Such strange events happen on Hallows’ Eve:
Garden gates taking flight to land on roofs,
Large farm wagons standing on their ends,
Strange symbols appearing on our windows.
Sometimes a noise at the door,
But there is never anyone there
Except when those witches, goblins
And ogres shout, “Trick or Treat!”
Then stand and wait.
At times, after the midnight games, I can hear
The ghosts or ogres and goblins wailing.
There, do you hear that wild cry?
Could that be a banshee in the meadow?
Hurry, lock the doors, pull down the shades,
Turn off all the lights and quickly hide.
Then came the rattling of chains on the porch,
But when Dad opened the door,
It was just our neighbors come to party
For the rest of All Hallows’ Evening.
MEMORY OF A PERFORMANCE OF “HAIR”
It was protest in a time of protests. It was a song of joy sung by dreamers in a time of dreamers in search of joy. It was a record of reality: rainbow illusions becoming khaki and guns. It was already a memory of a promise lost in the yesterdays of misbegotten heroes, children without parents, and charlatans.
Yet, they sang—the players and the audience in the theater—at the final moment as if the dream was not already lost but alive and theirs to hold that night.
I joined in the song, my tears falling for all the lost hopes, as together we all sang and sang again: “Let the sun shine, let the sun shine…”
SPACE CHALLENGE
There is a storehouse of delight,
billion-globed in the night,
a treasure there but for the finding
and knowing how to reach the site.
IN MEMORY OF NILE
When the First World War began, my mother was not yet two years old. When it ended, she was six. Her father and both his brothers had enlisted in the Marines during this war. Only one served outside the US, her father’s younger brother Nile.
Though she never was sure where exactly he served, my mother fondly remembered Nile calling her his “little chiquita,” a term he had learned while he was away. I have since learned he was stationed as a lowly orderly serving in the officers’ mess in Cuba. Nile died in 1919 not long after the war ended, but not of injuries.
If it surprises you that Cuba figured in the strategies of the First World War, you are like me. Neutral for much of the war, their Red Cross served on the European battlefront for some time. Finally after a many futile protests sent to the German government about the continued indiscriminate sinking of the ships of non-combatant countries by German submarines, the island nation finally declared war April 7, 1917
Cuba had diseases for which a young man from West Virginia was unprepared. Nile contracted a recurring fever while there which plagued the days of his return home after the war. Before the war Nile often performed as a singer at local events. He sang everywhere. At home he sang along with the performers on the radio and would often sing the arias of opera from the records in the family’s collection.
One Friday, he was singing just for fun on a street corner. A car passed near carrying a talent scout from the New York Metropolitan Opera on his way to Pittsburgh. He stopped to give Nile his card and set up an audition for the following Monday. It was just three days away, but it was an appointment Nile could not keep, for on Saturday his fever returned and he lost this last battle.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“SPACE CHALLENGE” is a quatrain poem included this week for the United Nations World Science Day For Peace & Development. The author was fascinated by the possibilities of space exploration.
REFRACTIONS— an essay by Kathleen Roxby
“NILE, 1919” is the retold history of the poet’s great uncle, a veteran of WW1. This poignant story was one the author’s mother often recalled as Veterans’ Day (Armistice Day) neared.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“MEMORY OF A PERFORMANCE OF HAIR” first appeared in the author’s 2001 chapbook, “Tangent/Allusion.” This newly edited version is included this week for Veterans’ Day.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR NOVEMBER 2022
MESSAGE FROM THE BUFFALO TOOTH
High grass blowing
Smell of the breathing earth
After the rain
Wind, rock, sky
Surging forward
Impelled to the next season
STALEMATE
(after viewing Monet’s painting)
The houses at the edge
of the field
are not inhabited
They stand abreast
in silent challenge
Doors are dark
windows stare
roofs are pointed and bleak
Dark clouds pursue
retreating blue of sky
and shadows fall
griming the old gray walls
A meadow of golden flowers
–marching waves of color—
halts at a vague dead-end
The houses at the end of the field
and the flowered meadow
frozen forever
in silent confrontation
It is not an uneven war
ALL HALLOW’S EVE
Such strange events happen on Hallows’ Eve:
Garden gates taking flight to land on roofs,
Large farm wagons standing on their ends,
Strange symbols appearing on our windows.
Sometimes a noise at the door,
But there is never anyone there
Except when those witches, goblins
And ogres shout, “Trick or Treat!”
Then stand and wait.
At times, after the midnight games, I can hear
The ghosts or ogres and goblins wailing.
There, do you hear that wild cry?
Could that be a banshee in the meadow?
Hurry, lock the doors, pull down the shades,
Turn off all the lights and quickly hide.
Then came the rattling of chains on the porch,
But when Dad opened the door,
It was just our neighbors come to party
For the rest of All Hallows’ Evening.
AUTHOR NOTES
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“STALEMATE” was written after a visit to the Los Angeles Museum of Art’s retrospective of the modern art which included this painting by Monet which may have been “Haystack at Sunset.” It is included this week for Stress Awareness Day, November 2.
KALEIDOSCOPE— an essay by Kathleen Roxby
“FOR HALLOWEEN: WORDS THAT MASK, HIDE AND DISGUISE” continues the author’s series on the English language, especially focused on its oddities.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“MESSAGE FROM THE BUFFALO TOOTH” was written in a poetry workshop when the author was handed a buffalo tooth for her poem’s inspiration. It is included this week for National Bison Day, November 5.