[stylist] Matilda Ziegler Magazine
Lynda Lambert
llambert at zoominternet.net
Sat May 19 12:17:47 UTC 2012
and I received it on casette tape. I really enjoyed the magazine and the
international scope of it, too. I do not bother with it now - just too much
trouble to do it on line.
Lynda Lambert
104 River Road
Ellwood City, PA 16117
724 758 4979
My Blog: http://www.walkingbyinnervision.blogspot.com
My Website: http://lyndalambert.com
----- Original Message -----
From: "John J. Boyer" <john at godtouches.org>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Friday, May 18, 2012 11:31 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Matilda Ziegler Magazine
>I must say that I am personally very disappointed with the Ziegler
> magazine. I had been receiving it in braille for more than forty years.
> Then one month they announced that they were discontinuing everything
> except an online edition. There was no explanation. This was so opposed
> to what I thought the purpose of the magazine was that I couldn't
> believe it and kept looking for my braille copy for a few months. There
> were a lot of international subscribers who depended on the magazine for
> braille material. I think that dropping everything except the online
> edition is contrary to the wishes of Matilda Ziegler herself. I've
> looked at the website a few times, but the magazine has changed. It used
> to be sort of general coverage and even had some articles of scientific
> and technical interest. There was always a story. The last time I looked
> all I could find was articles on blindness, many of them by their own
> employees.
>
> Sad memmories of what once was.
>
> John
>
> On Fri, May 18, 2012 at 09:42:17PM -0400, Ashley Bramlett wrote:
>> Cheryl,
>> Thanks. Email is easier than reading online. I wish they did braille
>> though! Maybe the website will say if they produce it in other formats
>> such
>> as audio or braille.
>>
>> -----Original Message-----
>> From: cheryl echevarria
>> Sent: Friday, May 18, 2012 4:30 PM
>> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
>> Subject: Re: [stylist] Matilda Ziegler Magazine
>>
>>
>> it comes in e-mail format, I know I get it, in fact, they recently did an
>> interview on me back in April.
>>
>> http://www.matildaziegler.com/
>> Cheryl Echevarria
>> Leading the Way in Independent Travel!
>>
>> Cheryl Echevarria
>> http://www.echevarriatravel.com
>> 631-456-5394
>> reservations at echevarriatravel.com
>>
>> For daily updates read our blog at
>> http://www.echevarriatravel.wordpress.com
>>
>> >To: stylist at nfbnet.org
>> >From: loristay at aol.com
>> >Date: Fri, 18 May 2012 16:18:12 -0400
>> >Subject: Re: [stylist] Matilda Ziegler Magazine
>> >
>> >Matilda Ziegler magazine can be gotten online now, I think. It used to
>> >come out in Braille, but the costs got them.
>> > You can check out their website: www.matildaziegler.com
>> >David says the address we found for them might be old, but it is 80
>> >Eighth
>> >Avenue, New York NY 10011
>> >and the phone: 212-242-0263, email blind at verizon.net
>> >Hope some of that is helpful.
>> >Lori
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >-----Original Message-----
>> >From: Ashley Bramlett <bookwormahb at earthlink.net>
>> >To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>> >Sent: Wed, May 16, 2012 7:06 pm
>> >Subject: Re: [stylist] There be Members in this online Mag!
>> >
>> >
>> >How do you get Matilda Ziegler magazine?
>> >What sort of writing is in it?
>> >
>> >
>> >-----Original Message-----
>> >From: Robert Leslie Newman
>> >Sent: Tuesday, May 01, 2012 8:51 AM
>> >To: writers nfb
>> >Subject: [stylist] There be Members in this online Mag!
>> >
>> >(Look for Nancy and Marilyn)
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >This is the Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind
>> >
>> >2012 Poetry Issue
>> >
>> > Table of Contents
>> >
>> > Editor's Note
>> >
>> >Nancy Scott - Advantages of Not Knowing Mirrors William Shake 'N Bake
>> >
>> > - An Epicurean's Epigram Sally Rosenthal - Solace Bunny Maginnis - I
>> >
>> > Saw a Sunset Ann Chiappetta - Appearances Cathy Brotz - Growing Old
>> >
>> > and The Golden Door Valerie Moreno - Wake Up Call Marilyn Brandt Smith
>> >
>> > - The Walk Home Floris Brown - You dressed me in purple Lori Castner -
>> >
>> > Window-shopping Claudia Del Real - Another Day Carol Fleischman -
>> >
>> > Braille Rosetta Brown - A Poem Is Carole Rose - Swinging Rex Leslie
>> >
>> > Howard, Jr. - Force Unseen Abbie Taylor - I Walk Alone Ray Holland -
>> >
>> > The skies I remember Ed Neiman - Meditation on the Memorial Wall Karen
>> >
>> > Crowder - Country Folks James Boswell - Oh Kapten My Kapten Ruth E.
>> >
>> > Coleman - The Promise Keeper Norma A. Boge - Longing Bonnie Rennie -
>> >
>> > Okay I Can't See Kalu Ndukwe - A Third String Gratitude
>> >
>> > For your convenience, each poem is separated by the ## symbol.
>> >
>> > Editors Note: Poetry is literary art, and forces the artist into a
>> >
>> > habit of intricate deliberation as they carefully place words into a
>> >
>> > confined space--like a watchmaker gently laying the gears and springs
>> >
>> > into the body of their work. Every element is meaningful and has a
>> >
>> > defined purpose as they build rhythm and meld to fulfill the function
>> >
>> > of the artist. But where time is static, poetry is like a
>> >
>> > cloud--constantly changing and experienced differently by each
>> > observer.
>> >
>> > I would like to thank everyone who submitted material for this year's
>> >
>> > poetry issue. You have all done a fantastic job.
>> >
>> > Enjoy!
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Nancy Scott - Advantages of Not Knowing Mirrors
>> >
>> > I've forgotten again
>> >
>> >what color
>> >
>> >my clouded eyes are.
>> >
>> >People have said grey,
>> >
>> >but someone said blue once
>> >
>> >and I like the sound of that.
>> >
>> > I want to hear my face's
>> >
>> >laugh lines and heart shape
>> >
>> >and wishful forty-five-year-old skin
>> >
>> >but I don't ask,
>> >
>> >not wanting the sound of truth
>> >
>> >unknowable by touch.
>> >
>> > I can feel
>> >
>> >my Irish-bent nose
>> >
>> >and the breathlessness
>> >
>> >of twenty pounds I should lose.
>> >
>> >But the sound
>> >
>> >of my still-thick hair
>> >
>> >is silver.
>> >
>> > Now isn't that more fun than seeing?
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >William Shake 'N Bake - An Epicurean's Epigram
>> >
>> > Eat what you love, and love be what you eat O you who snack on care's
>> >
>> > perfidious crimes.
>> >
>> >A fool's content lies more with white than wheat, and diet is a symbol
>> >
>> > of the times.
>> >
>> >Love is a dish of gusto-garnished veal, and steak is not outwitted by
>> >
>> > the rest of Cupid's saucy arrows, for his meal contents love's least
>> >
>> > sad labour with the best.
>> >
>> >If low-fat yogurt adds but little spice to salad dressings creamy and
>> >
>> > divine, it is the diet's demons dour device.
>> >
>> >Love and be loved with fat and flavour fine.
>> >
>> >If counting calories you do despise,
>> >
>> >then grab a chocolate milkshake and be wise!
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Sally Rosenthal - Solace
>> >
>> > I brought my mother a dog
>> >
>> >to polish the dullness
>> >
>> >of a nursing home routine and
>> >
>> >make it sparkle
>> >
>> >with Labrador enthusiasm.
>> >
>> > I brought my mother a dog
>> >
>> >to remind her she was the same person
>> >
>> >whose ninety-one years had been graced with canine devotion, from the
>> >
>> > wire-haired terrier of her native England who, being averse to
>> >
>> > grooming, buried his brush in a neighbor's garden, from the mastiffs
>> >
>> > bred and shown by her late sister at Crufts, from the Boston terrier,
>> >
>> > assorted brown mutts, and retired hunting spaniels who had Christmas
>> >
>> > presents under our family tree to the yellow Labrador who, with my
>> >
>> > hand on her harness, deftly guided me through the institutional halls
>> >
>> > on her missions of comfort.
>> >
>> > I brought my mother a dog
>> >
>> >to salve my conscience for
>> >
>> >the care I could not provide
>> >
>> >and to assuage my guilt for
>> >
>> >the luxuries I had at home of
>> >
>> >meals of my own choosing,
>> >
>> >hot cups of tea,
>> >
>> >and quiet privacy.
>> >
>> > I brought my mother a dog
>> >
>> >a few hours before she died.
>> >
>> >As I held her waif-like hand,
>> >
>> >listening to her changing breath and
>> >
>> >bidding her safe travel, I prayed
>> >
>> >the woman in the nursing home bed
>> >
>> >that held no hint of home realized
>> >
>> >I had brought us both a dog.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Bunny Maginnis - I Saw a Sunset
>> >
>> > I awoke in darkness, the hour seemed quite late.
>> >
>> >How long had I been sleeping, I tried to concentrate.
>> >
>> >I must have closed the curtains, that's it, without a doubt.
>> >
>> >Or perhaps, a storm came through and then electricity went out.
>> >
>> >I felt my way across the room and when I found the door, I opened it
>> >
>> > and stood there, bewildered and unsure.
>> >
>> >The birds were sweetly singing and folks were walking by.
>> >
>> >At first I felt fear and anger, and then I began to cry.
>> >
>> >For it was my eyes, I lost my sight I knew it had to be.
>> >
>> >But I felt so alone and frightened, how could this happen to me.
>> >
>> >I cried my God, where have you gone,
>> >
>> >Why have you left me all alone?
>> >
>> >You know on you I will rely,
>> >
>> >But must I be blind until I die?
>> >
>> >And then, in my mind's eye there did appear, A vision bright, and very
>> >
>> > clear.
>> >
>> >A blue sky, puffy clouds, lovely to behold, Surrounded a suspended
>> >
>> > ball of crimson, orange and gold.
>> >
>> >My mind's eye filled with wonder, I shed not one single tear drop.
>> >
>> >For you see, I viewed this lovely scene standing high on a mountain top.
>> >
>> >It was this that made me realize,
>> >
>> >That I could live without my eyes. Though physically they are quite
>> >
>> > blind, I'm not sightless in my mind.
>> >
>> >Whenever a thing I wish to see,
>> >
>> >I activate my memory.
>> >
>> >Yes, that's a day I'll not forget.
>> >
>> >I lost my sight, but, I saw a sunset.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Ann Chiappetta - Appearances
>> >
>> > Once, not long ago
>> >
>> >the details of life consumed me
>> >
>> >Images of wild flowers, riotous colors in a blanket of green were
>> >
>> > picked, not left untouched.
>> >
>> > Dependence on Televised Greek tragedies Indelible Portraits, live
>> >
>> > feeds and last breaths Possessed me.
>> >
>> > Now a sound or smell overrides the lost optical cues Memories ribbon
>> >
>> > the air with Familiar scents Warm, pungent earth after it rains
>> >
>> > Reminders of ripening tomatoes The brace and sting of crisp winter
>> >
>> > wind Recollections of hikes in the snow tipped pines
>> >
>> > The soft, clear tinkle of ice on a windowpane And my husband's
>> >
>> > breathing deep in the night Comforts the troubles Lulls me back to
>> >
>> > sleep ## Cathy Brotz - Growing Old and The Golden Door
>> >
>> > Author's Note: The first poem was written by my grandmother, Katherine
>> >
>> > Gilbert Cullerton, who was blind from Retinitis Pigmentosa. She wrote
>> >
>> > the poem in January 1985. She passed on in January 1988, just shy of
>> >
>> > her 98th birthday.
>> >
>> > The second poem was written by my father, John H. Cullerton, on
>> >
>> > January 16, 1988, the day that his mother passed. He is legally blind
>> >
>> > from Retinitis Pigmentosa and will turn 87 on May 20, 2012.
>> >
>> > Growing Old
>> >
>> >Katherine Gilbert Cullerton
>> >
>> > You'll never know how sad it is,
>> >
>> >What growing old can be like,
>> >
>> >Until you're near the Golden Door.
>> >
>> > My eyes are dim, my hearings's poor;
>> >
>> >The arthritis in my back
>> >
>> >Gets worse with every twist and bend.
>> >
>> > So enjoy yourself while you are young.
>> >
>> >Get the things you can afford.
>> >
>> > My greatest pleasure was helping others And lending a helping hand.
>> >
>> > I have a wonderful family
>> >
>> >And kind friends by the score,
>> >
>> >But I hope it won't be very long
>> >
>> >Before I reach the Golden Door.
>> >
>> > The Golden Door
>> >
>> >by John H. Cullerton
>> >
>> > She sees it now... the Golden Door.
>> >
>> > Slowly, nearer, nearer, nearer,
>> >
>> >Even nearer, nearer more.
>> >
>> > She is there now...
>> >
>> > Then turns to take a final bow,
>> >
>> >And returns to former state,
>> >
>> >Of passing through that Golden Gate.
>> >
>> > We do not know what lies ahead,
>> >
>> >But see her smile as she does tread,
>> >
>> >Along the beauty flower bed.
>> >
>> > She slowly disappears from view,
>> >
>> >As the Golden Door askew
>> >
>> >Gently closes.
>> >
>> > She is gone.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Valerie Moreno - Wake Up Call
>> >
>> > Brooding too long
>> >
>> >in bare branches
>> >
>> >absent vitality
>> >
>> > A touch stirs
>> >
>> >sleeping resolve energy
>> >
>> >time to imagine
>> >
>> > untangle
>> >
>> >unravel stiff boredom and respond-
>> >
>> >universal wake-up call
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Marilyn Brandt Smith - The Walk Home
>> >
>> > I seldom walk this way, but since it's late, The highway tempts me,
>> >
>> > offers smoother tread.
>> >
>> >Approaching from the woods, my traps all set, I see that rain has left
>> >
>> > a silver sheen;
>> >
>> > Lights from a passing car direct my gaze; Am I the first to come upon
>> >
>> > distress?
>> >
>> >Tendrils flutter, motion draws me near.
>> >
>> >A child, a wounded dog, what have we here?
>> >
>> > Hurry home and call for help from town?
>> >
>> >Lift this bundle, see what I can do?
>> >
>> >I touch the unfamiliar, pull away,
>> >
>> >My God! It's only broken bales of hay!
>> >
>> > I murmur thanks, and soon go on my way.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Floris Brown - You dressed me in purple
>> >
>> > In my grim loneliness
>> >
>> >I also want to love
>> >
>> >touch you
>> >
>> >feeling with passion
>> >
>> >the curves of your face
>> >
>> >until I have my picture
>> >
>> >of how I think you
>> >
>> >might look
>> >
>> > your voice, your warm
>> >
>> >presence
>> >
>> >your smell, your footstep
>> >
>> >your laughter, is all I have
>> >
>> >to hold on to
>> >
>> >to know
>> >
>> >you are mine
>> >
>> > your explosions of fury
>> >
>> >your intolerable manner
>> >
>> >of screaming at me
>> >
>> >no patience venom
>> >
>> >the purple dress you always
>> >
>> >clothed me with
>> >
>> >as doctors told
>> >
>> > dimmed my light yesterday
>> >
>> >like the branches of a willow tree
>> >
>> >your dark side
>> >
>> >hovered over me
>> >
>> >clothed me enfolded me
>> >
>> >and I wanted to elope
>> >
>> >away from the dark side in you
>> >
>> > then you give me your shoulder .
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Lori Castner - Window-shopping
>> >
>> > I spent those weeks
>> >
>> >Before each childhood
>> >
>> >Christmas
>> >
>> >Yearning to possess
>> >
>> >The store display.
>> >
>> >I stood in crowds
>> >
>> >And peered through glass
>> >
>> >Unable to afford
>> >
>> >The porcelain doll
>> >
>> >That begged for
>> >
>> >Unconditional love.
>> >
>> >I longed to caress
>> >
>> >Sumptuous blonde curls
>> >
>> >Knowing they would feel
>> >
>> >Soft as down.
>> >
>> >My fingers ached
>> >
>> >To stroke supple skin
>> >
>> >Certain it would prove
>> >
>> >Lifelike and warm.
>> >
>> >Eyes that shut in sleep
>> >
>> >And opened wide in pleasure
>> >
>> >Tantalized and beckoned.
>> >
>> >Each day I stood adoring,
>> >
>> >And anticipated Christmas
>> >
>> >Sure she would be there
>> >
>> >Beneath our tree.
>> >
>> > The year I turned thirteen
>> >
>> >I ceased to hope,
>> >
>> >Too old for dolls,
>> >
>> >Anyway.
>> >
>> >Instead I received
>> >
>> >A synthetic coat
>> >
>> >My parents scrimped
>> >
>> >All year to buy
>> >
>> >And wore it six Decembers
>> >
>> >Against Chicago chill.
>> >
>> > Loving you is like
>> >
>> >Those childhood times.
>> >
>> >I return day after day
>> >
>> >To bask in your smile
>> >
>> >While your eyes look beyond me
>> >
>> >To the nearby crowd
>> >
>> >Or watch your own
>> >
>> >Reflection in the glass.
>> >
>> >Faithfully I wait
>> >
>> >In reverence.
>> >
>> >Eagerly you seek your own.
>> >
>> > I long to relive
>> >
>> >That yuletide season
>> >
>> >When I put aside
>> >
>> >Childish things.
>> >
>> >And gratefully accepted
>> >
>> >A gabardine cloak
>> >
>> >That warmed me in seasons of cold.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Claudia Del Real - Another Day
>> >
>> > Another day
>> >
>> >Has come and gone.
>> >
>> >Yet every day's
>> >
>> >like a new dawn.
>> >
>> > So full of promise,
>> >
>> >So full of life,
>> >
>> >So full of hope
>> >
>> >And sometimes strife.
>> >
>> > Another day
>> >
>> >Has come and gone.
>> >
>> >Yet every day's
>> >
>> >Like a new dawn.
>> >
>> > Love with your heart,
>> >
>> >Live with your soul,
>> >
>> >You'll shed your tears
>> >
>> >And sometimes lose control.
>> >
>> > Another day
>> >
>> >Has come and gone,
>> >
>> >Yet every day's
>> >
>> >Like a new dawn.
>> >
>> > Enjoy your life,
>> >
>> >Conquer your fears,
>> >
>> >And always know,
>> >
>> >These are your best years!
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Carol Fleischman - Braille
>> >
>> > Fog hides the loops and lines of print.
>> >
>> >A hand sails over a sea of dots,
>> >
>> >Letters, words, and sentences flow past.
>> >
>> >Fingers, like a silent ship, read forward.
>> >
>> > A pattern of six dots plots a course.
>> >
>> >The treasure is mine; I know the code.
>> >
>> >Steady fingers ride the waves of dots, Taking me as far as my mind can
>> >
>> > travel.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Rosetta Brown - A Poem Is
>> >
>> > A poem is a bequest to leave behind
>> >
>> >It is a treasure the poet bestows upon mankind The poem is part of the
>> >
>> > creator that can be read and recited many years later
>> >
>> > It is a brief moment in time
>> >
>> >I dedicate it to the reader for it's no longer mine The poem may give
>> >
>> > them some insight Or lessen burdens for some plight ## Carole Rose -
>> >
>> > Swinging
>> >
>> > The swing sits quietly in the early spring sunshine, Waiting for me.
>> >
>> >It has been months since our last voyage together.
>> >
>> >I climb onto the swing
>> >
>> >and grip its warm, strong chains.
>> >
>> >The familiar sense of anticipation returns.
>> >
>> >I swing gently at first
>> >
>> >listening to birdsong
>> >
>> >savoring the cool breeze,
>> >
>> >and then:
>> >
>> >I begin to push harder and swing higher.
>> >
>> >I stand in the seat, my muscles straining, willing myself to soar even
>> >
>> > higher.
>> >
>> >I am oblivious to the other children on the playground.
>> >
>> >I am wild with joy.
>> >
>> >The wind speaks to me.
>> >
>> >My heart is singing
>> >
>> >my smile is radiant.
>> >
>> >The swing is even with the bars.
>> >
>> >I am free!
>> >
>> >I am reaching for the sky!
>> >
>> >I want to kiss the sun, to capture a fleecy cloud!
>> >
>> >Suddenly I realize I can go no higher.
>> >
>> >The swing slows.
>> >
>> >I am spent, yet exhilarated.
>> >
>> >I tumble onto a grassy carpet
>> >
>> >and bury my face in its greenness.
>> >
>> >A swing is just a swing and I am just a child.
>> >
>> >One can only swing so high.
>> >
>> >And yet
>> >
>> >Imagination offers endless possibilities.
>> >
>> >My swing and I will soar again.,
>> >
>> >ever higher until we touch the sky.
>> >
>> >I will kiss the sun,
>> >
>> >I will capture my fleecy cloud.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Rex Leslie Howard, Jr. - Force Unseen
>> >
>> > I come from places far and near.
>> >
>> >I'm a moaning, whispering voice of force.
>> >
>> >I'm not transparent though I am clear, and nature guides my course.
>> >
>> > I bring the world refreshing reprieve, on the hottest days of spring,
>> >
>> > In the Fall I prune away last year's leaves.
>> >
>> >while southbound birds take wing.
>> >
>> > I bring the flurries of whitest snow,
>> >
>> >with the chill of winter days.
>> >
>> >I wonder aimlessly to and fro,
>> >
>> >and sing in ghostly haunting ways.
>> >
>> > I amplify scent when the days grow long; I give waves to the heat and
>> >
>> > shimmer to the light.
>> >
>> >I bring the tune of returning birdsong.
>> >
>> >I'm the sweetness of remembered summer nights.
>> >
>> > I'm an endless cycle not to be undone, always beyond the hands that
>> >
>> > grasp.
>> >
>> >Angry, I can be stopped by no one.
>> >
>> >Even the oceans yield to my task.
>> >
>> > I comfort, enrich, bless and curse
>> >
>> >and spread life around the globe.
>> >
>> >I suck vast waters up when I suffer thirst.
>> >
>> >yielding only to God's control.
>> >
>> > I bring down cities and entire nations, with only a whispering sigh.
>> >
>> >Never tiring and constantly patient,
>> >
>> >I live on though I frequently die.
>> >
>> > I am the one thing physical eyes will never see, And against which
>> >
>> > Mortal man is helpless to defend.
>> >
>> >I am the thing I've been and will always be, I am the awesome force of
>> >
>> > wind.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Abbie Taylor - I Walk Alone
>> >
>> > In favorable weather, I take the sidewalk to the bank, pharmacy, post
>> >
>> > office, jewelry store, card shop, senior center, library.
>> >
>> >My white cane sweeps from side to side in front of me.
>> >
>> >Alone except for the cars that whizz by.
>> >
>> >I find peace of mind.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Ray Holland - The skies I remember
>> >
>> > Beautiful was the deep blue of a clear morning sky Fluffy white clouds
>> >
>> > that floated in every imaginable shape A large white whale followed by
>> >
>> > fluffy cannon balls in the wake A sitting dog begging for scraps of
>> >
>> > food, than falling on his backside A bowling ball disappearing into a
>> >
>> > floating ship Oh those unlimited, wonderful cloud pictures in the
>> >
>> > beautiful blue sky Jet streams that criss-cross the sky on clear
>> >
>> > cloudless days Each day gave off new dramatic scenes as my head turned
>> >
>> > upward to observe them
>> >
>> > Dark stormy clouds in a grey sky that blot out the sun and warn of
>> >
>> > impending bad weather Bright streaks of lightning followed by rolling
>> >
>> > booms of thunder usually followed The bright sun breaking through any
>> >
>> > break in the clouds was and is a never forgotten warmth of nature
>> >
>> > The night sky is a wonder to behold on a clear dark night Stars that
>> >
>> > twinkle and shine as pinpoints of white light are uncountable Each
>> >
>> > night the moon changes its size and brightness Was that a man's face
>> >
>> > that is on the full moon?
>> >
>> >Birds fly, bugs skim and flutter about the sky
>> >
>> > Now without sight all the memories of that greatness above live on in
>> >
>> > my memory
>> >
>> > However, are they still all there?
>> >
>> >There is warmth that flows from above to cover my face and arms Clouds
>> >
>> > and shadows blot out that sunny warmth from my body Today is that
>> >
>> > great sky looking just as I remember?
>> >
>> >Or is it just a nebula,
>> >
>> >Nothing that I now seem to perceive?
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Ed Neiman - Meditation on the Memorial Wall
>> >
>> > Author's Note: A perspective, in reverie, upon a visit to The Vietnam
>> >
>> > Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington D.C., and Remembering my brother,
>> >
>> > Gary Preston Neiman: (1951-1969).
>> >
>> > Diaphanous, incorporeal, wrought of reverie, A soldier's image looms
>> >
>> > in fantasy Over the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in D.C.
>> >
>> >His arms, (as The Wall), extend in earnest plea; And thus perceived,
>> >
>> > the colossal eidolon speaks to me:
>> >
>> > "Serving America, I perished in far-off Vietnam, Bereft of blithesome
>> >
>> > youth's due aspiration.
>> >
>> >Dauntless, facing adversary's pestilential gun, Was I forfeited to
>> >
>> > vicious strife's abomination.
>> >
>> >My arms entreat: Come, see what this war has done!
>> >
>> >As now they stretch inert in resignation."
>> >
>> > These arms are a wall of burnished granite, (black for mourning):
>> >
>> >Poignant is the somber metaphor.
>> >
>> >These arms are a ledger unfolded:
>> >
>> >Grim chronicle of commitment's tariff.
>> >
>> >Names of this war's casualties mortally wounded, (so many treasured
>> >
>> > thousands), Here, with profound tribute, are enduringly told.
>> >
>> > Not all the rain that bathes these gargantuan arms Could fade the
>> >
>> > taint of blood surged from Kinsmen dispatched; Nor could all the
>> >
>> > sunshine that warms their graven panels Disperse the torrent of tears
>> >
>> > shed by those who loved ones here ennobled.
>> >
>> > These arms, downward cant, seem heavy laden, As ponderously burdened
>> >
>> > with eons of precious years unspent.
>> >
>> >These arms are spread like a tormented V, --For venture? . Or for
>> >
>> > Vietnam?
>> >
>> > A V, devoid of conviction, shallow, inverted, signing distress, Like
>> >
>> > flagging wings of a valiant Eagle aggrieved, Or like a shaken Nation's
>> >
>> > countenance woeful shown.
>> >
>> >But yet, A V that strengthens structure, Bulwark 'gainst the surge of
>> >
>> > time and tide's obliteration, Forefending inhumation.
>> >
>> > Oh, this palpable commemoration!
>> >
>> >Its majestic simplicity!
>> >
>> >It's enthralling democracy!
>> >
>> >Its fervent solemnity!
>> >
>> >Pledge of perpetual veneration!
>> >
>> > Meditate upon this stately, humble, Wall.
>> >
>> >Apprehend its pleading call.
>> >
>> >Mute, it speaks with myriad tongues in silence, Despite the stifling
>> >
>> > hand of violence.
>> >
>> >Listen to the eloquence of hush:
>> >
>> >A whisper midst quotidian rush.
>> >
>> >Gaze into deepness 'neath its lustrous sheen, Mirrored in glaze,
>> >
>> > perceived, unseen.
>> >
>> >Touch the singled symbol of address,
>> >
>> >As once was dealt the fond caress.
>> >
>> > Each name here scribed: a history hewn by tragic conflict, --Abridged
>> >
>> > amidst a battle breaking.
>> >
>> >Each cherished soul bethought: a private echo in the heart of its
>> >
>> > beloved, --A throbbing, wistful, aching.
>> >
>> >Each past: some future's fabric weft of sacrifice, --Demand of
>> >
>> > calamitous leave-taking.
>> >
>> > Honor those absent.
>> >
>> >Recall them present.
>> >
>> >Wonder: what if...?
>> >
>> > GRIEVE.
>> >
>> > But these arms, alas, cannot embrace to grant surcease Of sorrow's
>> >
>> > pang, or abate the timeless anguished breath; Nor ever can they,
>> >
>> > tranquil, folded be in pose of peace:
>> >
>> > THESE ARMS, INSENSATE, ARE INELUCTABLY FROZEN by DEATH.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Karen Crowder - Country Folks
>> >
>> > We awaken not to the sound of honking horns, We are not disturbed by
>> >
>> > the constant sound of roaring traffic, The melody of chirping birds
>> >
>> > wakes us from sound slumber The quiet whisper of breezes coming
>> >
>> > through our open windows,
>> >
>> > Early mornings are not nerve jostling with jarring sound of rush hour
>> >
>> > traffic People always rushing down streets to subways and busses In
>> >
>> > the country the smell of growing things fills the air, Unhurried
>> >
>> > people arrive at work content with the gentle chatter of rustling
>> >
>> > leaves and barking dogs.
>> >
>> > Late afternoon horns blare in the mayhem of oncoming traffic People
>> >
>> > wishing to escape the cacophony of city noise, Cars glide home with
>> >
>> > already planted gardens The melody of robins and chickadees greeting
>> >
>> > them as they arrive
>> >
>> > Nighttime falls with city sound of boom boxes and slamming car doors,
>> >
>> > Serenity and rest are hard to find with loud music and sirens The
>> >
>> > peepers chirp, birds serenade us through the evening Sitting on
>> >
>> > porches, we love the tranquility of the country.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >James Boswell - Oh Kapten My Kapten
>> >
>> > Oh Kapten my Kapten, I broke down and cried, Becausse I was bewildered
>> >
>> > by your study guide.
>> >
>> >Oh Kapten my Kapten, directing toward success With MP3 player, FM, and
>> >
>> > GPS.
>> >
>> >Oh Kapten my Kapten, global navigation Your system will point the way
>> >
>> > to my destination.
>> >
>> >Oh Kapten my Kapten, global navigation, Announcing streets in my town
>> >
>> > and across our nation.
>> >
>> >Oh Kapten my Kapten, I need to be aware Of where I am, where I'll go,
>> >
>> > and how I will get there.
>> >
>> >Oh Kapten my Kapten, when I choose to roam, Your voice will declare to
>> >
>> > me How I will get home.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Ruth E. Coleman - The Promise Keeper
>> >
>> > In all the things that have happened to me, God's given me ability to
>> >
>> > see.
>> >
>> >How to make it to the other side,
>> >
>> >Whether I walk, jump, slip or slide.
>> >
>> >He's given me ways to conquer my foes, By sniffing their deception,
>> >
>> > with my keen keen nose.
>> >
>> >So far as attacks,
>> >
>> >I ignore the whacks.
>> >
>> >Like Ziggy and his dog,
>> >
>> >I am victorious in smog.
>> >
>> >Never knowing which way is up,
>> >
>> >My way is made sure by my faithful pup.
>> >
>> >Who is lead by the Powerful unseen Hand, The Lord and Redeemer of
>> >
>> > mortal man; The same who once walked on water, Who healed the sick and
>> >
>> > raised Jairus' daughter.
>> >
>> >Who spit on clay and made the blind to see, Who told His Disciples.
>> >
>> > "Even though they Crucify Me., I'll shake off death on Day Three."
>> >
>> >and His Promise to you and to me,
>> >
>> >"I'm coming again, and ALL WILL SEE!"
>> >
>> >Can we trust Him? Sure we can,
>> >
>> >Even better than sighted man,
>> >
>> >Because we know who leads us, not our dog, He's the One who created
>> >
>> > and sees clearly in the smog.
>> >
>> >He knows where we're going, and our end.
>> >
>> >He's the One Who made us. Jesus, Our Best Friend.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Norma A. Boge - Longing
>> >
>> > When days are dark and the world's so cold And memories are all I have
>> >
>> > to look forward to I think about you, so sweet and so playful And how
>> >
>> > I loved to see the boy inside the man I know you loved me for your own
>> >
>> > reasons And my heart holds a special place for you Time and space
>> >
>> > conspired to keep us apart And I'm sorry fate dealt the hand it did I
>> >
>> > will carry on, as will you, down separate paths And I'll meet you
>> >
>> > where the stars collide ## Bonnie Rennie - Okay I Can't See
>> >
>> > Some say "So sad that you can't see!"
>> >
>> >But that simply seems so silly to me.
>> >
>> >The sights in sounds, in symphony
>> >
>> >So sensational, not to be scrapped or scorned, sincerely!
>> >
>> >I savor the songs, and seriously!
>> >
>> >No room to perceive them, if I could see.
>> >
>> >The shouting sea, the sandy shore,
>> >
>> >The sheltering sunset, who could seek for more.
>> >
>> >The other senses see how to celebrate life.
>> >
>> >Were I to see now, it would surely bring strife.
>> >
>> >So please don't say "sorry" that I can't see.
>> >
>> >Glad to set aside the shallowness
>> >
>> >Love what my heart can see.
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >Kalu Ndukwe - A Third String Gratitude
>> >
>> > Though not a 1st or 2nd string,
>> >
>> >Which the world may call east or west, But my heart truly sing:
>> >
>> >Thanks, thanks for your best,
>> >
>> >Life's battles fiercely fought,
>> >
>> >That the blind everywhere:
>> >
>> >Their joy and independence no more hurt, And peace to all found so
>> >
>> > dear!
>> >
>> >##
>> >
>> >END OF POETRY ISSUE 2012
>> >
>> > This email was sent to rgardner4 at gmail.com.
>> >
>> >If you are no longer interested you can unsubscribe instantly:
>> >
>> >http://swisher.cmail4.com/t/r-u-dkhkkid-fldlthya-r/
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >Robert Leslie Newman
>> >
>> >Personal Website-
>> >
>> >Adjustment To Blindness And Visual impairment
>> >
>> >http//www.thoughtprovoker.info
>> >
>> >NFB Writers' Division, president
>> >
>> >http://www.nfb-writers-division.net
>> >
>> >Chair of the NFB Communications Committee
>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >_______________________________________________
>> >Writers Division web site:
>> >http://www.nfb-writers-division.net
>> ><http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>> >
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>> >
>> >
>> >
>> >_______________________________________________
>> >Writers Division web site:
>> >http://www.nfb-writers-division.net
>> ><http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>> >
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>> >Writers Division web site:
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>> >
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>> _______________________________________________
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>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
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>
> --
> John J. Boyer, Executive Director
> GodTouches Digital Ministry, Inc.
> http://www.godtouches.org
> Madison, Wisconsin, USA
> Peace, Love, Service
>
>
> _______________________________________________
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