Member Bio: Joanna Gale
Joanna has been published in a variety of Newsletters, Chapbooks and Anthologies as well as online. She is an active member of TOPS and CFP and reads at various open mic events. She’s been a guest poet at Poetry Cafe in Oakville and has co-ordinated poetry events at Seniors Residences. In November 2007, she published her first Chapbook, Workshop Sketches, by Beret Days Press. In 2010, she was accepted as an associate member of The Canadian League of Poets. Originally from Sudbury, Ontario, Joanna now resides in Markham. She enjoys writing and hopes her poems give others the same pleasure she gets from writing them.
Poetry Prize Winner 2010 Joanna Gale took First Place in the TOPS (The Ontario Poetry Society) Contest, “Emerging from the Shadows” with PAPER SKATER and two Honourable Mentions for back then, I never knew and Etude in Purple and White. And, last month, Joanna took First Place for TOPS’ 10th Anniverary Members Only Contest, with A TIME FOR THIS posted on TOPS Website.
SORROW
my name is Sorrow i am
old i am young i am drenched
in the sweat of rain forest pain
the countless island bones drum-up
hand-cupped to my head weeping
rivers strain through fingers
bent together tight
in lotus position i rock
your touches of sadness seeping
through my hunchback muscles
sculpturing my name
(inspired by a wooden sculptured Buddah)
TOUCHSTONES
I miss the acres full of family stones
ground in through the gravel roads I travel
to see my Aunt’s face beyond hills of blue-
berry bush that covers copper nickel
and the gold rich depths I listen to
the birthplace of my naked soul rustling through
the poplar, birch and aspen trees of the north
above the mines unrefined cores of ore
beds hidden deposits under the ground
waving grasses of bull-rushes
around the bend a deep lake washes
a stream of the past surprises and flashes
across my eyes my Mother’s face outlines
in diamond streaks of rough-cut rock and granite
stone remains along my byway
***
back then, I never knew
there, in black and white, sitting on rocks by the lake
your hair upswept, held in place with bobby-pins. and
quite ‘a looker’ you at that time, though, i never knew.
back then, i wore my hair in pigtails you braided or ringlets
set in rags — leftover from those sewing machine dresses
finished off by hand, smocking or embroidery work
hours spent in your busyness of home-
baked cakes and pies and that chocolaty fudge heaven sent
fresh bread from the dough you kneaded to save money
we needed when the miner’s went on strike.
you dreamt of a wool shop or hair salon
we have the room but,
back then, a mother was a mother to sip tea with
and to talk about that perfect man we’d wed.
growing ourselves into teachers or nurses or maybe
a secretary — or airline stewardess definitely
some high-heeled lipstick glamour-help for us,
back then, the way of a woman.
Received honourable mention in The Ontario Poetry Societies Contest, ’Emerging From the Shadows’, 2010
***
The following three poems were written jointly by Joanna Gale and Sheila Texeira.
THE EAST DOOR
Slender doors open to Jacob’s ladder
The musicians – instruments arched
Upon their backs – climb
Curved stringers.
Octaves play through columns
Lifting disciples who follow His
way
Proclaiming the gospel’s
Equality for all people.
Where once musicians wrote
We lean into inspiration, our notes
On slants and shelves.
THE ARK
A temple
Within
A temple
The Word
Cushioned on velvet
NO. 4 CURRENT
He had a black scarf. He could read and write. He seemed
a gentleman all right. His script was neat, boxed with other
items accessible to a padlock unlocked. Perhaps not.
Was he returning from that Political Meeting noted?
No rights to anything except this small metal trunk, black
scarf, quill, letter and other artifacts? No accession number?
This gentleman seemed to be off. His luggage, lost with the
key. Locked. Perhaps it was unlocked. Was anything
removed before found?
The spectacle case was most dignified.
Trenton to Toronto
who are these soldiers of an Afghan war?
who fight to restore
another land on another shore
Banners of Canada
wait and wave over
pass overpass over
marks the Memorial Route passes
underneath
the envoys that carry each
fallen soldier’s passage
racing horns of honor
home on grandstand
maple-leaf salutes
for where they’ve been
for what they’ve done
brave
Icon’s
quest in history
rolls past The Highway
Heroes turnoff at Port Hope
the flags lowered
the ributes raised
Trenton to Toronto
‘lest we forget’
***
only moonbeams
my fingers loosely hold a diamond’s light,
protected in the tiffany case, my palm
becomes, like a shell to sheild the treasure
within. rays filter through flesh
from the jewel. no sun
to keep it warm.
only moonbeams
my heart floats.
April 15th, 2010 at 5:05 pm
Only Moonbeams is my favourite. It really moves me. You have a precious gift and I sense you nurture it. Namaste, Betty