POETSWEDNESDAY & More

PoetsWednesday

582 Rahway Ave., Woodbridge, NJ

732-634-0413

 

 

Wednesday, March 13, 2013, 8PM

Featuring

Nicole Greenwood

&

Alissa Pecora

 

Open Mic to Follow

------

Workshop at 7PM

with

Nicole Greenwood

*************************************************

Free

Refreshments Supplied by Wegmans

Donations Are Greatly Appreciated

Thanks to Cynthia Knight, BAC Director, Brandon Powell, staff, and

The Woodbridge Cultural Arts Commission with the

support of Mayor John McCormac

 

PoetsWednesday Site: http://wednesdaypoet.typepad.com/

 

Directions: http://www.twp.woodbridge.nj.us/Departments/BarronArtsCenter/BarronArtsCenterDirections/tabid/754/Default.aspx

Contact: Deborah LaVeglia, Poetry Director, at [email protected]

Featuring on Wednesday, April 10, 2013: PoetsWednesday Workshop Readers

Looking for Artists/Poets/Storytellers/Singers/Musicians for NJ Charity Event in March, 2013

Artists/Poets/Storytellers/Singers/Musicians Wanted

For

Covenant Ecumenical Fellowship of Cathedral Assemblies'

Charity Spring Bazar

on March 23, 2013

Please Contact

Joan Martin

at

(908) 812-9619

or

[email protected]

Alissa Pecora

Alissa Pecora is a high school teacher from Keyport, N.J. She has had work published
in Exit 13,
The Edison Literary Review, Spindrift, Poetic Reflections of Monmouth
County, Voices From the Grove, Poetsonline.org, and Identitytheory.com, and has
work forthcoming in the Maple Leaf Rag. She
has also been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and studied at the Fine Arts Work
Center, The Frost Place, and the Squaw Valley Community of Writers. She has an
MA in English from The College of New
Jersey.

Nicole Greenwood

 

Nicole Greenwood is a poet & writer originally
from Central New York. She won the Edwin T. Whiffen Poetry Prize from Syracuse
University, has published works in The Idiom Magazine, and has shared her poetry
at many venues and events in the Tri-State Area. Nicole is a 2011/2012 Asbury
Park Laureate Nominee. She moved to Ocean Grove, NJ in 2000 and still lives by
the wonderful sea with her husband, Jim, and their two children.

The Rainbow Cab Company by Alissa Pecora

The Rainbow Cab Company

            
  Ed fell and cut his head outside Smitty’s
            
  while he waited for his ride.
           
  Blood ran down the wrinkles of his face;
        
  his glasses cracked a hole into his nose.
           
  Patrice held him up while I started to call 911,

          
  but he grabbed my hand, said,
           
  Please, don’t, so I didn’t. The bartender

            
  wadded paper towels from the bathroom.
            
  We held Ed’s head and waited.
            
  And waited. To fill the space,
            
  I asked what he used to do.
           
  It turns out he was a teacher, like me,
           
  special ed for four years. He said
           
  he loved it. I asked him why
            
  only four years, and he said,
           
  Uh, but nothing followed.
        
  And we called for the cab again
         
  and got a machine. The bleeding stopped.
        
  Ed didn’t seem to mind that no one came,
        
  though we were angry. I remembered Genesis,
  
  I shall set my bow in the sky,
           
  the sign of the covenant, but it never comes
           
  when you need it. I told Ed
          
  to tape up his glasses as Patrice lifted him
            
  into her Blazer to drive him home.
            
  I walked back to my house,
           
  The stars were out, the night, clear,
            
  but I couldn’t make myself look up.

                                                              --Alissa Pecora

                                                                 first published in "ELR"

                                                                 

                                                              

Summer After Summer by Nicole Greenwood

Summer After Summer

 

Under the blue morning

with the hum of a day's event,

I step alone with the crowd.

Along musty tents,

among hunting eyes,

I graze flea market treasures.

I find an old photo

in a worn out box

full of old photos.

“One for a dollar,

three for two.”

A collection of seconds,

all misplaced,

most forgotten,

and some surely lost.

I take the one that I can’t let go.

A photo of bygone strangers

unaware of haunting record.

A keepsake of bewildered faces

that do not smile, or jest,

or mask suspicion & fear.

They are new to cameras,

and what their images look like on paper.

The blurry little boy

held down in the corner

wears the only delighted expression.

His grin is more mischievous,

and free,

than posed.

He is not yet bothered by new things

as much as he is by sitting still.

I’m sure he ran off to a tree,

or a stream,

or a girl--

as soon as the flash busted.

Startled,

those gentle ladies, maybe, stood up from their
chairs.

They brushed off their skirts,

and the taste of vanity

while those decent men walked away

under a blue morning

with the hum of a day's event,

lighting their cigars,

and their thoughts on

how fast the world was changing.

 

                                                                   --by Nicole Greenwood