Have You Ever?

Imagine thirty creatures
Remotely resembling women
In a dark filthy kennel of a cell
With a toilet bowl and
A dirty sink shared by all.

Everyone is shivering with cold.
No vacant room on the stone bench.
Some snore on the concrete floor.
Others step on them when
Passing by and swear.

No hair pins, no shoe laces,
No garbage containers either.
Twice a day they get liquid food
Which tastes like nothing.
Disposed cups are all over the place.

Every now and then
The disturbing iron door is opened
And a name is called out.
Mischievous clicking of handcuffs
Drives everyone crazy.

If it takes a woman too long to get
To her feet as her joints become
Unbearably stiff, they would not wait
And take somebody else, forgetting about her
For a long humiliating while.

Screwed drug-longing bodies
Of whores and thieves scream with spasm.
Ache and fatigue dim their eyes down.
Devastated souls vaguely remember life.
Have you ever been through this hell?

Farida Samerkhanova  lives in Toronto, Ontario.  Her letters to the editor have appeared in the magazines Elle Canada, Canadian Stories and Canadian Immigrant. Within the past few years, her poems, short stories, and essays have been published in numerous publications.

To inquire about Farida Samerkhanova’s work, e-mail farida203@yahoo.com.

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Terence K. Stephens recently returned to San Francisco after spending
some time pursuing artistic endeavors in Salt Lake City and Seattle.

From his playful portraits to his vivid landscapes to his wild orchids,
Terence’s art inspires the imaginations of people all over the world.

His artwork includes figurative painting and sculptures, landscapes,
flowers, and portraits, including pets. His inspirations are travel and
everyday experiences. His goal is to have art experienced by everyone he
encounters.

Live or Die: A Stroke of Good Luck, by Richard L. Burns, reviewed on Sept. 25, 2010 by Floyd A. Logan, San Rafael, CA.

Richard Burns of California wrote a 160 page memoir and self help book published in 2008.

Richard was one of the premier advertising executives in the 1960s. His ad campaigns for airlines, restaurants and personal products were iconic.

Richard was part of the group that thought of painting smiles on the noses of planes. They understood the catchy appeal of those “fruit of the loom” characters in their colorful costumes.  He achieved a high level of success by age 38, when he seemed to have all that anyone could want; a loving wife, three healthy children, and the knowledge that some of his ideas had a direct and lasting influence on American culture.

It was then, at the relatively young age of thirty-eight, that Richard was felled by a massive cerebral hemorrhage.  There was severe cranial bleeding, with almost no detectable brain function. Immediately following the stroke, he suffered total paralysis.  The doctors came to his wife, Nancy, and said “there is nothing we can do, you should make arrangements.”  Nancy even wrote an obituary describing Richards’ life, his epic career, and his closeness with his family. All vital signs had become muted or absent.  In essence, Richard L. Burns died on Dec. 26, 1968.  Nancy’s immediate concerns included selecting which flowers would be at his funeral service.

Floyd Logan lives in San Rafael.  He is a Literature enthusiast and amateur writer.  If you have questions or comments about his review, he can be contacted by email at floydalogan@gmail.com

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It’s a girl!

As I waited on B St.,
New friends entered my life,
Calling me “Buddy,” asking for dimes,
Wandering off, aimlessly, but for one–
A small lady with staring eyes–
Who mumbled, three feet from me,
And stared, three feet from me,
And mumbled and stared
And mumbled and stared,
Stared and mumbled
As I replied “I don’t know,
I don’t know, I don’t know”
To her monologue unintelligible
And wondered how she came
To this place,
Embracing her coffee cup,
Mumbling at strangers,
With no place to go
After such a promising start
As the apple of her mother’s eye.

Bruce Roberts, 2010

Bruce Roberts is a poet, sculptor, and schoolteacher from Hayward, California – and the winner of the 2010 Hayward Poetry Slam! He may be reached at brobe60491@sbcglobal.net.

Jon McNeal is a photographer and architect from San Francisco, California.

STATEMENT FROM THE ARTIST:
“My act of interpretation is in highlighting the unusual, absurd, or sublime in a place or object as found, whether it has formed naturally or been heavily shaped by human activity.  What fascinates me most is that understanding that everything in my photographs is in transition, whether large or small in scale.  Holding a moment still with an image is a key means of identifying and defining that momentum of change.  My hope is that the forces that drive the metamorphosis of the subject are brought to light by holding it still for a moment and observing that instant carefully.  We look for clues to its past and future, while perhaps glimpsing a bit of our own.”

Website: www.jonmcneal.com
Contact info: jon@jonmcneal.com

Dear Jesus,

I saw you at church today, in the upraised arms of a man as he worshiped our Father God.  As his words overflowed with love, singing to our Heavenly Father, I heard your voice.  As he swayed with joy filling his very spirit I saw yours within him.  I watched you my Lord, drawn by your love as you shun through the spirit of this man, whom I did not know.  I knew it was you.

I pointed you out to my young son who stood at my side and he too recognized you, his face lighting up with a genuine joyous smile.  I saw you in this man who so reminded me of my very own brother who I carry in my prayers.  You know him Jesus.  My heart began to yearn, then I heard you Lord as you spoke to me, “Your brother too will soon be as this man, filled with my spirit as he outwardly portrays his love in worship and upraised arms.  Be comforted my daughter, rejoice in the knowledge that I carry your brother in the palm of my hand.  You entered my heart and brought me peace.

I was moved to speak to this man as the morning service came to an end to tell him how his love for you touched my heart, how you radiated through his very being!  I had to tell him the blessing he was to me this morning.  I gave him my brief story, you know it, you heard it, you were there, and he gave me his.

Blanca Jones welcomes feedback on her writing and may be reached at blancajones@att.net.

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