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Silver Tears and Time
by Sharmagne Leland-St. John
2006, Quill and Parchment Press
48 pages, $14.95
Review by David Matthews
Silver Tears and Time is an apt title for this collection of
poems that turn so often on the passage of time, varieties of loss, and
the power of memory to sustain us in our living.
The opening poem, "Wild Dark Love Song," is dedicated to
Richard Sylbert, who died in 2002. The poet's loss is depicted in images
of stark landscape, autumn, winter. She imagines her husband has
"gone to live in jagged mountains," gone to dwell
In the shadow of the Cader Idris
In misty mountains,
Where meadowlarks are known to wing,
And wild geese fly,
Across the winter sky.
Yet there is not a trace of self-pity, nor denial that he is gone, his
death real, as Leland-St. John weaves from memory and loss poems and
songs that feed her spirit — and ours. "He's gone from her
forever / This wild dark love song."
"Windy City 2003," also a remembrance of Richard Sylbert,
shows a poet as much at home in urban settings as in the wild. Here the
sense of loss is even more palpable, "the windy city has lost its
breath / and soul without you here," as she remembers the streets
they used to wander, their old stomping grounds that in his absence have
lost their magic spell:
the art galleries echo
but it's your voice I long to hear
explaining all the paintings and sculptures
now empty and alone
memories etched on canvas carved in stone
Finally, the memory is not of the city but of the loved one, "your
memory etched in the marrow of my bone." With memory may come the
pain of loss, but with it comes too a greater richness, for having known
and loved this person, a richness that will always be as much part of
who the poet is as the marrow of her bone.
Poems dedicated to cultural icons (George Harrison, Janis Joplin) place
Leland-St. John's coming of age with the generation of the 1960s. The
opening lines of "Desert Nights," for George Harrison,
"PBS Reno / just played / the Concert for George," establish
the poem's setting. Stepping outdoors, where the moon is bright, she
finds that the brisk night, with the crunch of ice beneath her feet,
calls up memory of "a bundled up childhood / of sledding / down
white hillocks / in a small Eastern town / so far away in time and
memory."
The poet is struck by the conjunction of art, artifice, human creation,
and nature. The night sky above this high desert plain and George
Harrison's music together deliver a sense of connection to a greater
whole that exists independently of subjective consciousness.
To see the night sky
in all its glory,
and to hear George Harrison's music
lilt across this high desert plain,
is breathtaking.
And to know glaciers were right here
long ago.
This was the very edge of them,
for a while.
A strong connection is growing.
Sitar strings sing
and reverberate
in this desert night,
his music still flowing.
"On the River Boat That Day" tells of lovers who drifted
apart. The poet remembers a time when "'you' and 'me' was still
'we.'" The images are light and airy, "that day / with the sun
/ behind your fair hair / like a halo." It did not last. The lovers
have gone their separate ways. Still, she is reminded
of your halo hair
and the smile
you wore
on the river boat
that day
as we drifted
so far apart
Memories of love past and lost — here and in poems about the poet's father, affairs that did not last, friends and lovers who have gone their separate ways — may be bittersweet, but never bitter. Even in loss these memories serve to sustain, never diminish..
Silver Tears and Time closes not with a poem but with a short,
prose anecdote titled "My Buddha Garden." Leland-St. John
tells of finding her mother's porcelain Buddha on her brother's patio
after he died. She took the Buddha to the house she and her husband bought on
the Stillaguamish River, where they planned to retire, and placed it on
the deck along with pots and Tupperware, anything that would hold
potting soil and the seeds she brought with her from the Pacific
Northwest and her home in Southern California.
The rains came, and the tiny seeds began to sprout. The herbs began to
bloom and flower, and my deck came to be called "My Buddha
Garden." Now there are small terra cotta flowerpots all along the
railings, overflowing with columbines, and cosmos and Canterbury bells,
and nasturtiums and geraniums....
I thank my mother for this belated gift and for the joy she always
brought me. Then I relax, in her white wicker chair, with the rose
chintz cushions, at my glass-topped table, and feel her spirit all
around me, as the bees hum and the river sings.
The poems of Silver Tears and Time pull no punches about the loss
that is so much a part of life, and for that these poems are all the
stronger in their affirmation of life, bearing witness to the capacity
of memory and memento — and art — to enrich our world and nourish
our spirits.
Unsung Songs
by Sharmagne Leland-St. John
2006, Quill and Parchment Press
38 pages, $12.95
Review by David Matthews
Sharmagne Leland-St. John writes straight from the heart as true
poets do. Unsung Songs exhibits a wide range of interests,
themes, and tones, from the romantic lyricism of "Oh Life,"
exemplified by these lines: "Love where have you gone / Just when I
thought I'd found you / Snowflakes dance like feathers round my
head" to the deadpan puncturing of the male ego and its assumption
of sexual implication where there is none in "I Said Coffee."
A woman thinks of her loved one who is far away in "I Sing You the
Morning," whose opening lines speak with elegance and simplicity,
while "I Will Dance for You" addresses issues of racial and
cultural slurs, discrimination, sensitivity, and tolerance in language
that is uncompromising in its principles without being didactic or
combative.
Unsung Songs demonstrates that Sharmagne is more than a champion
of poetry. She is a distinctive poet who breaks her own trail with
clarity and vision. This is a book to read and return to with
ever-renewed joy.
In the interest of disclosure, I should note that Sharmagne
Leland-St. John is the editor of Quill and Parchment and that I have
contributed poems to this space since shortly after its inception in
2001. Since January of this year I have served the publication as a
volunteer guest editor, although I suppose by now I am something of the
guest who came for a weekend and stayed on indefinitely.
Sharmagne will be presenting and signing her books at Book Soup
on the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles on October 11, 2007, at 7pm.
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