Emiliano Martin...10 Louisa Godissart McQuillen...6 Carol Dee Meeks...5 Marie-Louise Meyers...3 Jacqueline Moffett ...11 Constance A. Trump...15 Lucille Morgan Wilson...12 Michael Bourgo...14 Gail Denham...3 Marilyn Downing...7 Lynn Fetterolf...2 Ann Gasser...16 Mark Hudson...8 Inge Logenburg Kyler...13 Richard T. Lake...9 (Poems by PPS members —Electronically-shared) copyrighted by authors 28 lines or less, formatted and illustrated by Ann Gasser with digital paintings, digital collages, and other shared images.unless stated otherwise PPS members are invited to submit. Deadline for receiving—1st of each month, poems appearing in order received Target date for sending out—10th of each month “Pennessence”– “Pennessence”– “Pennessence”– “Pennessence”– The Essence of PPS, The Essence of PPS, The Essence of PPS, The Essence of PPS, (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) July 201 201 201 2016 1.
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“Pennessence”– · Flying has lost its mystique ... he courted Mary Todd; in highest office, ... black squirrels scout for scraps in fire pits
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Emiliano Martin...10
Louisa Godissart
McQuillen...6
Carol Dee Meeks...5
Marie-Louise Meyers...3
Jacqueline Moffett ...11
Constance A. Trump...15
Lucille Morgan Wilson...12
Michael Bourgo...14
Gail Denham...3
Marilyn Downing...7
Lynn Fetterolf...2
Ann Gasser...16
Mark Hudson...8
Inge Logenburg Kyler...13
Richard T. Lake...9
(Poems by PPS members —Electronically-shared)copyrighted by authors
28 lines or less,
formatted and illustrated by Ann Gasser with digital paintings, digital collages,
and other shared images.unless stated otherwise
PPS members are invited to submit.
Deadline for receiving—1st of each month, poems appearing in order received
Target date for sending out—10th of each month
“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”–“Pennessence”– The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS,The Essence of PPS, (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.) (Pennsylvania Poetry Society, Inc.)
July2012012012016666
1.
BOEINGS
—by Lynn Fetterolf
Boeings.
I’ve flown in nearly all the seven hundreds
right up to but not including the 777.
Cocooned in their shining metal casing,
I’ve seen the Alps, the pyramids, the circular
lighted streets of Paris, the Tower of London,
the undulating Rhine and the sands of Arabia.
Flight, for me, was a way of life
as common as waking and sleep.
I, like any expat, could rattle off the visits
to many of the airports of this hemisphere.
This was my university.
I learned geography, history,
social interaction from my
seatmates, and occasional terror
from clear air turbulence and storms.
Flying has lost its mystique
in this age of terrorists,
invasive airport scans
and the indignities of
the lack of decorum in passenger’s
dress and behavior.
For all the cherished memories
I have of memorable flights,
I shall now, by choice, stay grounded for
the foreseeable future.
2.
photo from Lynn Fetterolf
WITH A SPRINKLE OF WHEAT GERM—HER STORY
--by Marie-Louise Meyers
I used to like to drown in home-made ice cream come Summer time,
or sponge it on the apple pies mother made,
with a sprinkle of wheat germ for the good of it,
to rectify any damage done
when our appetites provoked our staying strong and lean.
I recall how, with the best intent,
I always relented, no matter how full or plump I had become,
thinking somehow the fat would melt away
with mother’s good intentions,
She made the most of the worm-eaten fruit
from the backyard with just a sprinkle of sugar,
enough to satisfy our taste buds,
the savory warm apples would do the rest.
With what finesse, she would roll out the dough, and
with what self control, peel and cut out the bad parts, saving the good of it
like she did when she discounted whatever wrong we did
for the best of what we had to offer; even when we sprouted defiant tones,
or like Bob, sowed a few wild oats.
Thank you for giving us the best of you,
blueberries and spring water too.
After writing the poem I found this by my bedside,
a Catholic calendar for 1998, the year you died
with a picture of Mary holding Jesus, and angels by her side