"Puzzling" dedicated to my brother

 Puzzling

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020
Dedicated to Jon Blide, 1968-2020

Jigsaw puzzles can be reassuring.
They start as a jumbled mess
but when the last piece is in place
are beautiful and whole.
Much like our own lives
messy, confusing
slow to come together
 beauty concealed
until all is revealed at the end.
 
Now, after a sudden loss,
the puzzle of that person’s life and death
brings us pain, not peace
confusion instead of consolation
shock halts thinking
can’t make sense of the pieces.

Try to sort them out
only a few on the edge
line up.
What about the rest?
Time passes
waiting is rewarded with another piece
more waiting
another piece
we want them all
but time is stingy with pieces. 

When everything has been said
and done
only then will we see
we don’t have all the pieces.

 

We need it all to fit
we want all the answers!
Do we keep searching for pieces
or let go and wait for them to come?

It’s our choice…
regret the gaps or
find the beauty in the partial picture of a loved one's life.

"Waiting for Snow" published in Dec. issue of YCN

 

Waiting for Snow

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

The photo is by editor Stephen Hassler and appears with my poem in Your Country Neighbor. I like his choice of snow geese to pair with my snow poem.

I wrote the Adulthood side of the poem first, thinking about how much I dread winter with its cold and dangerous roads. I try not to let it, but the dread starts to set in at the end of summer and somewhat ruins autumn for me. Then I started thinking about how differently I viewed snow as a child, and the other half of the poem poured out quickly, providing much-needed balance. 

To view the entire Dec. issue, click here: Your Country Neighbor

"Treatless" published in Nov. 20 YCN

Treatless
by Janet Sobczyk, 2020

        Deep in the night I had a dream 
        Woke with a jolt feeling green 
        What does it mean? 

        It was barely dusk on Halloween 
        Too early for the typical teen 
        Deep in the night I had a dream 

        Moms with princess tots waited like queens 
        On front porch undecorated but clean 
        What does it mean? 

        I searched for treats… a tangerine? 
        Half-eaten bunny or stale jelly beans? 
        Deep in the night I had a dream 

        Not much to offer or redeem 
        Cupboard to cupboard, I wanted to scream! 
        What does it mean? 

        I deserved the guillotine 
        Couldn’t the Great Pumpkin intervene? 
        Deep in the night I had a dream 
        But what does it mean?

This was actually a dream I had shortly before Halloween.
It seemed like a good topic to try a villanelle poem format.

Poetry Book Review

This wonderful little book left me in awe!

It was published in 2004 by Helen Frost, a talented poet whose poems are "deceptively casual" according to an online review of her work. So true!!

This book contains poems written in the voices of fictional students in a 5th grade class with a fictional teacher. The people are composites of characters Frost encountered through years as a teacher. The scenarios and trials of the students resonate with my own teacher heart. A quick first read of this "novel in poems from Room 214" was enjoyable, and left me content with the story and voices of the children.  

At the end I was completely satisfied, but then I read the "Notes on Forms" at the back. I could have easily skipped it, but reading it changed my whole impression of this small book.

In my eyes it became a huge accomplishment when I understood that Frost used 22 different poem forms. Twenty-two!! At first glance the poems appear simple, but the Notes explain each form, and leave the reader intrigued to try them. 

Shortly before reading this book I tried creating a villanelle, ghazal, and sonnet with a poetry group. It felt like a major victory to finish them, so I can appreciate the challenge of following strict formats. 

The one that blew my mind was her Crown of Sonnets titled, "It's Hard to Fit In." According to her Notes, a crown is a "set of seven Italian sonnets, linked through repeated lines. The last line of one sonnet is the first line of the next (sometimes with minor variations), and the last line of the last sonnet circles back to the first line of the first sonnet." I had a hard time writing one sonnet poorly, and Frost created seven that fit perfectly together! Mind-blowing! Such a gift!

There's one other reason I'm glad to have read the notes... it pointed out that many of the poems were acrostics, which I had failed to notice. I thumbed through the book again to find them and read with delight all the hidden messages. Such fun!

I highly encourage poetry lovers to check out her website helenfrost.net and this detailed interview and Blog review by Michelle Barnes.  Enjoy!

 

"A Year After the Flood" in Oct. YCN

For our anniversary over Labor Day we returned to one of our favorite spots, the River Inn in Brownville, NE. We had wanted to come in 2019 but the summer flooding prevented it. This time, after so many months at home due to Covid, we especially enjoyed the chance to get away from the city and spend time on the river.

The Inn has a rustic feel yet provides amenities that non-campers like us require: a good bed, nice bathroom, and a hearty breakfast. We took the dinner cruise on the Spirit of Brownville, which gave us a glimpse of the changes brought by the flooding. We talked with other passengers and crew, and heard about the struggles the people of Brownville have faced. 

The next morning as the sun rose over the east bank, I sat on the deck watching the birds. I thought about the dredge upstream that was almost washed away, and the effort it took to save. This poem is a result of those quiet moments alone.

"A Year After the Flood"

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

Fresh foliage creeps over eroded banks

 wild sunflowers bloom as if nothing happened

 but the trees bear scars

 tangled drifted debris whispers the tale.

 The Captain Meriwether Lewis Dredge Museum

 floats secure in its dry-docked moat

 imagine the struggle by tugs, chains, men

 working 16-hour days to contain it in high water.

 It rose, bucking to break free of moorings

 they held on with all their might

 restrained it from a rampage

 prevented catastrophe downstream.

 It rests silent and sullen in its defeat, bested this time

 a little worse for wear, but not broken

 peers from its perch above the now-lazy river

 calls me back to watch the sunrise with it again.

 As swallows dart and eagles soar

 mist rises from the ever-flowing surface

 sun’s rays shoo wisps away

 ushers in a clear day

 washes the dredge in light

 its twin smokestacks stand tall

 white decks await tourists

 kept away by Covid and a damaged road.

 The town waits, too

 it survives as Midwest people tend to do

 shops closed for now

 but restaurant still serves, so does the bar.

 There’s hope as a new store opens

 a sign of growth in a small town

 that understands the damage a river can do

 while it sustains life, too. 

This poem is dedicated to the people of Brownville, 

with gratitude for your hospitality and admiration for your fortitude.

"Stereotype" poem published in Oct. YCN

 Shattering the Stereotype 

Janet Sobczyk, 2020 

The black Harley stands shiny 
next to a grey, dusty Camry
 their drivers and wives vastly different
 on roads that converged
 in this parking lot
 at this Inn
 to open the mind of one of them.

The tanned couple
 in black boots and slim jeans, Harley logo shirts
 tells tales that amaze
 of rallies in towns across many states
 of 30+ years riding close, her front to his back
 avoiding the interstate
 seeing sights that few knew.

The other couple
 in sneakers and extra-large jeans
 not well-traveled, raised five kids
 has little to contribute to this conversation
 of scenes and sights
 and adventure
but curious, keeps asking questions.

 The men have nothing in common
 but the women connect
 share a love of books, including the bible
 both enjoy quiet time with nature
 the biker wife resembles the other’s sister
 who thinks this could have been Sis’s life,
 she would have loved the open road.

 Their differences fade as dusk settles into dark
 they tell of tomorrow’s plans, retreat to their rooms
 meet for breakfast, then
 one couple vrooms away
 to see covered bridges in Madison County
 the other drives to KC
 to see their grandbaby.

Janet with grand-baby Ruth

2 Poems Published in Sept. 2020 YCN

6 a.m. Feeding
By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

Pale pink sky
low clouds 
rustle of wings 
sharp eyes spy seeds 
sharp beak defends 
squabbles rebuff 
push off 
flutter back 
crowd ‘round 
until… 
only shells left.

Back to School After Covid

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

It took courage

 to step in those doors on August 10th

 the doors we last walked through on March 16th

 stunned, struggling to understand

 all our plans evaporated

 in the wake of a mystery illness

 striking randomly

 like an enemy submarine taking out our country’s fleet

 stealthily, swiftly, inciting mass fear.

 One survivor said on the phone 

“My family got Covid, 

I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to teach again.” 

Another teacher texted, 

“I quit after getting Covid, 

I’m praying for you as you return to school.” 

Grateful for her prayers 

I think, with hope, “they survived!” 

against the odds, both were most vulnerable. 

And so did the woman 

I feared wouldn’t make it 

the first documented case in Nebraska 

played basketball at Special Olympics 

against my daughter’s team 

so friendly, talking smack, smiling 

we ate lunch with her 

only God knew she’d soon be 

in critical care for weeks. 

She was vulnerable 

so is my daughter 

and my spouse, and me, scared 

wanting to stay home in a safe bubble 

venturing out for weekly supplies 

content to work remotely, 

study online, video chat 

walk the dog, do yard work 

as sunshine beckons. 

Now summer recedes, duty calls 

ignore the statistics and news 

gather strength for a new journey 

re-enter a school familiar 

but profoundly changed 

interact with people in person again 

anxiety’s high 

but there’s comfort, too 

a team working for a good cause. 

August 17th, it’s showtime! 

the stage is set, protocols in place 

to welcome brave students 

with bright eyes and masked smiles 

wanting to hug, holding back 

they line up at arms’ length 

thrilled to see friends again 

but nervous knowing the danger 

one pukes and goes home. 

The day is filled with teaching 

routines, new rules, not much math 

sanitizing, washing hands 

taking temps three times a day 

sanitizing, washing hands 

the students tire, barely speak 

teachers talk all day behind masks 

feel claustrophobic, dehydrated 

everyone goes home exhausted. 

The week flies by 

students stagger in, not used to early rising 

one quarantined Zooms 

his face on iPad carried from class to class 

strange, but our new normal 

Wednesday feels like it should be the weekend 

we keep calm, carry on 

by Friday we all heave a sigh of relief 

we made it through the first week!

Click here to see the September issue of Your Country Neighbor.

"A Dying Barn" published in YCN Aug. 2020

A Dying Barn

by Janet Sobczyk, 2020

Abandoned barn amid neatly tilled rows

 red paint worn down to gray wood

 decrepit boards broken, sagging

 vines creep up sides, to pitch of roof

 appear to hold the structure together

 wrap it in a soft green blanket

 shingles blown off in patches

 let setting rays shine through

 an orange sunburst

 like the last breath of life

 leaving an old man’s skeletal frame

 soul’s glow resilient, ascends

 follows the directional arms of steel weathervane

 its silhouette forming a cross

 pointing the way heavenward.

I wrote this poem when I saw a photo of a dilapidated barn covered in ivy with sunlight gleaming through its holes. I don't have permission to use that photo so Stephen Hassler, editor of Your Country Neighbor, was kind enough to find a great one of his own to pair with my poem. Many thanks!

Click here to read the Aug. 2020 issue of YCN

2 Poems Published in "Screamin' Mamas"

Screamin' Mamas highlighted my poetry in their Fall 2020 issue. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for their beautiful work.

Back Cover 
This poem is reprinted with permission from YCN, Aug. 2018

First Page

Front Cover
This photo ties in with the poem on page 1.

Click here to see the whole issue of Screamin' Mamas, Fall 2020.

"Unearthed" published in July 2020 YCN

Unearthed

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

Spring weeds popped up

 ‘round the stone bench

 she sat, plucked, yanked

 dug out the roots

 tap, tap, what’s that?

 trowel hit rock

 wait, more than that

 brushed away dirt

 it’s mosaic!

 a stepping stone

 blue birds in flight

 pale pink flowers

 she sat in awe

 examined it

 perfect for her

 love of nature

 felt like a gift

 buried treasure

 from Mother Earth

 or previous

 owners long gone.

Click here to read Your Country Neighbor

"Grandma's Library" published in June YCN

Grandma's Library

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

“If you build it they will come” 

says a movie quote that’s wise 

but for my new home 

not a Field of Dreams did I devise 

but a space for grandchildren 

someday, to play and read. 

Built before the first was born 

white shelves with books old and new

 tubs for toys, a rocking horse

 a rack with dress-up clothes, too 

while visions of happy children

 danced through Grandma’s head.

Click here to read Your Country Neighbor

NWG Author Chat interview and poetry reading

Thanks for tuning in to the live show! 

If you missed it you can still view it on Youtube (click here).

Interviewer Victorine Lieske and  guest Janet Sobczyk on NWG Author Chat, 6-4-2020.

I want to thank best-selling author/interviewer Victorine Lieske 
for making this a fun experience.
 Also, a big hug of gratitude to everyone who asked questions, made comments on Facebook, and sent me encouraging texts. 
I had fun! Hope you did, too.

"Spring Plays Peek-a-Boo" published in YCN, May 2020

Photo by Stephen Hassler, editor of Your Country Neighbor

   

Spring Plays Peek-a-Boo

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

The weather is a popular topic for people all over the country, but I suspect Midwesterners can one-up most weather conversations.  In the Midwest we have four distinct seasons which change not only every few months but often several times a day. I’m not sure other parts of the country have those bragging rights.  

I was born in Arizona and my weather memories there range from sunny and warm to sunny and beastly hot. I remember one December there was a trace of snow that melted immediately. Everybody in the neighborhood was outside snapping black and white photos.  

Here in the Midwest we know what to expect from three out of four of the seasons. In summer it’s hot or stormy. In fall it’s crisp and beautiful or rainy and gray. In winter it’s long, cold, and can be measured in inches.  

During winter there can be a day or two of spring-like weather, usually in February. Then the next day a blizzard strikes and people grumble because they had false hope that it would be spring soon. But spring plays games with us. All through March and April it peeks in to make an appearance… and then winter hip-bumps it off the stage. Spring doesn’t give up. It sneaks around the curtain and tries to steal the spotlight, until jealous winter notices again. The game is on!  

In spring people are excited to plant flowers and gardens, but don’t be fooled! There’s a rule that I’ve ignored too often: wait until after Mother’s Day to do the planting. I’ve thought that a few warm days in a row were the start of spring. Time to plant my geraniums and put away the parkas! Two days later, “Wrong again,” I think, making a mad dash to bring in the flowers and dig out the coats.  

I’ve seen people leave the house in shorts and flip flops in March and April after a couple nice days, thinking it would be hot by noon. Nope! At the end of the day they come home to make soup and wear fuzzy socks with flannel pj’s for a few more nights.    

Even nature gets fooled. The daffodils and crocuses rise up demanding to be the first to show off
their finery, only to get hit by frost and slump miserably to the ground. Robins return, grow round-bellied, and start to build nests. Then bam! They get slammed by a snow shower and huddle together glaring, as if to say, “Whose idea was it to come back this early?!”        

I truly feel sorry for them. Mother Nature leads them astray year after year. Birds are so gullible.


Click here to see Your Country Neighbor's May edition online

Haibun published in May 2020 issue of YCN

Images of Corona: 

A modern haibun, which blends haiku images with prose 

Janet Sobczyk,  © 2020

Photos on Facebook 

creative ways to pass time 

connect with others.

Since we have to self-isolate and quarantine, people are trying to connect any way they can. We need to pass the time in constructive ways to avoid cabin fever. Parents are trying to work and school at home, and keep kids entertained. Social media has become more important than ever. Daily posts spread hope, provide news, and share photos of creative project ideas.

Restaurants are closed 

store shelves are bare, items rare, 

uncertainty reigns.

Going to the store feels like going into a war zone one minute and perfectly normal the next. Certain items are absent from shelves or in limited supply: toilet paper, Clorox wipes, tissues, rubber gloves, face masks. But other shelves look totally normal. In some aisles people may be casually shopping, keeping distance. In others there might be a dash and struggle for the last of something. Questions hover… so far the food supply is holding up, but for how long?

People at home cook 

have more time and less fast food 

eat meals together.

For modern American families who were constantly on the go, this time of isolation is a rare opportunity to slow down and enjoy cooking again. Or simply enjoy eating dinner together again… at a table instead of in the car dashing somewhere. It’s the silver lining of this pandemic.

Images on news 

rows of caskets, no mourners, 

waiting to be moved.

The photos from Italy and China, and even around the US, are chilling. Patients lie in rows on gurneys in crowded hospitals. Freezer trucks are parked at the back doors to hold those who pass because mortuaries are overflowing. Rows of plain wooden caskets, mass produced in a hurry, are full and waiting for cremation. Services can’t be attended by groups of mourning families and friends. Funerals have become small private affairs with little closure and no comfort. Shock chokes onlookers into silence.

Turn off the TV 

gather on couches to pray 

hope death passes by.

It feels like we’re Israelites during the first Passover, trying to escape the plague. They huddled in homes with lambs blood on their doorposts, hearing the wails of Egyptian mourners, praying to be spared.

Springtime… grass greens up 

bushes bud, flowers bloom and

 sunshine gives us hope.

We can’t dwell on the fear for long without going crazy. Thank goodness corona came as winter is ending. People and pets are taking walks to enjoy spring weather and to clear dark thoughts. Evidence of new life keeps us going. Look around. People are still getting married, babies are still being born. Nature gives us hope.


Click here to view the May 2020 online edition of Your Country Neighbor

"Immigrant Dandelions" Published in Your Country Neighbor, April 2020

This beautiful sculpture stood in the Joslyn Museum's indoor fountain for many years,
then it was transplanted to an Omaha Public Library lobby where I took this photo.
I'm not sure what the artist intended, but it looks like a dandelion to me! 

Immigrant Dandelions

by Janet Sobczyk, 2018

They arrived, precious cargo

in the baggage of colonists

settling America

with high hopes for the future.

They emerged from careful wrappings

were planted, nurtured

used as food, medicine

and to prevent erosion.

Native Americans

learned their value

saw their versatility

appreciated their uses.

Now they are reviled

a blight on manicured lawns

weeds to be eradicated

by hand or chemical.

They defy extinction

multiplying quickly

migrating across the land

on gusts of untamed wind.

Little children are their allies

still blowing seeds

offering yellow blossoms

with innocent smiles.

Valued plant

or invasive pest

depends on your perspective

what does your eye behold?

Click here to read Your Country Neighbor

"Envisioning Forgiveness" published today

My personal narrative was posted on BraidedWay.org today. I was blown away by the beautiful photos they found that illustrate this piece perfectly. Thanks, Braided Way staff!

And thank you, editor Laura Grace Weldon, for your kind words, "We hope the generous spirit shown in your work is a comfort to our readers."

You can read the entire piece here: Envisioning Forgiveness or go to braidedway.org.

"Checkmate in Church" published in a new book

Just in time for Valentine's Day... the story of how Tom and I met. 💗

Thanks, Yvonne Lehman, for including another of my stories in your latest book. 🥰
Click here to see Romantic Moments on Amazon. $16.99

"The Powdered Sugar Donut" published

This poem about love was published in the Feb. 2020 issue of Your Country Neighbor. The photo only appears here.

The Powdered Sugar Donut ❤

By Janet Sobczyk, 2020

She didn’t know

how could she? 

of my aversion

powdered sugar donuts

so sweet 

too sweet in fact

puff of powder 

‘tween teeth 

makes me shiver

fine white flakes 

dust shirt 

stick to fingers

but more than textures

the memory 

vivid from youth

my half-eaten donut

filled with 

tiny black ants!

still don’t touch ‘em

how could I? 

why would I?

until special daughter 

picks one 

smiling just for me.

how could I not?

innocent eyes 

I eat it for love.

❤

"I Just Want to Hibernate" published

This article was published in the Feb. 2020 issue of Your Country Neighbor, but the photo is only shared here.

My Midwest-born kids enjoying winter (almost 20 years ago!) 

It happens every year. During the months of January to March I just want to hibernate. I was born in Arizona, uprooted at age 4 for relocation to Iowa, and have struggled with winter ever since. Well, in my youth I thought snow was pretty fun sometimes, but I always dreaded the cold. When I became old enough to drive in it, snow entirely lost its appeal. And now that I’m nearing the retirement years, I can barely tolerate it.

I read something, can’t remember where, that encouraged humans to embrace our inner urge to hibernate. It made it sound like a natural inclination as a way to get through fewer hours of daylight, so why fight it? It reinforced my desire for stews, carbs, blankets, and more zzz’s. It made me feel “normal” while living amongst hardy Midwesterners born and raised in this climate.

I hoped to locate that source to quote it for this article, but I couldn’t find it. Instead my internet search yielded a staggering array of articles on hibernation. They were all fascinating and sometimes totally opposed to each other.
 

Several articles linked our desire to hibernate to Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and gave a long list of symptoms and how to cope. Actually, I found those very helpful. Other articles mentioned “cabin fever,” but in general they suggested we fight the urge to sleep more or overeat.

Some experts say that humans have a latent ability to hibernate when given the right conditions, like less light and cooler temperatures (a.k.a. winter). There are examples of humans who survived avalanches (in one case in Japan up to 24 days!) because their bodies responded with hibernation-like responses. Some scientists say extended hibernation in humans is impossible because our hearts lack the animal hibernators’ ability to pump excess calcium out of our systems when asleep for long periods. And they warn that extended sleep affects brain function and memory, not in a good way.

Other articles explained how mastering hibernation could be helpful. In fact, hospitals already use medically-induced comas to help patients survive horrendous injuries. The comas usually involve cooling down the blood stream, which mimics hibernation.

Ideas for human hibernation can be out of this world. Literally. Scientists are researching how to induce hibernation for space travel. Sci-fi movies make it look easy but it’s complicated. There are always after-effects of traveling in space and returning to gravity. With hibernation there are also immunity and organ issues that can be life-threatening. Imagine losing a whole crew of hibernating humans after they awaken.

I was fascinated as well as repulsed by the ideas and methods being explored. Do the benefits outweigh the risks? NASA scientists seem to think so because they continue to search for answers. But count me off the guinea pig list for those research studies. I can barely survive a Midwest winter.

"My Van Has White Coat Syndrome" published

This article was published in Your Country Neighbor, Jan. 2020: 

My Van Has White Coat Syndrome 

© 2019 by Janet Sobczyk, 

It’s a common complaint. You’ve been feeling sick or something hurts, but by the time you actually get to a doctor, you feel better. That’s called White Coat Syndrome (WCS). Actually, doctors use that term more specifically for elevated blood pressure while in the doctor’s office. But the first definition is the one most other people think it means.

People are the most prone to WCS, but I’ve seen pets have it too. Fido might seem on his last legs at home, but as soon as you pull up to the vet clinic, he hops right out and trots in like, “Look at me. I’m fine.”

My van now has it. I’m not kidding! The other day it started making a horrible sound all the way home from work. For 30 minutes it rattled so loud I thought a front tire was going to fall off. Except the sound wasn’t coming from the wheel area. And it made a metallic “ding, ding” sound like a chain swinging and hitting metal. I made an appointment with the mechanic for the next morning and prayed I’d make it there intact.

You guessed it.The next morning the big sound was gone. And the ding-ding, too. But I took it in anyway and described what had happened. An hour later they ended my waiting-room misery (whoever chose CNN for that TV was sadistic!) and told me they’d found nothing wrong. Of course!

Then the mechanic reassured me that old vehicles do have a lot of rattles. Well, I guess a 16-year-old vehicle does qualify as old. Maybe I was over-reacting. And then he told me that next time they would need more detail, like at what speed does it make the sound? Or when you turn in which direction? Really, it just made the awful, death-sounds the whole way home. But that was yesterday, and today it seemed just fine. Good! I had errands to run.

The van ran perfectly (with only its usual rattles) all the rest of that day. But the next day, yep! The noises returned, complete with ding-dings. Maybe I’ll have to call a driveway mechanic who can sneak up on the van and check it out before it knows what’s happening.

Image from Creative Commons:  capthttps://live.staticflickr.com/3108/2658510318_8421f09541_m.jpgion