The Tookany Review
Fall/Winter 2005 Poetry written by Cheltenham Adult School Workshop Participants
poems
In this issue
Norman Auerbach
Edited by Deborah Fries
At this
time, the Tookany Review
is only accepting the work of
writers who are enrolled
or have been enrolled in
Cheltenham Adult School
writing workshops.
For
more information about
writing workshops offered by
the Cheltenham Township Adult School, contact:
Cheltenham Township Adult
School
1414 Panther Road
Wyncote, PA 19095
Phone: 215-887-1720
Debra Leicht
Two poems
Five Twenty Nine Revisited
5 29 from Penn Station, stone tired as we head south
The walls are chalk pink, the windows flash billboards
“Edison Park Fleet”, “Silver Star Auto Sales”,
“See It Now Remember It Forever”
Five years past, train heading south, I am again flint tired
Chalk pink walls, gloved girls bearing Bento boxes
streaming towards temples and Kirin beer.
Through the windows, Japan flashes by fast.
In Hiroshima, across from the Shukkeien gardens, we
rested. The gardens, carefully crafted, lakes lush with orange Koi
Here, words intrigue me as never before
Because, here, they have become simply sounds.
In Iwakuni, at the west base of the wooden bridge,
an officer dressed in white, with golden buttons and braid, hand raised,
yelled from the far shore. Was he waging war,
or, perhaps, calling for his absent wife?
Here, it is clear that often we misread what others speak.
Here, my language map lay useless, leaving me nodding, mimicking
like a child learning to speak yet again,
I’ll take this as wisdom and take it home.
5 29 the murmuring passengers, calling home.
The air is knitted with strands of shopping lists,
prayers and the need to retell, to judge, to justify
The Kindergarten Skills
Late August 1964, my responsibilities clearly laid out
I, at five, had two goals to reach before gaining admittance
to kindergarten.
Goal One – to tie my shoes
Goal Two – to tell time
Here is what I see, here is what I remember
A door jamb, a linoleum floor, a sleeping beagle.
Fading tans, ponytails and an air of concentration.
We sit studying, my mother and I, heads together
My mother, she who smokes Camels, drinks high balls, and frosts birthday
cakes,
is teaching me, revealing to me the ways of the world.
Patient teacher, she guides my hands then nods as I work the knots on my
own.
Patient teacher, she moves the hands of the red plastic clock in a myriad of
riddles of time.
Patient teaching is the greatest kindness, steeped in a certain faith in the
learner, a passing of a skill.
Learning, plowing the ruts of repetition.
My mother, my first audience, applauding my small victories, while the dog
yawns.
The tantalizing promise of paste, finger paint and mystery of cursive
letters call me
Fuel me, me in my brown corduroy jumper.
Early September 1964, at 8:15 am, with my scuffed saddle shoes securely tied
I climb the stairs to kindergarten, that round room with the endless
windows.
Debra Leicht is a third year student of Cheltenham Adult School's Poetry class. She has a BA in Art History from Rutgers University and is interested in the opportunity to paint with words that writing poetry offers. Debra is a manager in an estimating department for a national printing company and lives in Huntingdon Valley, PA.