Hope you’ll join me at my very first reading of poetry from my collection — Moody Gardens — Thursday, Feb. 7, from 7 pm to 10 pm at the very cool African Fiesta Cafe, 1830 George Dieter for art, food, and fun. Artist Erika Martinez will also be there to show some of the work she has for sale. Click below for more details. Hope to see you there!
David Davis, author of A Rose Blooms in Alaska, has just shared two of his short stories dealing with war and PTSD. Dave’s latest publication in the El Paso Herald Post includes two stories written in a raw, emotional style that will grab you and make you think twice about war.
Although Dave heads several local businesses and teaches at the local college, his true talents lie in the area of storytelling. I hope you’ll take the time to read his work. You won’t be disappointed.
I invite you to read my latest publication in the online magazine Better than Starbucks. It’s a sonnet called “Cinema Park.” But it’s hardly an archaic form.
The sonnet form typically has 14 lines and usually 10 syllables written in iambic pentameter. I bet you hardly notice it here in my nostalgic poem at the drive-ins of old.
My poem about the old drive-ins called “Cinema Park” was just republished in the online magazine called Better Than Starbucks. You can read it here!
Dear friends,
Let’s not forget this day in history when the U.S. was forced to enter World War II. My father could have died there, young. He was on the battleship the USS Arizona just two years before the attack. Luckily, he transferred to submarines. More than a thousand men were not so lucky. My father had known most of them.
Here is something I wrote following a visit to Pearl Harbor. The memorial is a solemn, impressive place.
USS Arizona Memorial Bombs smoke fire sirens raid The harbor watchman stares with barnacle eyes. Watch your step, lap lap of healing waves. “Chip! Scott! This is like a church, a wake.” So the busload of tourists descends upon the site. Bombs smoke fire sirens raid Crisp white starch, crewcut sailor salutes the brave where number three turret below the surfaces lies. Watch your step, lap lap of healing waves. So much rust, there’s so much rust the seas have made how can that rainbow of oil from the engine rise? Bombs smoke fire sirens raid My heart stands at attention, someone reeks of Jean Nate while families shoot their photos and eat their fries. Watch your step, lap lap of healing waves. Oh, Hurricane Pearl, fling the hull from the base— honor the dead with a burial at sea, high tide. Bombs smoke fire sirens raid watch your step, lap lap of healing waves. ––Susan Zenker photo from Pixabay
Celebrating the release of my poetry book Moody Gardens: A Collection of Travel Poems.
It’s almost here! Here is the cover with art by El Paso artist Erika Martinez!
I love the following poem about the Canadian border. Think about how different the Canadian border in this poem is from the Mexican border now and throughout history. Doesn’t it make you wonder why it’s so different?
This is the field where the battle did not happen, where the unknown soldier did not die. This is the field where grass joined hands, where no monument stands, and the only heroic thing is the sky. Birds fly here without any sound, unfolding their wings across the open. No people killed — or were killed — on this ground hallowed by neglect and an air so tame that people celebrate it by forgetting its name.
—William E. Stafford
(photo from Pixabay)
Check out my latest publication at Dreamers Magazine.
