Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond...

December 14, 2009

“Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond” is a collection of poems, short stories and photographs of life along the shoreline of the Pacific coast. The author journeys along with the reader leaving colorful tidbits of local knowledge throughout, gleaned from years of experience enjoying the ambiance of nature. Poet on the Edge of the Back of Beyond is now available on Amazon.com. For more information about the book or to order a copy, please Click Here .

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About the Author:

Mary Ann Schallert is a poet and short story writer originally from Astoria, Oregon.

This compilation of thoughtful poetry and short stories is inspired by living and working on the Pacific Coast from Oregon to Alaska. As Mary Ann describes, snapshots of life lived along the shoreline.

An avid sailor, she explored waterways along the coast as time and work allowed, enjoying the ambiance of harbors and small towns along the way. She lived aboard the trawler, Miramar, on San Francisco Bay and Puget Sound. Later on she brought the Islander Freeport ketch, Solitude, up the west coast from San Diego. Washington’s San Juan Islands and the waters of southern British Columbia became a favorite cruising paradise.

In the early spring of 1994, Mary Ann and her family traveled up the Inside Passage aboard their sailboat, Solitude. She describes the twenty-eight day voyage as the experience of a lifetime. Along the way they explored every nook and cranny, village and inlet that seemed promising. This became a marvelous set of memories drenched in sunshine and showers, filled to the brim with waterfalls and rainbows.

Although planned as a summer trip to meet friends on another boat to explore northern waters, they found Ketchikan so friendly and inviting they settled down in Alaska for over fourteen years. She and her family kept up their boating lifestyle; fishing and exploring coves and inlets from Dixon Entrance to the northern tip of Prince of Wales Island, as well as more adventurous trips to interior Alaska from time to time.

Mary Ann and her family relocated to Ocean Shores, Washington in 2007. She continues to enjoy the outdoors along the Pacific Coast, photographing and writing of the many wonders she finds around every bend in the road.

Mary Ann is a regular contributor to GotPoetry.com under her poet name “maryanns”.

When the wind blows...

When the wind blows right through downtown Ocean Shores I always wonder how the IGA still has enough shopping carts for all of us. I imagine all the shiny blue carts running east toward Duck Lake, perhaps some of them peeling off into the trees to hide in thickets before they go off a bank and get dunked.

The wind blows hard at the IGA... why do I buy groceries on windy days? The answer is...
it blows harder in town than it does out at our house. I don't realize how windy it is in town until it's too late.

Today was still - a great day to buy groceries, except... it was twenty-two degrees. Bright sunshine without a breath of warmth, the canal froze... mallards swam right up to the icy edge and stopped short. Eventually they disappeared back the way they came. I suspect mallards have no use for ice or very cold sunny days.

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When the Wind Blows

An eerie twilight falls, I step outside
quietly observing hazy shapes
grazing in the yard…

soft brown bodies browse among the weeds
stripping green from waving moss and leaves
moving in the midst of swaying willow trees
some prance and dance among themselves
then some begin to scent a changing breeze.

Strong gusts of wind sweep leaves
across my sandy tennis shoes
leaving empty space…

concern descends in breaths of salt and surf
cascading off the tossing tops in drizzle drops
of streaming rain that chills them to the bone
then hazy grazing shades of brown move on
as shadows blend into a murky underground.

Lost in isolation beneath the eaves
chilled and shivering in silence
my apparitions vanish…

in twisted brush through tangled overgrowth
to sticky thickets choked in purple berry bush
entangled vines that wind and twine beneath
chilly hooves of wilted ghosts in velvet coats
with gentle violet eyes that glisten in the mist.

My mind is overwhelmed by shadows
blending in and out of busy lives
banished in the haze.



Everyone stay warm now.

Peace, Mary Ann

Autumn on the coast...

Autumn has arrived on the Pacific coast with a flourish of blustery storms and downpours.

I am making a valiant effort to experience the beauty of the season in brightly colored trees and fallen leaves. Yet steel gray skies and rain intrude on my psyche. I yearn to write of endings instead of cheerful copper creations peeking out among the hemlock.

I sense myself turning into a hermit. I seldom leave my six mile long by two mile wide sand spit out on the coast ... Autumn draws me inward.

Before I go down the rabbit hole entirely, I offer readers a brief respite:

Pantomime

She’s changing clothes, shifting wilted camisoles
thrown off exposing youthful skin and bone.
Her fashion once concealed bare naked innocence
revealed among her neighbors stately forms.

She’s blushed and flushed though still she stands
desire to fade and hide rooted to the ground.
Her laundry list is deep discarded at her chilly feet
showers wet her crown, shivering she frowns.

She’s safely kept her shapely place amid the rest
never spread nor shed a seedling underneath.
Her pose is spare though purposeful in due respect
can’t a limb react to shield her from neglect?

She’s numb with frost, turned to inward thoughts
of careless growth in showy summer frocks.
Her brittle frozen skin begins to sense a tiny brush
of clever sister cedar’s gentle warming touch.

I offer you one more quick glimpse of the beauty of south-central Washington from my rainy rearview mirror:

Oh, Take My Picture Please

Dreamland settles in around the bend,
I pass through upland hills as fall expands
among a wonderland of gleaming gems.
Skipping beats, my eager heart stands still;
indeed my eyes deny the glimpse I see
of autumn clothed in gold amid the green.

A treasure trove of shiny copper coin,
alight in graduated beams of warming sun
on glowing statues cast in gilded bronze.
Fairies in our midst; my imagination twists
and turns in swirls to revel in them all.
Bright red maples blaze beside a waterfall.

A drive in dreams I want to never end.
I slow as passing strangers leave the scene
they may have never even known before.
Along my way a mix of yellow hued arrays
of wily willows caught in passion plays
escape cascades of blushing poplar leaves.

Visions fade away as rural roads divide
to shoo us through with scalding overdrive.
One parting burst survives; cherry limbs
wave gaily in a crèche of concrete medians
sweet sugar kisses dancing on a breeze
flying after me. Oh, take my picture please.


Ok - Readers cannot say they haven't been warned. My next post may arrive from among slimy rocks and roots shivering below ground. Perhaps we should migrate, strive to follow the sun to the southern hemisphere.

For those who share my malady, stay strong! Don't let "Seattle gray" get you down.

Letter From IVAW...

Letter from Seth Manzel,

Iraq Veterans Against the War Board of Directors

Dear Friends,

Since the election of Obama the public perception has been that the wars are winding down and that the objectives of the peace movement are now being embodied in the Administration's policies. A common myth that is being perpetuated by the media is that we are preparing to withdraw from Iraq.

These lies that Americans are telling themselves may make them feel better about the Obama Administration, but they are of little consequence to the Soldiers who are being deployed at a rate not seen since the surge. The lies mean nothing to the families left behind by soldiers going to spend a year deployed in the most dangerous period of the conflict yet. They mean even less to the widows who will never see their partners again.

We have forgotten the people of Iraq who have to live under the corrupt and dangerous puppet government that Obama is supporting, and we are all to quick to look the other way at the dead bodies piling up in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Iraq Veterans Against the War has not forgotten these things and we are one of the few groups out there who are still speaking out on these issues. One only needs to open major publications like the New York Times, The Army Times or the Stars and Stripes to see that we are getting the word out.

But we aren't just talking about the problems. Recently, IVAW sent a delegation to Iraq to help bolster Iraqi oil unions fighting back against corrupt and exploitive oil companies. Our members were participating in direct action in the latest round of G20 protests. Some members are actively involved in pressuring politicians to end these ruinous conflicts.

IVAW needs your support to continue our work. Without continuing help from the Peace Community we could not continue our work. Please, become a sustaining donor for IVAW and help us bring about an end to these wars by clicking on this link

https://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5966/t/7584/shop/custom.jsp?donate_page_KEY=1131.

Thank you for your support,
Seth Manzel, IVAW Board of Directors

P.S.
Please repost this and spread it far and wide. Your help is appreciated.

On Obama's Nobel Peace Prize...

I, for one, have not given up
on him earning his place in history
but trust and patience is wearing thin.

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Carousel

Earth spins on an axis of horses
transformed into clouds on the wind
hearts pounding and screaming in voices
that tremble in terror and pain.

as the animals cry
as our carousel dies
it turns on its side
it rolls and it flips
the calliope tilts
the music dissolves
in chattels of gold
in pieces and parts
as riders fly off
as dust drifts aloft
it trembles and sparks
it grinds to a halt…

Peace spins on an axis of promise
transformed into clouds on the wind
dues pounding and screaming in voices
the audacity of hope never paid.



When Obama gets our service members out of Iraq and Afghanistan he will have earned the admiration of a grateful nation as well as any Nobel Prize or other treasure that may be showered upon him. When... that is the trillion dollar question.

Peace, Mary Ann

Afghanistan...

As US sponsored candidates vie for election in Afghanistan, the Afghani people walk away disinterested in foreigners re-designing parts of Kabul just to disguise the abject failure of US foreign policy and any form of democracy ever taking hold. Yeah, hand-picked President Karzai... hopes pinned on a man who fled his country and only returned to sit on a throne in Kabul backed by US special interests.

The Obama administration seems to have taken pages from the Bush/Cheney playbook, re-invent the wheel, ignore historic local culture, make millions off their big shiny war machine. Never mind the sacrifice in lives of Afghan civilians and NATO soldiers... Good grief, I can still hear Dick Cheney's voice... "they're all volunteers, who cares."

Time for change, the change we were promised.


Kandahar Airstrip - Afghanistan

Stranded on sweltering tarmac
long tan lines standing on asphalt
scorched occupied landscapes
worn parade of dug in boots
scuffed souls ready for transport.

Journalists on melting tarmac
noncombatants snap photographs
shattered spinning landscapes
sandstorms seek viewfinders
Pulitzer prize ready for transport.

Aircraft on smoldering tarmac
red hot waves of engines wind up
slipstreams sweep landscapes
resolute warriors turn away
gritty statues ready for transport.

Unloaded on miserable tarmac
flag draped stretchers end conflict
final journeys join landscapes
pain consumes dug in boots
duty remains; ready for transport.




Inspired by reports from
Helmand Provence on 8/14/09
by Lara Logan of CBS News.

Spring Symbiosis.....

Spring has finally reached the Washington Coast... it has been a long time coming this year. Each sunny day the creatures and I would wish for more, sun that is. We'd receive instead little fronts blowing in off the Pacific, dumping copious amounts of rain to prepare our fields for wildflowers later on. Today, May 16th just feels right. I keep my fingrs crossed... somewhat awkward but oh so necessary in these parts.

Symbiosis

Spring at the beach.
American bald eagles nest
in spruce trees down the street.
Tall patient sentinels
with thick dark branches,
spruce welcome all occupants.
Chattering squirrels nest
here, and the ultimate
high rise tenant is comfortable;
adult bald eagles
occupying the penthouse.
The full symbiotic relationship
in a canopied environment
fulfilling every need.
Healthy spruce cones and seeds
readily available
for busy, hungry squirrel
and you know who for the eagle.
Intelligent design, indeed;
or evolutionary need.

Enjoy your beautiful day, kite flyers and surfers. Spring must be here to stay.