Sol Magazine
www.sol-magazine.org
February 2004 Edition
 © 2004 Sol Magazine


Sol Magazine, A Poetry Journal:    An international organization of Members and Volunteers interested in the education of poets.  E-mail us at Sol.Magazine@prodigy.net .  For Submission Requirements and Membership information, visit: http://www.sol-magazine.org.


BEST POETRYZINE ON THE INTERNET CONTEST

The results are in:

Final Standings of the 2003 Preditors & Editors Poll - Category:  Best poetryzine on the internet:  Sol Magazine - Tied for 3rd place.  Note that Sol Magazine was the only purely poetry magazine in the top three.  http://www.critters.org/predpoll/tally.html

Thanks so much for participating!


SPONSORS:
DODIE MEEKS
SOL MAGAZINE
JUDGES:
ESHA B. NEOGY
DODIE MEEKS
JOHN E. RICE
MARY MARGARET CARLISLE
CRAIG TIGERMAN
BETTY ANN WHITNEY


DEDICATION: To six remarkable women:  Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Billie Holiday, Lena Horne, Maya Angelou, and Toni Morrison.  Let the truth be known! 

FEATURED ARTICLES
Note: These links are on separate web pages and will exit you from the current edition.
  • Grammar Rules!: "Carat Versus Caret"
  • Ask Us - Answer This
  • CONTENTS of this page:

    LETTERS - Letters may be edited for length. 
    FROM -- CHUCK WEMPLE:   Keep up the great work - sol magazine is a wonderful resource and web-based gathering place :)  Chuck
    FROM -- JAMES M. THOMPSON:  Thank you for the congratulations and for the gift certificate.  I used the gift certificate to purchase "Black Zodiac" by Charles Wright and "Vigil:Poems" by CK Williams.  Jim 

     
    HAIKU Q&A
    Thank you for your responses to the three questions we recently posed about Haiku.  We've given careful thought to your suggestions, and have decided to allow the use of manmade objects in future contests, and to occasionally allow mention of people in certain contests. 
    Letters About Haiku 
    FROM -- KATHY PAUPORE:  I find the current Haiku rules quite challenging.  The challenge is a good thing though.  It sharpens the skill.
    FROM -- CLAIBORNE S. WALSH:  I think they are fine as they are.
    FROM -- JUDITH SCHIELE:  I feel your current Haiku form rules are challenging, but ok as they are.  They follow traditional Haiku rules that I am familiar with.
    FROM -- CINDY TEBO:  Allow articles and manmade objects.
    FROM -- KATHERINE SWARTS:   I have no particular opinion on the current rules.  However, when I first heard of the form (in grade school English), I was taught that it was written in a 5/7/5 format.
    FROM -- SUZANNE C. COLE:   Too restrictive in not allowing articles or punctuation, or not referencing people or man-made objects, and in saying "the middle line is longer than the other two lines." 
    FROM -- STACEY WILCOX:  I think the rules are challenging, but fine as they are.
    FROM -- SJ BALDOCK:  I hope you won't change the criterion at SOL.  That you don't compromise is important if we are to grow as writers. 
    FROM -- ELIZABETH BARRETTE:  Delete or make optional the requirement to use simple words and expressions. Delete the rule that says Haiku relate to things directly without metaphors or personification.  Modify the rule about adjectives etc to "avoid overusing adjectives."   Require a 5-7-5 form.  Pick three other mandatory rules and make the rest optional.



    LAGNIAPPE:  RED ROSES & VALENTINES - NOT!
    JUDGE:  MARY MARGARET CARLISLE
    SPONSOR:  SOL MAGAZINE & LEO F. WALTZ

    We asked our poets to write about love and disappointment, longing and disenchantment.  It is evident by the response that while some folks are not shy about asking for what they want, others accept their cruel fate with resignation and protestations of love.  We wish we could send every respondent chocolate!  The judge says all were great fun to read.  Even though only one winner was to be chosen, the second-place poems were impossible to ignore, while the honorable mention made the judge laugh out loud.
    ============
    FIRST PLACE  Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate.

    Not Sent

    My secret love oceans away,
    You will not send a card or speak,
    In a house and arms not mine,
    I'll whisper it and will be
    Taken by a butterfly beat-to you.

    Andrew McNeil, Fife, SC, GBR

    =============
    SECOND PLACE TIE
    Bending Cupid's Beau

    Each Cupid's Day for fifteen years in a row
    You've brought candies and cards with sweet verses
    You are attentive and sweet; a perfect beau
    But this year not another heart-shaped thing - curses
    I want a ring and wedding bells chiming in the spring

    Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA

    =============
    SECOND PLACE TIE
    A Misplaced Plea to St. Valentinus

    Where is that Cupid that you promised?  Oh right—
    you don’t hail from Mt. Olympus…This year I would
    like a man, one part hero and two parts Pan.  Aphrodite
    hear my plea—there must be someone who’ll love me!

    Terrie Leigh Relf, San Diego, CA, USA

    =============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Plastic

    My birthday brought an ice cube tray
    Christmas yielded a measuring cup
    Take a little advice, my dear
    Before Valentine's Day rolls around
    Spare me, please, from plastic hearts

    Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
    =============
    OTHER ENTRIES
    =============
    My Dense Valentine

    For my birthday I got golf clubs; for Christmas I got a boat
    I can neither golf nor fish - is this his idea of a joke?
    With Valentine’s Day forthcoming
    I’ve been dropping innumerable hints
    And I better be getting JEWELRY if he’s got a lick of sense!

    SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
    ============
    My Love Is Like a Red Red -- WHAT?

    Call me a traditionalist,
    But this year I want roses –
    Real roses, not a wad of red lace
    Cleverly counterfeiting a rose that unravels
    Into panties.

    Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
    ============
    New Prospect

    Frank was fond of my fondue I cooked last Feb 14th
    Hoping he would bring me a heart-shaped belly button ring
    He ate, then slept by the TV and I didn’t get a thing
    This year's February fellow is really rather sweet
    I think he'll be calling soon and ask me out to eat.

    Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
    ============
    Dear Valentine

    Panties and p.j.'s and petunias--all red
    Cards and cats and can openers--you've tried
    Carnations and kisses and chocolates in boxes gift wrapped.
    This year could you just send a long coat? Brrr. I'm cold.

    Carol Cotten, Galveston, TX, USA
    ============
    You Got Everything Right Except...

    I'd like chocolate-covered caramels for Valentine's Day,
    The same as last year, but one change:
    Could you have them delivered by someone else?
    Of course I'm always glad to see you, but...
    When you said good-bye last year, you left an empty box!

    Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
    =============
    Out of the Box

    This year I'd like to think my just desserts
    Perhaps is something different than the shirts
    Although they all fit fine, the color's wrong
    Perhaps a different idea wouldn't hurt:
    Say, do you think I'd look good in a thong?

    James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
    =============
    SOL STAFF ENTRIES
    =============

    FIRST PLACE

    Florida, My Flora

    A timeshare in the Keys
    If you're seeking to please
    Or love under Miami's moon
    If you want to see me swoon

    Craig Tigerman, Rock Island, IL,  USA

    ============
    SECOND PLACE TIE
    Request, Redux

    Some candy, or roses, violets, and posies,
    Or even diamonds in a fine design
    (For frankly, my dear, this is one year
    I do not need my tires aligned!)

    Paula M. Bentley, Surry, VA, USA

    =============
    SECOND PLACE TIE
    Stunned Silence

    Please.  Honey.   This year.  This Valentine celebration.  No wine.
    Not roses handed me as I stand peeling onions at the kitchen sink.
    We gals who’ve lived long through many home Valentine photos
    Would rather pose for the camera at a Key West Beach--
    Or the Stars Dinner Theater or even the downtown Flicks.  Got it?

    Betty Ann Whitney, Wesley Chapel, FL, USA

    ============
    SECOND PLACE TIE
    No Roses...

    I want to be a country singer
    to posses the song and sing
    wear my hat, wear my boots
    and dance across the stage
    a timely two step into your heart...

    Bonnie Williams, Deptford, NJ, USA

    Back to contents


    CLICHÉD MUSE

    cliche:  a creature of habit
    rewrite:  experiencing a gravitational tug

    Physicist-in-Training*

    If fat cells equal mass, and mass affects the gravitational
    tug of X number of rotations around a stable body in space,
    and if that stable body is an ice-cream-filled freezer, then
    the existence of fat cells disproves the theory that change
    is the only universal constant.

     *from the “Study Question Section” of the
     Physicist-in-Training Manual, Vol. X,
     ”Special Appendix 47b” (a fictional work)

    Terrie Leigh Relf, San Diego, CA, USA
    COMMENTS:  Wild, inventive, and lots of fun!  Well crafted, from title to poetic note at the end.
    EDITOR'S NOTE:  While this poem seems to fudge on the "five line max" rule, it actually follows the "titles and footnoes are not counted as lines" rule.  Since no particular form was given in this particular contest, the footnote was permitted.
     


    EDITOR'S CHOICE

    EDITOR'S CHOICE - TIE

    Sol Magazine's editors usually choose one favorite poem each month for the honor of EDITOR'S CHOICE.  Although no prize is associated with this, each EDITOR'S CHOICE will be automatically entered in the FAVORITE POEM OF THE YEAR 2004 competition, voted on by Sol Magazine Members at the end of the year.  This month we had a tie, so two poems are spotlit.

    From the GRAVESTONES IN WINTER contest comes this elegent Haiku:

    Winter ravaged plains
    Simple wood transcending
    Anonymity

    SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

    COMMENTS:  Well thought out. Careful word selection gives us a clear image of the triumph of immortality in a harsh environment.  Excellent contrast between the plain wood and the scoured countryside.

    From the GIVE BIRTH TO THE DREAM contest:

    Harriet Tubman, When Wolves Howled

    Wolves, not hounds
    Her heart leaps with relief and
    Simultaneously her body collapses with same.
    Fingers draw snarls into river-mud
    Striped with leaf mold.
    Dreadlocked curls welcome the civil coolness
    Of clay against her cheek
    Dampness seeps into the curl of her ear
    So weary, each muscle weeps.
    Her father’s image tumbles into focus
    His blindfolded eyes when she said goodbye,
    Last time this life.
    He’ll answer The Man, integrity intact,
    “No Massah, I ain’t seen Harriet tonight.”
    Her jaw tightens with courage
    She levers herself up on shaking forearms
    And plots the path to the nearest sycamore
    Refusing to feed the dream
    To an animal so menial
    It sings for its supper.

    Heather Jensen, Cheyenne, WY, USA

    COMMENTS:   This Narrative poem shows a dramatic writing style with good internal rhymes and great diction.   Very precise physical imagery mirrors the harshness of the physical and spiritual struggle.  Well done!

    Back to contents


    TOPIC:  WHEN I GOT DRESSED:  POST DIAGNOSIS
    JUDGES:  ESHA B. NEOGY, DODIE MEEKS, BETTY ANN WHITNEY
    SPONSOR:  DODIE MEEKS
    FORM:  DIALOGUE IN 2 STANZAS

    FIRST PLACE - PRIZE:  A copy of "When I Got Dressed Again," by Dodie Meeks, published by The Arts Alliance Center at Clear Lake, Houston, TX.  (C) 2001 Dodie Meeks.

    Chilly Fingers

    The doctor says:
    "Looks like you have a hernia
    could you turn your head
    and cough for me?"

    I reply: "Considering what you're holding
    how can I refuse?"
    Cough, cough.

    James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

    COMMENTS:  Light humorous verse, skillfully portrayed with a variety of rhythmical humorous sound echoes.  This poem has great immediacy.  It also has wit, a rare and precious commodity.
    ============
    SECOND PLACE
    Radiology Dept Scores Coup

    We need to establish baselines. You should have these tests:
    A sonogram, endoscopy, colonoscopy and your breasts
    Should undergo a mammogram since you’ve turned forty-nine
    Without having this done before, it’s really well past time

    Gallbladder, pancreas, liver? Stomach, intestines, boobs?
    To think I thunk when I came in
    I only had the flu!

    SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

    COMMENTS:  Rhythm, meter, and rhyme add strength and unity.  Funny.  It was the Internist who pulled on rubber gloves to track down the flu and helped radiology to meet their quota for the month!
    ============
    THIRD PLACE
    From The Next Room

    The doctor said
    your symptoms are challenging, let us take blood,
    try these pills they are bitter, come back in 3 months
    and we'll see.

    I said excuse me
    I've been feeling fatigued for 4 years
    my husband expects a faster cure.

    Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA

    COMMENTS:  Interesting and comic narrative is a mix of rhythmical pattern and near rhyme.  A novel in seven lines!  Cleverly engages its audience by making the reader wonder why the narrator did not go in sooner.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Looking Overweight

    The nurse looked up and kindly said,
    After months of watching what you ate
    I’m glad to see you’re overweight.
    For you were obese before.

    I’ve got to ask, does my bum look big in this?
    For the answer it used to bring
    was yes, it’s big in anything.

    Colin William Campbell, Kunming, YP, CHN
    COMMENTS:  Delightful and humorous with good visual emphasis.  Nice punch line.  Poem has a nice lilt.  This poet makes the reader emphasize with the narrator's plight by the use of self-depreciating comments.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Affairs of the Foot

    As I pulled on my shoes and shocks
    The podiatrist explained, "I can chip off this bone
    Or give you a sponge pad to relieve the pressure
    Causing pain in your big toe."

    I answered "When it comes to surgery I
    don't have the nerve to take that plunge
    I'll be happy with a little roll of sponge."

    Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:   Echoing sound is pleasurable.   Cleverly crafted and rhymed and a poem most people can readily identify with.  Note the nice play on words at the end of the first line adds both punch and foreshadowing to this snappy piece.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Percentages

    Stethoscope swinging and wearing a big smile
    Doc waltzes in as I tie my shoes
    "Well, old fella, we've gotta replace both knees
    Not to worry, we have a 90% rate of success"

    "Easy for you to say 'Nimblefoot'
    It's not the surgery that freaks me out
    But that I'll have 100% pain"

    Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA,  USA
    COMMENTS:  Well put!  This piece brings the reader both a groan and a smile.  Former national Poet Laureate Billy Collins does this in the same way, puts you in the scene then ends with a zinger.
    ============
    OTHER ENTRIES
    ============
    Stop Needling Me!

    The doctor said,
    I really think you'll benefit from this steroid injection
    in your knee - and being quite young, insisted -
    Pain?  Oh...no...it's not really painful.

    I, being old and wary, said, Oh.  Hm.  Really?
    You sure it's not painful?  Have you ever had one?
    No? Well, it pains me to say I'm not going to find out.

    Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX,  USA
    COMMENTS:  Shows that even subtle patterns of rhythm can create a tighter poem.  This addresses a universal problem:  The eager medico, a pain in ancient Greece.
    ============
    On My Knees

    Looks like osteoarthritis,
    the doctor said with a smile,
    but we should test you
    for rheumatoid as well.

    Lovely, I said, showing my teeth.
    I'm so glad you allowed for
    an alternative diagnosis.

    Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
    COMMENTS:  Sardonically and ironically wise, this poem brings a wry smile to the reader's face.  Nicely planned poem that ends on a rather "bitter" note.
    ============
    Thunderation, I'm Dying

    “Old friend,” said Doc Spear,
    “You might not be here
    when Fall rolls around,
    sad but true.”

    “Give up now, son,
    Afore harvest is done,
    And you don’t get paid, joke’s on you.”

    Heather Jensen, Cheyenne, WY, USA
    COMMENTS:  This quick piece shows how some folks find the grace to make light of even potentially fatal news.  We hope the poet made this cute story up.
    ============
    After My Physical Exam

    My doctor said
    Those aching joints are not from arthritis
    just signs you are getting older
    a pain killer should fix you right up.

    I said that's nice to know
    I was concerned why you have a limp
    and move so much slower lately.

    Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA
    COMMENTS:  Brief examination of the human condition from the patient's side.
    ============
    When I Say:  “No More Doctors!”

    The surgeon says,
    “We should really open you up again--
    that’s the only way we’ll see what’s
    really going on…”

    “Slice me open *again*?” she replies
    “I’m beginning to feel like a fruit bowl—
    which way will you cut me this time?”

    Terrie Leigh Relf, San Diego, CA, USA
    COMMENTS:  Cute but deadly serious, this poet approaches the topic in a very engaging way.
    ============
    Pap Smear

    He said, you're just fine
    but I wish you'd try to relax
    and not be so stiff
    while I'm performing the exam

    I said, "try to relax" is an oxymoron
    and so is relaxing while a cold steel rod
    is tearing your insides out

    Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:  Been there, felt and said that!  How could one not commiserate with the universal plight of any woman forced to sit through one of these dreadful exams.  Said in a matter of fact way that adds irony to the work.

    Back to contents


    GRAVESTONES IN WINTER
    TOPIC:  GRAVESTONES IN WINTER
    JUDGE:  JOHN RICE
    SPONSOR:  SOL MAGAZINE
    FORM:  HAIKU

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

    Winter ravaged plains
    Simple wood transcending
    Anonymity

    SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

    COMMENTS:  Well thought out. Careful word selection gives us a clear image of the triumph of immortality in a harsh environment.  Excellent contrast between the plain wood and the scoured countryside.
    ============
    SECOND PLACE
    black bird guardian
    eternal silent slumber
    blanketed in snow

    M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, CAN

    COMMENTS:  This traditional Haiku presents us with excellent imagery in simple black and white. Very well done.  The cemetery is evident in the language of this piece.
    ============
    THIRD PLACE
    withered flowers
    chilling winter wind
    mark unkempt grave

    Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA

    COMMENTS: A stark and chilling scene. Nicely done.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    northern wind bears down
    brittle markers lean away
    shelter faded lines

    Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
    COMMENTS:  Well done traditional Haiku. Good contrast with the words "brittle markers lean ..."
    ============
    EDITOR'S CHOICE

    ancient oak
    encased in ice bends over
    fresh grave

    Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:  Very nice. Clear snapshot imagery.  Excellent use of duality, with a nice contrast between old and new, ice and dug ground, tall and deep.  Very well done!
    ============
    OTHER POEMS COMMENTED UPON BY OUR JUDGE AND/OR OUR STAFF.
    ============

    foot prints
    in new snow
    rose on granite

    Jim Applegate, Roswell, NM, USA
    COMMENTS:  The aftermath of a visit to a lost loved one provides the reader with good imagery.
    ============
    leaves long gone
    new snow falls on ancient stones
    arranged in rows

    Colin William Campbell, Kunming, YP, CHN
    COMMENTS:  Subtle use of alliteration enhances this depiction of an old cemetery.  Good duality between the new snow and the ancient stones.
    ============

    icicles sparkle
    carved granite leans burdened
    dripping epitaph

    Curtis E. Cole, Seabrook, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:   Good choice of words in "dripping epitaph."  Nice contrast between the sparkle of icicles and the granite.
    ============

    hoary frost lights
    lichen covered lamb resting
    above infant's grave

    Kay Lay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
    COMMENTS:   Good use of alliteration in this sad, sweet image.
    ============

    Under leaden skies
    Valentine roses droop
    White marble headstone

    Mary E. Gray, Newport News, VA, USA
    COMMENTS:   Nicely done tribute to a lost love.  Good color contrasts, with a nice duality between sky and ground.
    ============

    cardinal
    flits from granite name
    to white bough

    Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
    COMMENTS: Stark yet graphically colorful imagery.
    ============

    fake red rose
    atop cold gravestone
    pink through light morning snow

    Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA
    COMMENTS:  The words "light morning snow" subtly shade the scene.
    ============

    white with frost
    names in dark granite
    frozen breath

    James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:  Whose breath?  The last breath of those names or that of a visitor bending close to the dark granite?  Lovely writing.

    Back to contents


    GIVE BIRTH TO THE DREAM
    JUDGE:  ESHA B. NEOGY, ROY SWARTZMAN, CRAIG TIGERMAN
    SPONSOR:  DODIE MEEKS, SOL MAGAZINE
    FORM: NARRATIVE POEM

    We applaud all those who entered this difficult competition, and salute the winners.  What excellent work!
    ====================
    FIRST PLACE - WINNER OF A $30.00 ELECTRONIC BOOK GIFT CERTIFICATE

    Harriet Tubman, When Wolves Howled

    Wolves, not hounds
    Her heart leaps with relief and
    Simultaneously her body collapses with same.
    Fingers draw snarls into river-mud
    Striped with leaf mold.
    Dreadlocked curls welcome the civil coolness
    Of clay against her cheek
    Dampness seeps into the curl of her ear
    So weary, each muscle weeps.
    Her father’s image tumbles into focus
    His blindfolded eyes when she said goodbye,
    Last time this life.
    He’ll answer The Man, integrity intact,
    “No Massah, I ain’t seen Harriet tonight.”
    Her jaw tightens with courage
    She levers herself up on shaking forearms
    And plots the path to the nearest sycamore
    Refusing to feed the dream
    To an animal so menial
    It sings for its supper.

    Heather Jensen, Cheyenne, WY, USA

    COMMENTS:   This Narrative poem shows a dramatic writing style with good internal rhymes and great diction.   Very precise physical imagery mirrors the harshness of the physical and spiritual struggle.  Well done!
    ====================
    SECOND PLACE
    Billie Holiday  -- Tasting Bitter Fruit

    Billie have you dreamt the dream, could you see
    Magnolia blossoms turning black in smoke
    The black man hanging from the poplar tree?

    From smoky bar rooms your rough harmony
    Echoed rhythms of the dark words you spoke
    Billie have you dreamt the dream, could you see

    A gallant South burning in anomie
    Tasting the bitter fruit that made you choke?
    The black man hanging from the poplar tree.

    Through car windows you watched the agony
    Then with your voice the silent ghost awoke
    Billie have you dreamt the dream, could you see

    Dark crowded tables heard of destiny
    Where black man felt the savage, deadly stroke.
    Billie have you dreamt the dream, could you see
    The black man hanging from the poplar tree?

    James M. Thompson, Baytown, Texas, USA

    COMMENTS:  Beautifully crafted, the poem reflects many of the ideas in the highly controversial and haunting ballad, “Strange Friuit.”  The reader can almost hear Billie herself mournfully, throatily singing these words. Each repeated line re-emerges with a nuanced sense, artfully crafting difference from sameness. Superb intertwining of theme and form.

    EDITOR'S NOTE:  Although Billie Holiday's signature song was later named song of the century by Time Magazine, and was called both the beginning of the civil rights movement and a declaration of war, she did not write it.  "Strange Fruit" was adapted to music from a poem written in 1938 (under the pseudonym Lewis Allen) by Abel Meeropol, a schoolteacher who later adopted the two sons of "atom bomb spies" Julius and Ethel Rosenberg after their 1953 execution.  Billie Holiday sang the song until her death in 1959.
    =============
    THIRD PLACE

    Ms. Tubman, Where Did You Find That Voice?

    So, Harriet, in the deepest, darkest warring days,
    Of brother against brother, father against son,
    Owner against slave, North against South,
    How did you reach into the depths of your soul
    To become the Sister who could say,
    “Come to me, for I will save you;
    Come to me, for I will show the way
    To the dream of freedom”?
    Can we find our voice alone?
    Do you have instructions?
    Whisper them to me now.

    Monica Martino, Plano, TX, USA

    COMMENTS:   Increasingly short lines make for increasingly breathless plea,
    making for an effective read.  The repeated appositions stress the many layers of struggle. The tone is restrained, with eloquently understated questions culminating in a simple, yet firm, plea.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Will Truth Set You Free?

    Sojourner Truth had a voice that nothing could silence.
    When the black men overlooked women,
    And the white people overlooked blacks,
    She stood in the middle, born female and ebony,
    With monumental voice demanding,
    And ain’t I a woman?
    She dreamed of freedom and equality,
    And beat out the words of the dream on her heart’s drum.
    She drove people with uncomfortable truths
    And still they listened, came back for more.
    Now I listen to the echoes of those words
    Still ringing down history’s canyon, and I ask myself:
    Is there freedom in truth?
    Is there truth in freedom?
    Something in me senses that this job is not finished,
    That liberty’s bell is cracked but not broken. I want
    A heart as strong as her drum, a quest as great as her
    Sojourn, and words to rock the rafters as high as hers, for
    She had a voice that nothing could silence,
    Not even time.

    Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
    COMMENTS:  Inspired and inspiring.  A fitting tribute to Sojourner’s eloquence and forcefulness.
    ============
    HONORABLE MENTION

    Lena Horne Never Grows Old

    She walks into the room, looking as beautiful
    as when she was just sixty-five.
    Her voice lifts in song, she belts out
    Stormy Weather - strong, tenacious
    in demeanor, those high notes touch
    the ceiling.  She stops at random tables
    chats with diners, personable, confident.

    Lena Horne stops at our table,
    unbelievable for me - this woman
    of such stature and fame.  Her smile
    genuine, like the dream recalled when
    I was a child, to see and touch someone
    such as this.  We shake hands, she talks
    about where she came from - Brooklyn,
    her first job on stage at the Cotton Club,
    New York City.  Then later a few movies-
    two of which had speaking roles in those days.

    Oh, but the way she moves, her still radiant
    voice - she is exactly ninety years of age.

    Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA
    COMMENTS:  The reader is immediately drawn into the great singer's presence. Endearing and enduring.  The elusive descriptions with simple adjectives capture Lena’s ghostly presence. The reader also yearns to learn from this specter’s brief visit.
    ============
    OTHER POEMS COMMENTED UPON BY OUR JUDGES AND OR OUR EDITORS
    ============
    Maya Angelou Defines Feminine Phenomenon

    When 1930’s pennies counted for much more
    Than just a contemplative thought,
    You envisaged your own New Deal
    Where “nappy black hair” Kafka-esqued
    To uncoiled locks of gild.
    Overnight a sleight of hand
    Detextuized and luminized
    Each ebon-blasted strand
    And morn begot a brand new you
    Whose bisque-kissed skin reigned superior
    To yesterday’s coffee carapace.
    When 1970’s nuclear race pit Americans
    Against a block of Soviet Reds,
    I waged my own Cold War
    Where “chubby plain girls” Brinkley-esqued
    To popularity and supermodel stardom.
    Though born quad decades asunder,
    The dream we shared continues to haunt
    Our gendermates still unable to see
    The “Phenomenal Woman” inside.

    Kathy Kehrli, Factoryville, PA, USA
    Poet’s Note: This poem was inspired by the following true account from Maya’s biography:  As a child she dreamed of waking to find her “nappy black hair” metamorphosed to a long blond bob because she felt life was better for a white girl than for a black girl.
    COMMENTS:  Inventive neologisms of proper nouns rendered as verbs. Internal rhymes and alliterations preserve continuity in a poem that spans several decades.  Wonderfully creative, almost experimental word use in "Detextuized and luminized."
    ============
    Harriet Tubman and the Book

    Long wanted by the law
    for her work in the cause of freedom,
    she sits by the train station unnoticed.
    Then two men begin studying her suspiciously.
    Quickly she opens a book,
    holds it in reading position,
    focuses her eyes on it.
    The men shake their heads:
    "Not the right woman after all;
    the one we want can't read or write."
    "I was praying I had the book right side up,"
    she would say later.
    Harriet, you who were raised a slave,
    barred from all education,
    even among your own people,
    did you see the dream on that day,
    the vision of a time to come,
    a time of freedom and justice
    and equal education for all?

    Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
    COMMENTS:  Interestingly told.  Effective concentration on a single, precise image. This focus expands to shed light on the more abstract, universal themes of freedom and justice.
    ============
    Eleanora Blossoms into Billie Holliday

    Little Eleanora crouches in a corner
    unseen by everyone except me. Men and
    women around her laugh, dance and
    carry on in this little house of “ill repute.”
    Little Eleanora is all smiles, entranced not
    by what she sees but by the vocal strengths
    of Louis Armstrong and Bessie Smith
    thundering from my victrola. Some day
    my little errand girl will break from her
    shy seedpod, grow up and blossom into a
    sweet-smelling gardenia, become her own
    “Lady Day” on the airwaves for other little
    girls hiding in corners mesmerized by
    the dream of soul and jazz desires.

    M. E. Wood, Belleville, ON, CAN
    COMMENTS:  The image of the crouching child allegorically captures the smothered talents of so many African-Americans whose accomplishments lie buried in unwritten histories. The metaphor of the blossoming flower is a reliable symbol for potential eventually realized.

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    SOL MAGAZINE'S 2004 VOLUNTEER STAFF

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