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           On the Veendam

 

I watch the fragility of waves

Collapsing like a spoken cliché

Swaying to the rhythm of their own voices

Eavesdropping on each other as they swell

Rolling faster and louder until they submerge

Exhausted like us after love protecting

Afterglow moments we can call our own

 

The waves recede toward the horizon

Stretched across the sky like our history

Repeating their journey as we do each morning

The scent of each other on pillows

 

The sea is blue today

Like me when you leave

 

Joan Magiet

 

Can You See Me

 

Driving to Grand Case is my St. Marteen ritual

On Rue de Hollande I feel the rush building like traffic

Up steep roads to Quartier d’Orleans where I will nest

Comforted by a beach umbrella at Orient Bay protecting

My friendly bag of pens, pads and my bottomless well of words

Piling up inside me like cars at a red light

 

Encouraged by white caps, seagulls, catamarans

Batik, beads and bonjour I strip away the layers

Of my subconscious until peeled and bare

As the bodies of women sunning

I place my words on paper

Edit, polish, revise for viewing

Shape the version of me I will allow public

 

If I am as naked on paper

As men and women strolling

Will you accept me

I could sooner expose the curve of my breast

Than my private thoughts and deeds

 

I live behind a smile

 

Joan Magiet

Assistant Professor of English,

NCC Award recipient, PPA co-founder,

first place PPA winner

                 Sonnet  [for G.M.]

 

I stand on the sandy ground at Orient Bay

I watch the green Atlantic leave the sky

I feel the slap of waves against my thigh

the thrum of naked beauty slips away

like grains of sand I weathered many years

forty-three of them I shared with you

I sculpted all my plans in shapes of two

like ebbing tide you coaxed me through my fears

if tomorrow were the day we had to part

I’d ban anger and resentment from my life

I’d speak of all the joys of being wife

that color the horizon of my heart

you are the harbor light that warms my shore

if we had less, I would not ask for more

 

Joan Magiet

HE MOVED ON

 

When my husband was near the end of his life

The end of the journey

Approaching the end of the Monopoly Board Game of Life

His nurses would refer to it as “he may be expiring soon”

 

I said to him politely

Please don’t say it that way

Please say when he “moves on”

 

Ah the male nurse said

Yes that is a tender way to put it

And I shall refer to it that way from now on

 

Now that it is all over

And he has “moved on”

I wonder where he is to go from there…

Or shall we say that was the end

Of his move!

 

Sudden Lightning

several chapbooks published, ode composer, comedienne, actress

Divine Moon

 

Platinum blonde

Silver sliver

ruling the nite with a

Sterling spoon

made of iron made of steel

sporting much sex appeal!

 

Chrome zone, zinc chaste—Copper Mama

satin turquoised

orange basketball holding

flamboyant paisley fuchias

with some pensive pinks…

 

caught in a mix

of sea moss, gypsy greens and

lava baby royal blues

a zesty array of neon spiritual purples

that touch the essence of my

very soul my very heart

 

to me you are

“divine”

 

Sudden Lightning

 

A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE

 

Is it any wonder

they named you “Desrie”

Running so fast

that neither poets

nor playwrights

namely Tennessee Williams

could catch you

 

Burning the rails

with your heat

Carrying forbidden passengers

yet who hasn’t ridden in your car

 

and when she lets you off

you are dripping “with sweat”

of “pink perspiration”

Not uncommon to a man

with a heavy build!

 

Leaving many to wish

that they had “missed” that car

and waited for the next

 

Desire

 

is her name and a Streetcar

is her “game”…

 

Sudden Lightning

Performance Poets Association®