning mist swirls
fields, corn, pumpkins, pine,
the stag stands proud, alert
scenting the air for danger,
coat buff, ivory antlers, a glimpse,
behind an old split-rail fence
the belligerent buck forages,
tracks a mate, distant click echoes,
white-flag raised, twitches alarm,
vapor through scarlet maple.
 
Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA
COMMENTS:   Short, quick lines and descriptions fit the bounding motion of the deer as it bounces and zigzags across a fresh morning field sheened with frost.  Tightly woven lines are clear and concise without losing any meaning, and the colors are well chosen to properly paint the scene for the reader.  Wonderful diction and alliteration, as well as internal rhymes and near rhymes.
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Chesapeake Bay Last Meal

Predatory black buzzards fly over still waters
of the Chesapeake Bay, perching mysteriously in trees.
Like an ominous scene, old-time watermen in workboats
drop their crab pots for the last harvest of the season;
selling the large crabs to Maryland vacationers.
Small crabs are thrown back into the water
where the buzzards dive into the bay, devouring them.
These frightful birds return to their dead branches,
screaming at watermen with their blood curdling caws.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  This clearly described scene is familiar to anyone living near water.  Nice details such as "Maryland vacationers" illustrate the transience of the scene and give the time of year.  As vacationers come and go, so, too, will the buzzards, the frost, the snow.  The cycles continue to turn and will eventually bring those same vacationers back again and again to repeat the same rote routes.
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My Houston Backyard

The first ruby-crowned kinglet
Arrived here this weekend;
His white-ringed black eye
Stared at me through the glass
As I wiped breakfast dishes--
His wings flicked a message:
"The winter is near,
And I'm here as your guest."
Dear pert little bird, dressed in olive and white,
You bring our gray winters a touch of the light.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This cute down-to-earth home story clearly captures how we each see the turn of the seasons a little differently.  Nice parallels between the bird outside (staring, flicking wings) and the person inside wiping dishes.  Each  motions to the other, a winter guest, a willing host.   Nicely done.
 

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OCTOBER - THE CLICHÉD MUSE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate.

CLICHÉ:   Fools fear fate; the wise endure.
REWRITE:  Fools fear freight; the wise insure.

Snail Service

In an age of electrons and information, we must sometimes
Still ship packets of actual paper and product, despite
The precarious nature of the process.  Daunted?
Well, you’re not alone, but I’ll share this secret:
Fools fear freight; the wise insure.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
 
 
 

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EDITOR'S CHOICE

Amass in Bon Secor

A consortium of twenty thousand wings quietly invades
tree and brush, leaf and bush. These masses cluster
grape-like then fold in evening prayer. Deep purple
robes and melts lengthening shadows across rolled
bales of golden hay in Fall fields. Opening and
closing wings like missalettes consorts take rest enroute
among the trunks of water oaks as an epiphany
of many finite heartbeats focused into one single purpose.
Each delicate, fluttering, black and orange veined wing
hallows equinoxal whisperings of "Mexico!" and "Monarchy!"

Claiborne S. Walsh, Montrose, AL
COMMENTS:  Unique imagery is married to a rich vocabulary in an epiphany of many finite heartbeats and a rather breathless rhythm line.  A lovely scene lovingly captured.  Excellent imagery.  The comparison between butterflies massing and the opening and closing of a book is explicitly and exquisitely done.  Effortless comparisons are marvelous in the range of phrasings and images.  The closing lines include an excellent double entendre.  Well done!

There is no immediate prize associated with a poem having been picked as Editor's Choice in 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 EDITOR'S CHOICE of each month in the year 2003 will be automatically entered in the EDITOR'S CHOICE OF THE YEAR 2003 competition.

Questions?  E-mail Mary Margaret Carlisle, Managing Editor: Sol.Editor@prodigy.net
Please refer to this page for Sol Magazine questions & email contacts:
http://www.sol-magazine.org/question.htm
 

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