Recently published 2 volumes of short stories on January 4, 2024.
Editor’s Choice Award, presented to Regine Fisher for
“Outstanding Achievement in Poetry”
Presented by poetry.com and The International Library of Poetry 2000. Howard Ely, Managing Editor
Do You Remember
Do you remember house and park and street,
And sounds beneath an empty sky,
The simple meaning of the earthly beat,
Do you remember how to fly?
Do you remember trips around the moon
And jumps through hoops with no clear ends,
The stunning richness of Pompeiian ruins,
Do you remember evening scents?
Do you remember laughter, tears and talks
And stars that told of new vows made,
The gentle breeze of angel’s holy walks,
Do you remember witch’s trade?
Do you remember fall’s and winter’s rush
And summer’s calm relieving pain,
The fields unraveling through archways lush,
Do you remember sun and rain?
Who travels widely visits many worlds beyond
baroque meringues of clouds
Lost Don Quixotes with wonderous magic swords are killed by Bingo-playing crowds.
Published by The International Library of Poetry
http://www.poetry.com
Pilgrim
A lonely figure on the grass
Is puzzled neath his skin
The bells are ringing early mass
What journey to begin?
Should oceans crossing be his way
Or golden fields of rye
Which inner voice will he obey
What will be his reply?
He’ll leave his town, his house and wife
He’ll take the smallest sack
He’ll pack his cup, spoon, fork, and knife
He’ll say, “I will be back.”
He’ll walk through fence he meant to mend
But doesn’t any more
To his surprise his own bare hand
Will tear the prison’s door.
He’ll see the vastness of the land
It’s breathing warm and cold
He’ll understand there is no end
There is no young or old.
He’ll travel far for many days
He’ll learn the worldly arts
He’ll say, “There is no lonely place
But only lonely hearts.”
A quiet figure on the grass
Lay solemn and in peace
His body still on broken glass
No puzzles underneath.
How I Found My Mother***
Each time I walked into Bloomingdale’s to check on my mother, I was greeted by a Bloomie’s nightshirt, the exact copy of which I had worn to my school dance just to make a statement. Basically I went to Bloomie’s to see what my mother had done wrong that day with her looks. What else would you expect from the woman who got her first pair of earrings at the age of thirty and discovered blowdryers even later? The earrings, some blue stones set in silver, I was told, she had received from her mother on the day of her departure from Moscow. She left the Soviet Union with my brother, then a sweet baby-hard to believe-and her ears weren’t even pierced.