Poems of Gist, Fisher, and Guadarrama

By Eileen Wingard

Eileen Wingard

LA JOLLA, California — The three local Jewish poets, Jan Gist, Lorraine Fisher and Yoel Guadarrama, attracted a large attendance to the January 21 Jewish Poets—Jewish Voices evening at the Astor Judaica Library at the Lawrence Fmaily JCC.  Among the audience were many poets who shared their works during the open mic segment, creating one of the most interesting and diverse programs in the series.

Jan Gist, whose literary involvements include serving at the Old Globe as voice, speech and dialect coach, displayed her gift for words, weaving them into fascinating artistic designs. Lorraine Fisher, who works at the Lawrence Family JCC, presented poems that were highly emotional and personal. Yoel Guadarrama shared his poems written in Spanish. He gave brief summaries of their content and shared his feelings about life.

Here are samples from each featured poet:

BIG RAIN  by Jan Gist

This is a big rain coming up.
In the hushed privacy of wet midnight
the polite neighborhood sleeps
with its lights turned off
while the trees breathe and sigh
and throw themselves against the watery night
bend and sway and thrash
waving welcome to the storm.

Am I the only neighbor awake and watching?
Have any others been called
to their windows and doors to eavesdrop
pulled out of the twisted sheets
and tossing sleep
invited to admire the dance?

Is this the storm that Shiva rides on?
the Dancer God swaying his thousand arms
with the thrashing trees
riding into his next incarnation
before my watchful eyes?

Is this Jehova’s storm?
bearing his righteous rules amidst the chaos
while I dare watch
his mighty thrashing threats of doom and danger?

Is Kali in this storm?
bearing her endless children on the screaming wind?
Is this her birthing cry I hear?

Is Buddha in the eye of this storm
silent and still amidst the whipping wet world
the eternal beginner of empty mindfulness
surrounded by the wailing wind and me?

In the hushed privacy of wet midnight
as my neighbors sleep in their twisted sheets
I awake, hearing the call
leave my house, and enter the thrashing rain.

It pelts me with the possibility
of seeing Gods ride the wind
of hearing Gods give birth amidst the chaos.

The trees wave me out
welcoming me with the storm
and I throw myself into the watery night
and dance with it all.

*

OH, THE DISEASES YOU’LL SPREAD! ©2018 By Emily Fisher and Lorraine Fisher

In a freshman Bio class, At a local high school, An assignment was given, With some very clear rules.
“Write a story,” teacher said. “And, please, make it good, About a disease, That’s right here in our ‘hood.”
“We thought it was eradicated Much like the measles .But folks are getting sicker Especially those anti-vax weasels.”
So sorry to hear it. It’s more than a cold. But nothing to sneeze at. Or so I’ve been told.
Tuberculosis, albeit quite rare, Needs antibiotics. Those bacteria to scare.
Those suckers are airborne. They’re tough little bugs. Can be passed in many ways. But not with a hug.
Talking or singing, Germs find their way.From one to another, It’s a game you should not play.
Make a doctor’s appointment. Make it lickety split.TB is quite nasty.On its own, it won’t quit.
“Consumption” was its name Back in the day. So much coughing and crying Made people look gray.
Well, that was the 1800’s, More than a century in the past. We thought TB would be gone, And yet, it still lasts.
One day a student in this science class, Asked her mother to volunteer.A negative TB test, the office said,was what’s needed to clear.
“Of course,” said the student, “I’ll ask her tonight. Lest someone’s infected,We have to get this right.”
The mom was happy to comply, She told the daughter so.“TB’s nothing to fool around with, That much I know.”
“Loss of appetite, chills, and fever, Chest pain…no way!I’m off to my physician For a blood test or x-ray.”
Infection! Contagion! Medication! Oh my!Sadly enough,there’s no cure we can buy.
“Luckily,” said the mom,“my test came back negative, I’m glad I saw the doc; always better to be preventative.”
Keeping TB at bay is a worldwide goal; High and low-burden countries agree. As 10 million people die from the disease, We’ve seen it refuse to flee.
So . . .be your name Curie or Fleming or Salk, Apgar, DeBakey, Heimlich or Freud, You’re off to prevent! Today is your day! This disease is waiting. So . . . get on your way!

*

AVECES SOY POETA by Yoel Guadarrama

Aveces soy Poeta
sólo a veces…
Sólo cuando mi pensamiento
vuela y va por las laderas,
las montañas y los mares.

Sólo cuando miro las flores
cantando le a las aves
y mis ojos me dicen que
un gusano puede volar…

Sólo cuando mi corazón
le dice al lápiz
que bese el cuaderno,
que lo abrace y lo haga cantar!

Sólo cuando el viento
acaricia mis ojos
y quita las lagañas del sueño
para poder mirar…

Sólo entonces levanto mi mirada
a las altas montañas
y también al firmamento
creyendo en el momento
que existe alguien Supremo
a quien debo de amar…

 

SOMETIMES I’M A POET (English summary of above)

Sometimes I’m a Poet
when I let my thoughts fly.
When I look at nature,
when I look at the mountains
and the depth of the sky
and I realize that there is a Creator that I should love.

Only then,
in that moment…
And sometimes I’m a Poet.

*
Eileen Wingard is a freelance writer who specializes in coverage of the arts. She may be contacted via eileen.wingard@sdjewishworld.com