In July YCN published "Trespassing" and "De-feathering My Nest." Thanks for allowing me so much space, Editor Stephen Hassler!
"Trespassing" is my blog's featured post this month, but "De-feathering My Nest" is too long to reprint here.
Please check out the complete issue online at:
http://www.yourcountryneighbor.com/YCN/July2018.pdf.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Poems published in YCN in June
The June issue of Your Country Neighbor contains 2 of my poems:
This is a syllabic poem (3 per line.) When I tapped it out upon completion, it reminded me of the hoof beats of a galloping horse. I'd like to say that was intentional, but it wasn't. I just like to write that way sometimes. But for this poem it's appropriate!
They Feel Like Summer
by Janet Sobczyk, ©2017
Buff leather
two-inch heels
finger loops
pointy toes
bring to mind
days of youth.
Sweet sixteen
cut-off jeans
halter tops
no sunscreen
wind in hair
horse-back rides.
Middle age
walking tall
with tan dog
slower now
wearing new
cowboy boots.
The next poem, in couplets, was written after a drive to the store recently. It was a windy day and when I stopped for a red light I noticed this scene. It stuck with me, so I had to write it down.
Wind on the Wire
by Janet Sobczyk, ©2018
Three brown birds
perch on an electric wire
two snuggle close
one stays inches away
all cling fast, feet clasp
holding on
facing the wind
wings firmly folded
gray tail feathers dip
enduring the gusts
weathering the storm
riding like bronco busters.
I wonder, Why
stay?
Why don’t they find shelter?
Maybe they enjoy the thrill-ride
of wind on the wire.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
Poems published in YCN in May
These 2 poems appear in the May issue of Your Country Neighbor. I love the spider and flag photos that accompany them, as well as all the other poetry. Check it out!
The Irony of Spider Webs
by Janet Sobczyk, ©2011
Sometimes I stand in wonder
at the spider web
woven overnight
between car and bush.
I stop to examine it,
sturdy and sticky enough
to catch the largest insects,
but dainty and sparkly,
beautiful, symmetrical.
Could easily be ruined
by the swipe of a mean broom.
Sometimes I simply marvel
at the swift acrobatics
and skill of the small spider
who crafted this masterpiece,
and rests at the far edge
waiting for food to be snared,
then springs into action
like a small cowboy roping,
wrapping the victim in silk.
I ponder the poor fly’s plight…
it is the circle of life.
Sometimes I don’t see the web,
and walk right through it!
It stretches beyond limits,
instantly adheres to skin.
I cringe from the shock of it,
dance around peeling strands
in sheer disgust.
The invisible silk sticks
in hair, on fingers.
Recoil in fear, just think…
the spider might be on me!
At a Veteran’s Graveside Service
By Janet Sobczyk ©2017
In memory of Tom Otto of Norfolk, NE.
We step amid headstones, through parallel rows
a motorcycle honor guard in Harley vests
holds stars and stripes on long poles.
Mourners gather under a green canvas tent
with bowed heads we listen to a final blessing
carried away by the wind.
With focus downward, I notice shoes:
brown penny loafers
white shiny flats
black stilettos digging divots
blue sandals with matching toenails
tan boots with camo pants tucked in.
A yellow butterfly weaves on the breeze
amidst legs, alights on flowers
cascading over the casket.
“Taps” begins to play
but the bugle sounds tinny
I turn to see a seasoned vet in dress blues.
Holding horn to lips with white-gloved hand
he isn’t playing
it’s a recording.
When done he lowers the bugle
discreetly turns off device in its bell
and salutes.
A son of the vet takes roses off the casket
hands them to women with hugs and tears
the crowd disperses.
Car doors slam
tires crunch on gravel
as the line snakes through the gate.
At home, my red rose
stands silently in a simple vase
and wilts.
The Irony of Spider Webs
by Janet Sobczyk, ©2011
Sometimes I stand in wonder
at the spider web
woven overnight
between car and bush.
I stop to examine it,
sturdy and sticky enough
to catch the largest insects,
but dainty and sparkly,
beautiful, symmetrical.
Could easily be ruined
by the swipe of a mean broom.
Sometimes I simply marvel
at the swift acrobatics
and skill of the small spider
who crafted this masterpiece,
and rests at the far edge
waiting for food to be snared,
then springs into action
like a small cowboy roping,
wrapping the victim in silk.
I ponder the poor fly’s plight…
it is the circle of life.
Sometimes I don’t see the web,
and walk right through it!
It stretches beyond limits,
instantly adheres to skin.
I cringe from the shock of it,
dance around peeling strands
in sheer disgust.
The invisible silk sticks
in hair, on fingers.
Recoil in fear, just think…
the spider might be on me!
At a Veteran’s Graveside Service
By Janet Sobczyk ©2017
In memory of Tom Otto of Norfolk, NE.
We step amid headstones, through parallel rows
a motorcycle honor guard in Harley vests
holds stars and stripes on long poles.
Mourners gather under a green canvas tent
with bowed heads we listen to a final blessing
carried away by the wind.
With focus downward, I notice shoes:
brown penny loafers
white shiny flats
black stilettos digging divots
blue sandals with matching toenails
tan boots with camo pants tucked in.
A yellow butterfly weaves on the breeze
amidst legs, alights on flowers
cascading over the casket.
“Taps” begins to play
but the bugle sounds tinny
I turn to see a seasoned vet in dress blues.
Holding horn to lips with white-gloved hand
he isn’t playing
it’s a recording.
When done he lowers the bugle
discreetly turns off device in its bell
and salutes.
A son of the vet takes roses off the casket
hands them to women with hugs and tears
the crowd disperses.
Car doors slam
tires crunch on gravel
as the line snakes through the gate.
At home, my red rose
stands silently in a simple vase
and wilts.
Monday, April 2, 2018
Poems Published in YCN in April
These 2 springtime poems, as well as an abbreviated version of "Pops of Red," appear in Your Country Neighbor, April 2018.
Black Jelly Beans
by Janet Sobczyk ©️2018
Grocery shopping
colorful Easter display
bag of black jelly beans.
Pick it up
sorrowful smile
clutching memories.
Used to buy these
only for Mom
no one else liked them.
Now she’s gone
still tempted to buy them
set the bag down.
Slowly walk away
Easter’s not the same
without black jelly beans.
Black Jelly Beans
by Janet Sobczyk ©️2018
 |
| No black jelly beans. And by the day after Easter, no chocolate. |
colorful Easter display
bag of black jelly beans.
Pick it up
sorrowful smile
clutching memories.
Used to buy these
only for Mom
no one else liked them.
Now she’s gone
still tempted to buy them
set the bag down.
Slowly walk away
Easter’s not the same
without black jelly beans.
Holes
by Janet Sobczyk ©️2016
It’s
hard to enjoy
tromping
through
fresh
fallen snow
on
a brisk winter’s day
when
there’s a hole in your boot.
It’s
impossible to enjoy
the
pitter patter of raindrops
or
the melting snows
of
springtime
when
there’s a hole in your roof.
It’s
difficult to enjoy
the journey
to
a
long-planned vacation
or
family reunion
when
there’s a hole in your tire.
It’s
bittersweet to enjoy
daily
blessings
joyful
happenings
and
tender moments
when
there’s a hole in your heart.
Saturday, March 3, 2018
A Silent Retreat in Winter
This was recently published in the March 2018 issue of Your Country Neighbor,
a rural Nebraska newspaper that I enjoy reading. Check it out online!
 |
| Peaceful reading room at St. Benedict Retreat Center in Schuyler, NE |
A Silent Retreat in Winter
by Janet Sobczyk, 2018
“An oasis of silence”
pamphlets proclaim
nestled into a Nebraska plain
quiet beckons
I answer the call
to a weekend of introspection.
Brick walls secure amid
brown native grasses
whispering secrets into the wind
tell of burdens unloaded
by troubled humans seeking
rest, and answers.
Martin houses stand empty
trees shiver naked
evergreens form an honor guard
flagpole ropes clap a rhythm
an azure sky longs for
the return of birds.
Inside, silence reigns
voices turn to lowest volume
carpeting hushes footsteps
windows encourage day dreaming
artwork begs a long look
chapel awaits with magnetic pull.
At meals, utensils clink
self-consciously against plates
conversation in the kitchen
intrudes through opening door
ears perk at the sudden sound
napkins dab satisfied mouths.
People arise
smiling their goodbyes
walk wordlessly to solitary nooks
or meander pathways
around a half-frozen pond
created for reflection.
Time tells me to leave
but heart wants to stay
reading, writing, praying, listening
heals the stress
clears the head
sends me on my way.
I wrote this while attending the January 2018 women’s silent guided retreat at St. Benedictine Retreat Center in Schuyler, Nebraska.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Pops of Red
During January and February, I yearn for spring, which seems so far
away. The flower show at the Cathedral remedied my blues this weekend. I
especially enjoyed the accents of red florals and berries, placed in stark
contrast to the white lily and hydrangeas in this photo.
Gradually other pops of red entered my thoughts, and a list of
couplets resulted. Some are commonplace and others fanciful. My mind’s eye revels in the reds!
Can you think of more?
Pops of Red
By Janet Sobczyk, 2018©
Like a magnet, my eye is drawn to a pop of red,
regardless of emotion, that’s where it’s led.
A male cardinal
on a snow-blanketed branch
A Flexible Flyer sled
at the crest of a hill
A first-to-show tulip
in a spring flowerbed
A poppy umbrella
on a gray rainy day
A freshly-painted barn
in acres of green
A cluster of bright balloons
in an azure sky
A spray of fragrant roses
on a polished casket
A potted geranium
on a wooden porch
A maroon door
on a white house
A meandering ladybug
on an open window sill
A cherished Valentine
on a crowded nightstand
A queen of hearts
in a handful of spades
A splash of burgundy
on a lace tablecloth
A Jonathan apple
in a basket of bananas
A red M&M
in a bowl of peanuts
A long-stemmed cherry
on a hot fudge sundae
A wedge of watermelon
on a flimsy paper plate
A garnish of berries
on sliced angel food
A splotch of ketchup
on a satin blouse
A set of manicured nails
around a steaming mug
A deep coral lipstick
on winter-paled skin.
A crimson wool coat
in a crowded church
An auburn ponytail
in a group of blondes
A single red carnation
on a black lapel
A ruby pendant
on a strand of pearls
A pair of scarlet stilettos
below a skinny black dress
A candy apple Corvette
in a row of silver sedans
Saturday, January 6, 2018
"Natural Order" a poem in five parts
This NE Writers Guild anthology was released in late December. I feel honored to have been included in it.
The four-page poem, "Natural Order," is about my five children.
Birth order and it's impact on personalities is the basis for the subtitles of the five parts. The "natural" part of it refers to things found in nature (a dandelion, a fawn, a cheetah, a dolphin, and a caterpillar) that are metaphors for each of my unique children.
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