[Critique Group 2] Pieces for 9-27-2018

[Abbie Taylor]

###1. Poetry from Valerie Moreno

Diligence

Blue-gray cat awakens.
He yawns,
s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s.
He takes in life

around him,
begins the task
fastidious cleaning--
sleek body, ears, face--

readying himself
for the next hours
until, after food and prowl,
another nap beckons.

###2. Poetry from Leonard Tuchyner

27 lines
Legacy
I am a space time wanderer,
looking for a place to dwell --
a land of prairie grasses --
verdant, shadowed woodlands --
rushing, tumbling crystal streams
flowing to ponds and lakes,
abounding with fish and fowl, 
living oceans vast as skies,
that twinkle with firmament 
in dark of sacred nights,
and rains to wash all anew.
“Go, my son,” my father said.
“Travel where my time is done,
and take this land in times to come.
The future belongs to you alone.”
In gratitude and expectation,
I mounted my waiting flying steed,
who carried me through passing years,
swiftly on his timeless wings;
so quickly I could not perceive
the landscapes changing under me.
When the sweeping Sun and stars
cease their pinwheel streaking swirl,
I look down upon a wasted world,
where forests once stood, a burned-out grit
festooned with stunted plants and bugs --
prairies silent of beating hooves --
deserts sweltering in heat of night --
wormed-out mountains of barren rock --
streams and lakes, long now, oily dead --
oceans reek with the smell of death,
in embrace of a torrid wind.
I scream out to the sickened land,
“What, in God’s name, has happened to you?”
And Earth answers in gasping breath,
“Your father took faster than I could give.”

###3. Poetry from Brad Corallo

Ode to the Goddess Guanyin 
© By Brad Corallo
Word count 334

NOTE: As through my life I have pursued my interest in the world’s mythologies, the Goddess Guanyin has always been my favorite deity in Asian legend. There are many stories of her exploits from many Asian societies and different Buddhist traditions. Having just gone through a vast amount of pain and dehumanizing violation (most of it unavoidable) I began to remember my lifelong fascination with her. Indeed it is even possible (though not likely) that aspects of Guanyin crossed my path recently in the persons of a nurse, Gina and a nursing assistant, Arleen.

I highly recommend reading about her many actions to right all wrongs and help all beings to know true release from the Karmic wheel. It occurs to me that possibly a version of her appears in my recent poem: “A Dream of Respite” which was written 3 days before the beginning of the above mentioned ordeal. Wikipedia is a decent place to begin your introduction. It is my genuine hope that the many tales of her boundless compassion provide you with comfort or even true inspiration to benevolent action.

***

Over all creation in dynamic motion,
presides Guanyin of the Southern Ocean.

The one true Goddess of compassion.
the pain of others is her ration.

Oh, how I long to be your Sudhana
to heal the world with sacred Manna.

Through your myriad eyes and hands,
no evils would before us stand.

But alas, our paths are widely scattered
yet hope continues though hearts be shattered.

I was told to seek you on Fragrant Mountain
to bathe in the mist of your soothing fountain.

So this search has been my work of being
all performed without true seeing.

Thus all my time to quest and seek
to find you on Fragrant Mountain Peak.

Upon that day all suffering will end 
as your compassion, every heart shall mend.  
  
Then every soul will have release
and the universe may at last know peace.

###4. Poetry from Abbie Taylor

A HALLOWED DISASTER

In the fifth grade classroom on Halloween,
topless pumpkins lie scattered on desks.
I stick my hands inside one, grasp slimy inards
as the stench fills the air.
My stomach turns.

“Please, may I go to the bathroom?” I beg,
Trying not to lose my lunch.

“No,” the teacher says.
“You need to finish your pumpkin.”
My mouth opens--the pumpkin, table, floor, 
teacher are swathed in my own inards’ contents.

###5. Essay from Alice Massa

Three Puzzle Pieces of Life

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

How many 5'3", one hundred-pound, blind women have received threats on their lives?  Not many, one would think; but I have--not once, but twice.  Now, I am slightly wondering if I may add a third to this incredible listing.

In 1971, when I was enrolled in a semester of student teaching, I recall that my supervising teacher, trying to somewhat cover his great surprise, told me: "When you get in front of the class, it is like you are another person.  You are like an actress on a stage."  At age 21, I never thought my change from one side of the desk to the other was that drastic.  How we are perceived by others is sometimes a curious thing.

In the midst of a five-year long political effort in the 1980s, on behalf of my rural       hometown which was being significantly impinged by a massive coal company, my name was in the newspaper again.  The reporter--not from the small town nearer to my hometown, but from the largest city in the next county--used the cliche that I was "the mouse that roared."  While the piece was flattering, I was not exactly pleased with my comparison to a mouse.  Nevertheless, the reporter was nice and gave my side some much-needed positive exposure.

While continuing this political goal, very late one night, the phone rang.  I picked up the receiver of what now would be considered an old-fashioned phone with ten rectangular buttons stretching across the horizontal base.  The man's message was short and to the point:  due to my political actions, he threatened my life.  Although I knew I was "playing with the big boys," as some would say, I never dreamed someone would threaten my life.  Hearing an unexpected  car pull into the white-rock driveway when I was home alone, I was a little worried; however, eventually the trial was over.  I moved on.  With a fellowship grant for a second master's degree, I moved to a university town in another state.

In the 1990s, at a workplace, a co-worker, who had periodic bouts with mental illness, became belligerent with me for no apparent reason.  Since only she and I were in the office at the time, my guide dog and I hurried out of the very large room, crossed the hallway, and went to another office where I knew there would be at least one secretary--at least one witness.  The ("normally sighted") person who threatened me with bodily injury followed my guide dog and me into the other office and continued her outlandish threatening words in front of the witness.  The secretary immediately called security. 

When I gave a complete statement to a security officer, he encouraged me to press charges.  Due to the mental illness of the co-worker and due to the age of my parents (who would not have wanted me to pursue the matter further), I chose not to press charges; however, in a file, I still have the documents of this incident.  Temporarily, my supervisor had me move to another office; then, the co-worker took yet another leave-of-absence for another year.  Eventually, she retired; I continued working without having to worry about her.

Now, over two decades later, I am in another one of those situations.  This time, I know the circumstances.  My journalism degree served me well in this retirement year.  I take some satisfaction in thinking that even Mike Wallace, of Sixty Minutes fame, would be pleased with my persistence, my relentless questioning to find an astonishing answer--so astonishing that within minutes, I e-mailed all of the details to the most well-known talk-show host of local radio.  A couple of hours later, I asked a relative to write down a name and a telephone number.  When I told her the entire findings, she firmly agreed that the information which I had gathered was indeed "astonishing."  I joke that I may need some protection, but she was too serious in telling me to be careful.  At this point in my life, I only worry about the well-being of my guide dog. 

I do not want to be momentarily famous as a result of this finding:  I just want to be at peace and be able to move on with my retirement life with my guide dog.  I really do want life to be easier, less exciting.

Some puzzle pieces of life one never expects.  I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

September 19-20, 2018 (11:45 p.m.-1:22 a.m.)

Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author http://abbiescorner.wordpress.com
http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
abbietaylor945 at gmail.com
Order my new memoir at http://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com/memoir.htm