Dr. Gene Hirsch, a resident of North Carolina and Pennsylvania, teaches poetry classes at John C. Campbell Folk School. He has published five volumes of Freeing Jonah. The anthologies are collections of poetry from students in workshops at the Folk School and from poets in the region.
Tonight I picked up my copy of Freeing Jonah V, published in 2007. Listed among the forty-five poets featured are a number of NCWN West members: Glenda Barrett, Janet Benway, Joyce Foster, who has a new poetry collection, Mary Michelle Keller, Brenda Kay Ledford, Mary Ricketson, Nancy Simpson, Linda Smith, Dorothea Spiegel and many more.
My good friend, writer and poet, Estelle Rice of Marble, NC will be reading at the John Campbell Folk School next week. See sidebar. The following poem touches me in a special way.
Goodbye
In my heart, there is a lingering scent
of Johnson’s wax
pickled peaches,
Evening in Paris perfume,
Mennen’s After Shave,
smoke from a Dutch Master’s Cigar.
I can almost taste the Brunswick stew,
Melton’s barbecue,
fruitcake and eggnog,
chocolate-peanut butter cookies,
and homemade peach ice cream.
Bookshelves are empty,
and there is no piano
in the sun parlor.
No voice or human sound,
I hear the echo of my footsteps
in halls and hollow rooms.
Lilacs Mother planted
are blooming.
I pick a flower
to press for safekeeping.
Cardinals have returned to their nest
in the Talisman rose.
Outside the breakfast room window
squirrels chatter in the oak tree
unaware of my tears.
I shut the door and turn the key.
Tonight I picked up my copy of Freeing Jonah V, published in 2007. Listed among the forty-five poets featured are a number of NCWN West members: Glenda Barrett, Janet Benway, Joyce Foster, who has a new poetry collection, Mary Michelle Keller, Brenda Kay Ledford, Mary Ricketson, Nancy Simpson, Linda Smith, Dorothea Spiegel and many more.
My good friend, writer and poet, Estelle Rice of Marble, NC will be reading at the John Campbell Folk School next week. See sidebar. The following poem touches me in a special way.
Goodbye
In my heart, there is a lingering scent
of Johnson’s wax
pickled peaches,
Evening in Paris perfume,
Mennen’s After Shave,
smoke from a Dutch Master’s Cigar.
I can almost taste the Brunswick stew,
Melton’s barbecue,
fruitcake and eggnog,
chocolate-peanut butter cookies,
and homemade peach ice cream.
Bookshelves are empty,
and there is no piano
in the sun parlor.
No voice or human sound,
I hear the echo of my footsteps
in halls and hollow rooms.
Lilacs Mother planted
are blooming.
I pick a flower
to press for safekeeping.
Cardinals have returned to their nest
in the Talisman rose.
Outside the breakfast room window
squirrels chatter in the oak tree
unaware of my tears.
I shut the door and turn the key.
