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Welcome to PoetryRepairShop 06.04:042 JUNE S. BEISCH At the Farm in Iron Belt, Wisconsin, 1943My Polish grandmother, plump and serene could often be seen picking strawberries in her strawberry patch while beyond the sweet meadow, the cows stood silently chewing, twitching their tails, impervious to the world. While my uncles worked at the haying,we as small children worked too, picking bugs off the potato plants and dropping them into coffee cans with a ping. Summers passed in sunshine there and only my grandfather, tall and thin refused to smile, his face grim, he hovered silently, hardly able to speak of the old country and the news from abroad of the invasion of Poland, the murder of 6 million Poles and the ensuing carnage. As the summers passed, my grandfather became as gaunt as a ghost, as haunted and remote as the names we heard t hem whispering at night; Auschwitz, Treblinka. Copyright 2006, all rights retained by the poet |
 JUNE S. BEISCH | 06.04: 042 page navigation
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JAN OSCAR HANSEN Copyright 2006, all rights retained by the poet |
 JAN OSCAR HANSEN If post-modernism means anything, it means a denial of tradition and form, preferring instead lyric and narrative. However, HANSEN's 'Chicago' must be read alongside the more famous Sandburg poetry of the same name. Of course, foregoing any knowledge of the poetic tradition, comprehension of HANSEN's poetry is possible; but, knowledge of tradition and forms will create another level of understanding. -JH | 06.04: 042 page navigation
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GABOR GYUKICS Erasable Street SignsI rushed a palm against a silver cigarette case, It bent, it curved feeling the touch, A hollow measure. A pebble tumbled out of a corner To find the rain To defeat the bush raging fire An annual hazard, To blow Angel Trumpets Into blooming. As my mother Who prays anywhere, To save her son, To find lost notebooks, Just to loose them again Around erasable street signs. Blade in Fashion Wearing a transparent gown She crossed the threshold Approaching a guillotine With shorn hair With red scarf around her neck With an easy walk She passed the executioner Stepped off the podium Leaving bloody footsteps On the cobble stone of the Octagonal square Sunk into the steaming clouds Of the mobs perspiration Making her entrance in the Carnage of the 21st century To greet us In this comic book world We live in Copyright 2006, all rights retained by the poet |
 GABOR GYUKICS - we are looking forward to more fine work from this Hungarian poet. | 06.04: 042 page navigation
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