Cantos: a Literary and Arts Journal
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Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal EDITOR John J. Han ASSISTANT EDITOR Ashley Anthony EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS Mary C. Bagley Sara Choate Mary Ellen Fuquay Rachel Hayes Douglas T. Morris COVER ART (“Magnolia”) COVER DESIGN Carol Sue Horstman Jenny Gravatt Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal is published every April by the Department of English at Missouri Baptist University. It is designed to provide writers and poets with a venue for their artistic expressions and to promote literary awareness among scholars and students. The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of Missouri Baptist University. Compensation for contributions is one copy of Cantos. Copyrights revert to authors and artists upon publication. SUBMISSIONS: Cantos welcomes submissions from the students, faculty, staff, alumni, and friends of Missouri Baptist University. Send previously unpublished manuscripts as e-mail attachments (Microsoft Word format) to the editor at [email protected] by March 1 each year. However, earlier submissions receive priority consideration. Poems should consist of 40 or fewer lines; limit up to five poems per submission. Prose submissions must be less than 2000 words; we consider up to three works from each author. We do not accept simultaneous submissions. By submitting, you certify that the work is your own and is not being considered elsewhere. Accepted manuscripts are subject to editing for length, clarity, grammar, usage, conciseness, and appropriate language. Along with your work, please submit a 50-100 word biographical sketch in third-person narrative. SUBSCRIPTIONS & BOOKS FOR REVIEW: Cantos subscriptions, renewals, address changes, and books for review should be mailed to John J. Han, Editor of Cantos, Missouri Baptist University, One College Park Drive, St. Louis, Missouri 63141. Phone: (314) 392-2311/Fax: (314) 434-7596. Subscription rate for both individuals and institutions: $5 per issue purchased at MBU and $7 per mail-ordered issue. Volume 18—2012 www.mobap.edu/cantos CONTENTS Poetry 4 The Estate Sale and Other Poems Linda O‘Connell 7 This Morning of a Snow and Other Poems Donal Mahoney 10 I Look to Find a Name and Other Poems Stephen Manning 12 Particles of Hope and Other Poems Faye Adams 16 Winter Retreat and Other Poems j.l.willis 18 the gift: a poem and painting Carol Sue Horstman 19 ―Seasons‖ and ―Nearing the End‖ Charlotte Digregorio 21 Is This Me? and Other Poems Marcel Toussaint 24 Trivial Pet Deaths to Choke You Up, Maybe Mary Kennan Herbert 25 Lost Love Christine Ford 26 Tire Swinging from a Branch and Other Poems Justo Hererra 27 God‘s Ways Are Not Our Ways Nancy Gowen 28 Antiques Road Show and Other Poems Gail Eisenhart 32 Dandelion Distribution and Other Poems Terrie Jacks 34 Poems and Images Donald W. Horstman 41 Epitaph Sam Short 42 My First Jelly-Bean Prayer Andrew Hartmann 43 Ozark Quilt and Other Poems Bobbie Craig 45 A Firefly in Kentucky and Other Poems Gregory Ramirez 47 Poems from Korea Trans. John J. Han 51 Haiku Economics Sandy Moore 52 Ode on a German Schnauzer Mary Bagley 53 Baseball and a Haiku Brick Mathis 54 Poems and Sketches Ruth E. Bell 56 A Relationship with the Paintbrush and Other Poems Chloe Alisha Adams 58 Haiku and Senryu E. Busekrus, G.T. Johnston, M.J. Meyer 59 Strange Dreams (Joseph‘s Story) Anna Roberts-Wells Short Stories 61 Forgotten but Not Gone Von Pittman 64 A Voice from the Past Gary W. Cantor Nonfiction 68 In the Land of the Snake-Eating Bird Bill Byrne 71 A Case for Studying Abroad: Graduate Study in London Kelly Leavitt 76 Flower Power Faye Adams 78 Life Abroad @ Handong Cordell P. Schulten 85 Sportsman‘s Park Billy Adams 86 Using Language to Prove a Point about Language Jen Trapper 87 My Serbian Roots Amber Gielow 2 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal 88 Don‘t Forget Me Brianna Jones 90 Silence: The Story of Adulthood in My Family Jessica Kostelic 92 A Language Unspoken Joshua Smith 94 Nauka Polski: Learning Polish Melinda Golubski 95 Party of Nine Stacey Reed 97 What‘s in a Name? Rebecca Klussman 98 The Haiku Movement in Korea John J. Han 106 Book Reviews John J. Han On Writing Creatively 117 Capturing the Moment through Evocative Haiku Charlotte Digregorio 127 To Rhyme or Not to Rhyme Faye Adams 130 Simply yet Not So Simple: Haiku Aesthetics John J. Han 142 Rhymed versus Prose Poetry Marcel Toussaint 146 Notes on Contributors Photo Art Renee Scott 17 Morning in Soulard 25 Happy Face 27 In the Garden 31 Frayed 53 Afternoon Blues 57 Star Magnolia 66 Peeking Out 91 Sanctuary 145 Early Spring 152 Symmetry 3 _________________________________________________________Poetry One merit of poetry few persons will deny: it says more and in fewer words than prose. —Voltaire I think that there is nothing, not even crime, more opposed to poetry, to philosophy, ay, to life itself than this incessant business. —Henry David Thoreau Poetry surrounds us everywhere, but putting it on paper is, alas, not so easy as looking at it. —Vincent Van Gogh 4 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal The Estate Sale and Other Poems Linda O’Connell The Estate Sale Buyer‘s delight piled high on tables and counters, crammed into kitchen cabinets, sprawled across floors, spread in every closet, nook and cranny. Price tags stuck on priceless memories. Stained chili-mac plates, crystal vases that once held daisies and droopy dandelions, mismatched jelly glasses with Nestle Quick stirrings, silver spoons that soared applesauce airplane-fast into baby mouths, cast iron skillets seasoned with Sunday bacon. Lavender-scented towels folded with tenderness, aprons knotted with love, doilies crocheted by hand, cross stitched hankies, patchwork quilts, pillows stuffed with dreams. For Sale: Grandma‘s treasured things. For Sale grandkids‘ priceless memories stored, floored, shelved, hung, disposed of one at a time for a nickel or dime, sold for a song, everything‘s gone. There is no more, close the door. Forever, Two Newlywed Girls Thirty-nine years ago, in the 49th state, in our nineteenth year we traipsed across fields of fireweed glowing pink in the midnight sun through a forest of stunted trees, down narrow paths that led to independence. In eighteen months we knitted a friendship so snug separation could not divide us when we said good-bye to Uncle Sam, so long to each other. Followed our soldiers home, traveled through motherhood and mayhem, encountered small pleasures 5 and tackled great obstacles. Leaned on one another for support and comfort, uplifting advice and an occasional forehead smack. Airmail letters, long distance calls, intermittent visits carried us through births, deaths, life. Despite the wrinkles in our faces, the brain tumor that snatched her short term memory, nothing will ever snag our bonded threads and unravel our keepsake friendship. Forever, we will be two newlywed girls walking a dusty gravel road kicking up our heels in a remote Alaskan town. Old Love Birds Soul mates, they strolled up the slight incline one a short distance ahead of the other. She paused, cocked her head back in his direction, waited as usual for him to shuffle slowly to her side. Together they strode to the apex, his chest puffed out, taking in oxygen, and the view from on high made heaven seem closer. He cooed and gave her a peck. If he‘d been wearing suspenders he‘d have inserted his wings into his straps, popped them proudly and preened for his turtle dove up on the roof. Grandma’s New Baby When you aaah-chooo you blow me away. Your hic-cup rhythm makes me sway. Your belly-burps are daddy size. Your tiny toots are chuckle size. Your coos and aahs rock my world, Grandma‘s newest baby girl. When we lock eyes it‘s you and me, Toothless wonder and old granny. ―I cuuute,‖ you babble, and I reply ―Yes you are, and so am I.‖ 6 Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal You‘re oh so precious, my little miss Your Maw-Maw blew you an angel kiss. She caressed your cheeks from heaven on high. Painted your peepers like the deep blue sky. All of your noises, even your cry inflate my ego and make me sigh. I cannot believe I‘m blessed again. You‘re a gift from heaven with an angel‘s grin. For Rich or Poor I reclined in the bed of Dad‘s rattle trap ‘49 Ford coupe, which he hack-sawed and ripped apart to make himself a pickup truck. I bowed my ten year old sunburned face. Hid my eyes from every shaking head, tuned out the tsk-tsk of passing motorists who stabbed index fingers in the direction of my heart. The mattress lumpy, the elements most uncomfortable. Transient was a way of life and home was behind houses in garages converted to living quarters, bathtubs non-existent, water scalded in sauce pans; we had no lidded pots big enough to hide inside. Mom cleansed our bodies, scrubbed the floors, overprotected us as best she knew how. We soaked our souls in store-front churches. Dad junked through alleys for scrap metal and struggled to feed his poor little skinny kids. I bailed at eighteen, opened the pantry that contained little food, boxed up my dime store collection of plastic household items; gathered my hopes and dreams. Lugged tons of stuff into a loveless marriage, fattened up two beautiful children and cooed sweet nothings in their ears. We lived in lovely homes furnished with all that money could buy. A quarter of a century, every night, I bowed my head and cried.