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Distilled Lives: Volume 7
Biennial Anthology of the Illinois State Poetry Society
Co-editors: Lennart Lundh and Marjorie Rissman
Cover and Interior Design by Kathy Lohrum Cotton
138 Poems ~ 146 pages
Price: $12.00
Publisher: Kindle Direct Publishing
ISBN #: 9798333330475
To Order: Amazon.com
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
The incomparable Gwendolyn Brooks, Illinois Poet Laureate, from 1968-2000, inspired the title of the Illinois State Poetry Society’s biennial anthology. For Brooks, life was literally and spiritually “distilled” by poetry. Coming on in an age of marked racial bias, Brooke’s gift to the world of letters was a legacy that continues to bear witness to poetry’s power in life. Synonyms for the word distilled yield a mix of intriguing terms: “culled,” “refined,” “cleansed,” among numerous others.
Co-editors Lennart Lundh and Marjorie Rissman demonstrate an affinity for Brooke’s poetic legacy. They have culled, refined, and distilled from scores of submissions, the best poems from ISPS’s stable of talented writers. This reviewer will highlight poems that put feet to President Mary Beth Bretzlauf’s description of society members: “We are young and old, a mosaic of colors and backgrounds–and we all have poetry in our DNA–and that makes us a family.”
“Tender Toss” by Arthur Voellinger delighted me with its toddler antics:
Anyone thinking
a kiss is just a kiss
is remiss
Especially if
never having seen
a toddler in action
By touching lips
with fingertips
and throwing bliss
To an eager
adult ready
to catch and
never miss
Voellinger’s serendipitous rhymes are a perfect fit for how toddlers behave.
Accomplished poets have a way of “cutting to the chase,” [forgive the cliché, please!] and otherwise showing life for what it is. By the time I reached the last line of John Gordon’s, “Singular Choice,” it reminded me too much, of myself:
He could not sing, dance, or act, compose,
at pressure time, he always froze.
What was begun, he’d not complete,
each time his effort met defeat.
Seeds of success so poorly sown,
weeds of despair, all that he’d grown.
Of others’ talents, he’d complain.
Their finest work brought his disdain.
So eager to point out each flaw,
his stinging words engendered awe.
He loved insulting everyone,
their egos bruised, when he was done.
Some struggle choosing their careers,
fret dawn to dusk, best by fears.
His one true skill, words harsh, acidic,
made it easy, he’s a critic.
Mardelle Fortier, adapts this winsome gem from a classic work by Shakespeare:
Midnight and Lady MacBeth
Round the castle still I go,
dreams and schemes and hidey-ho.
Just sleepwalking with my dagger
around a cold dark hall I stagger.
What’s this fountain, gushing blood?
Where’s my servants–stop that flood.
Eye of newt and tongue of bear.
Oops, nearly fell down a stair.
Hidey-ho! Guilt to the hilt,
never will I be said to wilt.
Candle lights up castle keep.
I’d kill to get one night of real sleep.
Jennifer Dotson, an avowed lover of avant-garde poetry forms, highlights her skill in “Reading a Great Book, an Ovillejo”:
Drama’s heart is where conflict lives.
Some narratives
consume my brain, my soul,
swallow me whole.
Stormy seas have heroines tossed
and I’m lost
Reading literature has its cost–
sleepless nights and my eyeballs burn
because there is another page to turn.
Some narratives swallow me whole and I’m lost.
For the curious: The Ovillejo is of Spanish origin. It is comprised of ten lines of three rhyming couplets and a quatrain which scans: abba. The Editor.
In a superb use of irony, Carole R. Bolinski avers why “I Will Never Get a Bird Feeder.” Her neighbor has one. Carole gets to “watch them bound and rebound. / Orate to each other. / The cardinals, flamboyant–flashy, / remind me of rainbows.” For all of that, “I will never get a bird feeder / because–to me–the worst thing / is to have someone rely on you / when you’re no longer there.” Your reviewer has never thought of “birds” and feeding them in quite that way.
You won’t want to miss “Boomers” by Susan Spaeth Cherry. I am one of those! Susan’s poem helps me face the reality of my thinning hair, the inky patches on my skin, and reduced stamina, among other things. Cherry’s tongue-in-cheek sarcasm is seasoned with love.
Most writers will affirm that reviewing anthologies is our greatest challenge. Too many decisions about what to include or pass over! So many worthy poems. Wherever I landed in ISPS’s Distilled Lives: Volume #7, I found a memorable poem. So will you.
William Marr envisions a “Kingdom of Poetry” in which:
even the most powerful kingdom
has borders
yet this ambitious poet
wants to have a borderless kingdom
of broad sea and unlimited sky
that has no ports of entry or walls
anyone can come and go
without a passport
a kingdom built with
alphabetic characters
white clouds and gentle breezes
red flowers green grasses and trees
chirping singing and shouting
of insects birds and children
and most of all
the limitless and shadowless
love
To this I say, “Amen, Amen, and Amen.”
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