Tag: Jacqueline Jules

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

~ ONE ART ~ 3 Comments

Yarn and Hook

I wind the soft yarn
over a small metal hook,
pull through two loops,
wind again and pull through.

Repeat. Double Stitch. Repeat.
Again and again. Until a half inch
rises from the last edge finished.

Mental health experts extol
this motion of yarn and hook,
hands busier than the brain.

Praise it as mindful as meditation.

On winter nights. Crochet calls.
Lures me to the couch.

Where I sit, weaving warm colors
back into my life, strand by strand,
taming listless thoughts with sturdy stitches,
joining loops into patterns I control.

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In Memoriam
Katherine Janus Kahn, Children’s Book Illustrator and Fine Artist

Ten years ago, after coming home
from a funeral for a mutual friend,
you told me you took your poodle
straight to the park.

No stopping to change clothes
or even heels, you said you grabbed
the leash and left for a field where
your curly pup could scamper and bark.

You told me you needed to see life
playing, prancing in the grass after
a sad morning of saying goodbye.

Now, at your graveside, I recall
the day I came to your studio,
your right arm waving with a flourish,
like Vanna White in Wheel of Fortune,
your passion for art vibrant
as the paintings on the wall.

And the day you arrived
with two feather boas.
One for you, one for me.

How we posed for pictures. Your smile
as radiant as your red hair.

*

Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press, and Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications including ONE ART, Amethyst Review, Offcourse, and Poem Alone. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

Featured Reading: Sunday, February 9, 2pm Eastern

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ONE ART’s February 2025 Featured Reading

 

Featured Poets: Alison Lubar, Sean Kelbley, Jacqueline Jules, Dick Westheimer, Julie Weiss

Sunday, February 9, 2pm Eastern

Tickets available here (Free or Donation)

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Reading format:

The reading is expected to 1.5 to 2 hours, followed by approximately 30 minutes Q&A / Community discussion. 

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Alison Lubar teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary, biracial femme whose life work has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices to young people. Their poetry collection, The Other Tree, was the recipient of Harbor Editions’ 2024 Laureate Prize, and is set to be published in September 2025. They’re the author of four chapbooks: Philosophers Know Nothing About Love (Thirty West, 2022), queer feast (Bottlecap Press, 2022), sweet euphemism (CLASH!, 2023), and It Skips a Generation (Stanchion, 2023), as well as one full-length, METAMOURPHOSIS (fifth wheel press, 2024). Find out more at http://www.alisonlubar.com/ or on Twitter @theoriginalison.

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Sean Kelbley lives on a farm in Appalachian Ohio and works as a primary school counselor. In addition to ONE ART, his poetry has appeared in Rattle, Sheila-Na-Gig Online, Still: The Journal, Sugar House Review, and other wonderful journals and anthologies.

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Jacqueline Jules is a former librarian who was intrigued by every book she put on the shelf. As a reader and as a writer, she doesn’t restrict herself to one topic or genre. She is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, (winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press), Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023), and over fifty books for young readers including My Name is Hamburger, the Zapato Power series, and Never Say a Mean Word Again. Her poetry has appeared in over one hundred publications. She has received the Library of Virginia Cardozo Award, the Spirit First  Poetry Award,  the  Sydney  Taylor  Honor  Award,  an Aesop Accolade, the SCBWI Magazine Merit Award, and the Arlington Arts Moving Words Award. She lives on Long Island near Manhasset Bay and walks along the water every chance she gets. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

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Dick Westheimer lives in rural southwest Ohio with his wife and writing companion, Debbie. He is winner of the 2023 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Rattle Poetry Prize finalist. His poems have appeared in Only Poems, Whale Road Review, Rattle, Gasmius, and Minyan. His chapbook, A Sword in Both Hands, Poems Responding to Russia’s War on Ukraine, is published by SheilaNaGig. More at www.dickwestheimer.com

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Julie Weiss (she/her) is the author of The Places We Empty, her debut collection published by Kelsay Books and two chapbooks, The Jolt and Breath Ablaze: Twenty-One Love Poems in Homage to Adrienne Rich, Volumes I and II, published by Bottlecap Press. Her second collection, Rooming with Elephants, is forthcoming in 2025 with Kelsay Books. “Poem Written in the Eight Seconds I Lost Sight of My Children” was selected as a 2023 finalist for Best of the Net, she won Sheila-Na-Gig´s editor´s choice award for “Cumbre Vieja,” and she was a finalist for the Saguaro Prize. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Burningword Journal, Gyroscope Review, ONE ART, Up the Staircase Quarterly, and others. She lives with her wife and children in Spain. You can find her at https://www.julieweisspoet.com/.

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ONE ART’s February 2025 Reading feat. Alison Lubar, Sean Kelbley, Jacqueline Jules, Dick Westheimer, Julie Weiss

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Sunday, February 9 — 2pm (Eastern)

Duration: ~ 2 hours


Featured Poets: Alison Lubar, Sean Kelbley, Jacqueline Jules, Dick Westheimer, Julie Weiss


Tickets available here (Free or Donation)

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~ About The Featured Poets ~

Alison Lubar teaches high school English by day and yoga by night. They are a queer, nonbinary, biracial femme whose life work has evolved into bringing mindfulness practices to young people. Their poetry collection, The Other Tree, was the recipient of Harbor Editions’ 2024 Laureate Prize, and is set to be published in September 2025. They’re the author of four chapbooks: Philosophers Know Nothing About Love (Thirty West, 2022), queer feast (Bottlecap Press, 2022), sweet euphemism (CLASH!, 2023), and It Skips a Generation (Stanchion, 2023), as well as one full-length, METAMOURPHOSIS (fifth wheel press, 2024). Find out more at http://www.alisonlubar.com/ or on Twitter @theoriginalison.

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Sean Kelbley lives on a farm in Appalachian Ohio and works as a primary school counselor. In addition to ONE ART, his poetry has appeared in Rattle, Sheila-Na-Gig Online, Still: The Journal, Sugar House Review, and other wonderful journals and anthologies.

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Jacqueline Jules is a former librarian who was intrigued by every book she put on the shelf. As a reader and as a writer, she doesn’t restrict herself to one topic or genre. She is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, (winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press), Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023), and over fifty books for young readers including My Name is Hamburger, the Zapato Power series, and Never Say a Mean Word Again. Her poetry has appeared in over one hundred publications. She has received the Library of Virginia Cardozo Award, the Spirit First Poetry Award, the Sydney Taylor Honor Award, an Aesop Accolade, the SCBWI Magazine Merit Award, and the Arlington Arts Moving Words Award. She lives on Long Island near Manhasset Bay and walks along the water every chance she gets. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

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Dick Westheimer lives in rural southwest Ohio with his wife and writing companion, Debbie. He is winner of the 2023 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and a Rattle Poetry Prize finalist. His poems have appeared in Only Poems, Whale Road Review, Rattle, Gasmius, and Minyan. His chapbook, A Sword in Both Hands, Poems Responding to Russia’s War on Ukraine, is published by SheilaNaGig. More at www.dickwestheimer.com

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Julie Weiss (she/her) is the author of The Places We Empty, her debut collection published by Kelsay Books and two chapbooks, The Jolt and Breath Ablaze: Twenty-One Love Poems in Homage to Adrienne Rich, Volumes I and II, published by Bottlecap Press. Her second collection, Rooming with Elephants, is forthcoming in 2025 with Kelsay Books. “Poem Written in the Eight Seconds I Lost Sight of My Children” was selected as a 2023 finalist for Best of the Net, she won Sheila-Na-Gig´s editor´s choice award for “Cumbre Vieja,” and she was a finalist for the Saguaro Prize. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Burningword Journal, Gyroscope Review, ONE ART, Up the Staircase Quarterly, and others. She lives with her wife and children in Spain. You can find her at https://www.julieweisspoet.com/.

Watching Cabaret by Jacqueline Jules

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Watching Cabaret

Forty some years ago,
I saw Cabaret in a college theater.

The female lead was barely five feet. Her lover
hardly a head taller. Both beautiful with big voices,
just toy-sized against the backdrop of 1930s Berlin
and the Nazi rise to power.

Brilliant casting, I thought, getting up
from my seat, though I’ll never know
if the student director chose lopsided
stature to make a political statement
or if our small private school didn’t have
a bigger pool of actors to choose from.

But these days as I worry my country
is dancing away from democracy to march
in goose step, it feels as if I’m a petite actor
surrounded by taller figures
noisily crowding the stage.

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Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press, and Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

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Water Lilies

Large pancake-shaped leaves
hover in clusters on water
as still as an oil painting.

Monet spent years in a garden
like this, capturing the light
and the color on canvas.

I stand on a stone bridge,
remembering Monet,
and wishing I could paint myself
as a floating flower, anchored
by a long stem firmly rooted
beneath a surface
that never ripples.

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I’ve Never Liked Roller Coasters

So I shouldn’t be surprised
by how miserable I am
riding with him now
in a rickety car destined
to plunge at high speed.

His cancer twists and turns
at 300 feet above the ground.
Each time it slows, the pace picks up,
and we’re tossed from side to side,
too dizzy to scream.

“Be grateful,” my cousin says.
“He’s doing better.”

For how long?

Will we have a full week this time?
Each day delighting us, by eating more,
walking more, staying alert longer,
before he’s suddenly feverish again.

No, I’ve never liked roller coasters,
never found a racing heart to be a thrill,
not even the relief of stepping out of the car,
shaken but okay, has ever pleased me.

So my knuckles stay white
as I grip the safety bar, wishing—
not wishing—for the ride to end.

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Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press, and Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

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Without An Intermission

Following the news
I feel like I’m watching
one of those movies where
the character suffers on and on
through one challenge after another
only to end after three hours
with a cryptic scene I can’t tell
is hopeful or not.

I’ll accept that Happily Ever After
only exists in some parts of Movie Land
but couldn’t we at least have
intermissions, like the old days
when we watched movies in palaces
with red velvet curtains and chandeliers.

Ghandi was the last major film
to have a built-in break
and that ends with the hero’s ashes
scattered over the Ganges.

What does that foretell for me
if I stay tuned in to the headlines
without an intermission?

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Double Zippers on His Backpack

He asked me this morning,
as I packed his lunch, to pull
the double zippers to the top.
It’s easier for him to open
when he’s hooked to machines.

We are quiet on the drive over,
except for a few pleasantries
about how we hope this session
won’t take as long as the last one,
maybe the nurses won’t be as busy
and there won’t be a lag between
the pre-meds and the chemo.

We don’t discuss how he’s offering
his veins for another eight weeks
to elicit an extension, not a cure.

The words feel double zipped
inside the laden bag
he slings over his thin shoulder
before he waves goodbye.

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Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press, and Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications. Visit her online at jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

~ ONE ART ~ 1 Comment

Sleeping Swans

I pause by the water to stare
at white feathered bodies
floating so peacefully limp
they appear to be dead.

How can swans sleep
with their heads tucked
beneath their wings?

Another question I can’t answer
as I amble along a path
winding past boats on one side
and cruising cars on the other.

The day is dense with clouds
consuming the light I need
to see what lies ahead.

How long will the sky remain
overcast without pouring rain?

I don’t even know if my legs
will last another mile.

I could trip or get a cramp,
anything could happen
between now and the time
I reach my favorite bench
to view the missing horizon.

Just like my beloved could fall
again or have another fever
in the house where he waits for me,
too frail to join my walks.

When he drifts off during the day,
I watch him like these swans, afraid
his awkward slouch means
he will not wake from his chair.

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I’ll Be There Now

“Are you afraid of lice?” my son asks,
informing me he just treated the kids
he needs me to babysit.

Am I? Afraid of bugs a shampoo can kill
after three years of dodging an airborne virus
which shut down the world for months on end?

Keeping six feet apart was sensible once.
Until isolation became an ingrained habit.

At the height of it, I asked for
backwards hugs, avoiding droplets
from little noses and mouths

So now that they’re back in school,
kissing hair, not cheeks is risky too.

I’m at an age when the muscle that pumps
my blood could fail with less warning
than a sore throat progressing to a cough.

How long can I wait to embrace the life
I stayed alone in my house to protect?

“Don’t worry,” I tell my son.
“I’ll be there as planned at 6.”

*

Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021), Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press, and Smoke at the Pentagon: Poems to Remember (Bushel & Peck, 2023). Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications. jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

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Dr. Tonkin’s Model of Grief

After I finish the five stages with Kubler-Ross
I try Tonkin’s model, depicted in graphic terms
as a gray circle gradually taking less
space in an expanding sphere.

I picture my grief inside a glass jar.
It stays the same size, while the jar
grows, becoming a vessel
larger than my loss.

A nicer image, I think,
than climbing steps
in a stadium until my grief is only
a tiny figure on the floor below.

I will always live in the house
where you took your last breath.

But since then, I’ve added rooms.
One has a picture window. Another
a cozy fireplace. A third where I
entertain friends you’ve never met.

And when I talk about you
in this bigger house, I know
I haven’t left you behind,
just given us both more space
to comfortably exist.

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Idioms to Manage Worry

If I try to “let it go,” as is often advised,
I think of a leaf floating down a brook
or a dragonfly buzzing away—
something that leaves my sight,
never to return.

Not every grief can disappear.

Not every worry is light enough
to drift away.

But I can envision “letting it drop.”

Like a rucksack filled for a two-day hike,
slipped off my shoulders for the night.

Or a pocketful of stones
collected on a cloudy day at the beach
and emptied into the garden
where they will smother the weeds
for a week or two.

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Jacqueline Jules (she/her) is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications including One Art, Amethyst Review, The Sunlight Press, and Gyroscope Review. Visit her online at www.jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

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Maybe the Cherry Tree Remembers

My old neighbor texted me today,
with a photo of the blooming cherry
in my former front yard, thanking me
for the view from her window
I never knew she enjoyed.

Funny how I’d thought every trace
of our 26 years in that red brick house
had been loaded into the long white van,
lumbering out of the driveway
on a crisp November evening.

Certainly the staircase
we climbed every night to bed,
the stainless steel sink
where we washed our pink dishes,
the deck out back never used enough—
they don’t mourn our absence
as new owners move in
to paint and carpet over
any marks we left behind.

But maybe the cherry tree remembers
that afternoon almost three decades ago,
when a couple came out of a red brick house
to dig a hole for a scrawny sapling
whose branches now reach to the sky.

*

The Honeybee

I almost reacted. Almost
questioned how he could dare
complain about more pots to wash
when I cooked all afternoon.

Then I remembered the honeybee,
how it dies a gruesome death
when its stinger embeds
in human skin. The bee tears
a hole in its belly pulling out
the sac of venom.

A honeybee values peace.
It only stings when threatened,
not over something as petty
as who cooked and who cleaned up.

And certainly not when it could rest,
like I am right now, with feet up
on the couch, while my honey
loads the dishwasher
and scrubs every pot.

*

Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications including One Art, The Sunlight Press, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Hospital Drive, and Imitation Fruit. Visit her online www.jacquelinejules.com

Contronym by Jacqueline Jules

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Contronym

As a noun, “rock” is a stationary stone.
As a verb, it unsettles or shakes.

“Trip” can be a journey or a stumble.

“Finished” could mean
completed or destroyed.

If a word can contradict itself,
it’s not so odd to pray.

To thank a Source of blessing
and not blame a Source of grief.

After all, the word “cleave,”
could be clinging or cutting.

“Sanction” is approval or boycott.

And prayer changes me,
not the world.

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Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications including ONE ART, The Sunlight Press, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Hospital Drive, and Imitation Fruit. Visit her online www.jacquelinejules.com

What’s Left Unspoken by Jacqueline Jules

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What’s Left Unspoken

Years ago, I sat with my father
on a varnished bench with iron arms,
watching him pull a frayed white hanky
from his breast pocket.

“You have your own life,” he said,
dabbing eyes the color of the stained
tile on the station floor.

“The way it should be.”

I patted his knee and picked up
the suitcase he was too frail to carry.

We walked to an empty platform
where a uniformed man helped him climb
three metal stairs and hobble aboard
a train headed west.

I promised myself to phone
and visit more often.

Today, I wave goodbye to my son
and his pregnant wife as they board
a crowded train headed east.

I hear my father’s brittle voice
as they wave from the window
mouthing promises
they cannot keep.

*

Jacqueline Jules is the author of Manna in the Morning (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her poetry has appeared in over 100 publications including One Art, The Broome Review, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Hospital Drive, and Imitation Fruit. Visit her online www.jacquelinejules.com

Two Poems by Jacqueline Jules

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Radioactivity

When I think of Marie Curie carrying
radioactive tubes in the cotton pockets
of her lab coat, admiring blue-green light
emanating from her desk drawer;
how all her research, even her cookbook,
must now be stored in a lead-lined box,
I am reminded that no one,
not even the most brilliant of minds
knows everything.

And it helps me to live
in a world where so many don’t see
the dangers I see; helps me believe
that one day we could learn
to recognize poison and take
the proper precautions.

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The Wholeness of a Broken Heart

There is nothing more whole than a broken heart. –Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk

What is a whole heart?
One that remembers
how it feels
to be ripped apart.
One that can hear
another heart breaking.

A whole heart does not judge.
It forgives, knowing fear
and frustration rise faster
than reflection.

A whole heart
embraces what is,
without forgetting
what has been lost.

*

Jacqueline Jules is the author of three chapbooks including Itzhak Perlman’s Broken String, winner of the 2016 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize from Evening Street Press. Her work has appeared in over 100 publications including Lowestoft Chronicle, The Paterson Literary Review, Cider Press Review, Potomac Review, Inkwell, Hospital Drive, and Imitation Fruit. Visit her online at https://metaphoricaltruths.blogspot.com/