"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