Tag Archives: Leslie Schultz Poetry

April 27, 2017 Poem in Your Pocket Day & Poem: “Portable”

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Portable
for Sandy Petrek

A taste for home
pierces the tongue
early, is easy
to carry
across oceans,
or a whole lifetime.

You’ve been
teaching me
the anchoring tang
of the fresh-caught
raspberry, still dewy,
sun-and-wind
ripened, just outside
your door;

how to reach
through a forest
of obstacles—
tough green canes,
thorns, tears—
to lift a brief
sweetness to the lips,
and to let it linger.

Leslie Schultz

All over the country, today is POEM IN YOUR POCKET DAY.

(A few years ago, my friend, Sandy Petrek and I spearheaded an effort to bring this celebration to Northfield. Look for the red boxes downtown and elsewhere, or tuck a favorite poem fro home into your pocket–read it to someone else or just to yourself, and consider passing it along before the day is done.)    LESLIE

Check out other participants at the NaPoWriMo Challenge 2017 home site!

April 28, 2017 Poem “Death”

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Death

I hate you and the horse you rode in on.
I hate your black hat, your black boots, your cloak
darker than oblivion. Carrion
memories attend you, and I hate them—oak-

galled ink scribblings in the margins of your
book. I hate the pain you cut with a steel
quill across the faces I love, how you roar
in bone-silence, deeper and more surreal

than the bedrock ticking of clocks or time
itself. I hate how you invade this form
of love, this sonnet, twisting its pretzeled rhyme
to your own echoless ends: unsound, infirm.

I shall stare you down. I shall take the reins.
Pale horse, your rider walks away in chains.

Leslie Schultz

The photograph of the white swirl on the water was taken at the glacial pothole park at Taylor’s Falls on the St. Croix River, a bit north of here. The other photographs were taken in Savannah, Georgia.

LESLIE

Check out other participants at the NaPoWriMo Challenge 2017 home site!

 

 

Poet-Artist Collaboration XVI Reading on April 8, 2017 at The Crossings in Zumbrota

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PAC XVI postcard (1)

For the 16th year in a row, Crossings at Carnegie, a lively art center and concert venue in Zumbrota, Minnesota, has brought poets together with visual artists. Each year, poets send in poems and, through a blind judging process, upwards of two dozen are selected. Meanwhile, through a similar juried process, an equal number of visual artists are selected. The end result is a month-long exhibit at The Crossings to celebrate National Poetry Month, and the highlight is a celebratory reception and reading. This year, on Saturday, April 8, artists, poets, friends, family, and art-and-poetry lovers generally will gather for a feast of great food and wine and a chance to hear poems read, to view the art works inspired by the poems, and to hear a little bit about the inspiration behind the work.

I will be there to read my poem, “Nomad’s Daughter,” and I would love to see you, too, if your schedule allows.

The Crossings is a very dynamic place. I have participated in four past Poet-Artist Collaborations, and, some years ago, they hosted a joint exhibition of my photographs and those of Northfielder Patsy Dew. They always have something interesting going on, and their shop is full of unusual and beautiful merchandise that makes finding a perfect gift quite easy. It is worth checking out any day of the year!  For directions, and for more information about the depth of program offerings, from classes and concerts, to exhibitions and shop offerings, you can find out more about The Crossings at Carnegie by checking out their website.

Sig Flowers

My Poem in THE WAYFARER & Homebound Publications Reciprocity Project

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Wayfarer Cover March 2017

The arrival of a new issue of The Wayfarer at our house is always an occasion. This one, just out, is especially compelling to me. Its selection of poems and many articles–a multi-faceted story on the peaceful but determined and wide-spread Standing Rock movement to protect Lakota land and water; an interview that highlights the work of illustrator Jackie Morris who combines exquisite watercolor with gold leaf [See the cover image]; a reflection by Gail Collins-Ranadive on visiting the Anne Frank Memorial Park in the heart of Boise, Idaho; on mindful and delicious eating; and on an array of other topics–all support my own determination not to despair in this fraught time but rather to steadily turn my face toward the best expressions of what it means to be human. Reading The Wayfarer reminds me to stay grounded but to let my imagination soar. It also demonstrates, in an uncommonly beautiful and truthful way, that I am not alone–many, many people are finding ways–brave and tender, large and small–every day–to make the world a more compassionate, respectful, imaginative, and joyful place.

When I see how The Wayfarer and its parent company, Homebound Publications, marries art and activism, I feel restored and inspired. Here is one example:

“We are excited to announce Homebound Publications’ Reciprocity Project. For the entire year of 2017, for every order that comes through our store, we will donate one new book to a library within the United States.”

I am so pleased that one of my own poems, “The Botanical Guide to Select Poets of New England and New York,” is included in this latest issue. If you would like to know more, or order either a digital print copy, take a look at the Homebound website, where you can also browse the entire list of Homebound Publications–ranging from back issues of The Wayfarer to books of essay and poetry, each carefully crafted and inspiring.

Happy Reading! Happy Dreaming! Happy Spring!

Sig Flowers and Art

On Inauguration Day 2017: Poem “Letter to Mrs. Olson”

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FlagChalkboard

My friend, artist, poetry lover, and community volunteer Bonnie Jean Flom, recently suggested that today would be the right day to share this poem more widely. Since I always heed Bonnie Jean, here it is. And here’s to the power of friendship, of those small kindnesses that add up to the world we want to inhabit.

Letter to Mrs. Olson

I am a happy wife and must report
my husband makes excellent coffee.
While I didn’t marry him for that skill,
it is a joy to wake to aroma
I have not brewed myself, or over-stewed.

We do not keep Folgers on the shelf but
French-roasted beans in the white freezer,
Grinding them ourselves, gently, a rich few
at a time.  Others also make excellent
coffee.  It is an open secret now.
We know all the fragrant places and drive
out of our way for the best.  Yes, it is

a different world.  Sometimes, I feel jittery.
The future looks dark.  Then I close my eyes,
sip the brew I’m offered from other hands–
deliciously bitter, something unknown
but needed, a cup I could not fill alone.

Leslie Schultz

(I took the image of the flag and chalk board in the school house relocated to Stone Mountain Plantation, Georgia. The image of coffee, table, and chair is from River Rock Coffee in St. Peter, Minnesota.)

IMG_0831

LESLIE

P.S. Beth, I’ll be wearing the socks all day, wiping the dishes, and thinking about those holding hands across the Golden Gate Bridge!

Rosie the Rivetter Socks