The Raven’s Perch published four of my poems yesterday

The Raven’s Perch is a nicely designed online journal that has won some awards. It is unusual in that it publishes your work without asking for permission, informing you at submission that it will do so if your work is accepted. Anyway, I was pleased to see the note in my inbox. There has been a lot going on in the writing world this past few months as I continue planning for the book launch, poetry readings, and hustling my book to bookstores. I must say my early efforts have been mixed. It seems everybody and their sister has a book to sell, and bookstores are claiming not enough shelf space or staffing to handle it all. I hope to survive the promotion of this chapbook with my idealism intact.

When I start to feel overwhelmed, I go back to writing, messing around with words trying to say exactly what a poem needs to say.

Here are the poems

Water Levels
			for Karin

We were friends, but different.
I loved her loud laughter as it ripped
raucous down staid hallways. Proper
professionals tried to shush her.  Didn't work.

She admired my cooking, the
let's take it on the road 	headful
of ideas, my penchant for planning.  

We both worshiped the water. Once
visited Niagara.  Shouldered our way as close 
as we could get.  Got really wet.
		stood gaping
at the spectacle.

Each spring we skipped lunch 
to follow the river 
from the high pond
	the higher falls, 
		 lower falls, 
caught wild spray and crashes, 
	down the 
		ripple of rapids.
all the way 
to the Kennebec River.

Sat on the same rock together
Wind blew our hair, 
voices drowned out
from falls 	to rapids, 
	back 		and forth, 
grinned at each other.
Not even a drizzle now. 

She retired to Florida, 
		 I helped her cart 
it all off to Goodwill. 

Spring Coming in Maine

Sun screams its bright.  Rises up straight 
		despite clouds,
reflects brazen
		on snow.

Not the bold of bright tulips
the pale of daffodil— or any color, really
			but imagination 
fueled by intense light.

		One clear blue patch peeks
through overcast skies 
			and, in an instant,
my eyes remember and invent 
			the rumor of spring.

Hope in the days of Covid-19

In the pale morning, hope
is a child, 	willing to try anything.

At the grocery store, 
arrowed aisles, sentries, 
sanitizer advertise 
the danger of getting 
		too up-close.

Eyes peer over masks—suspicious?
Afraid? Angry?
Hard to tell, but 
	hope leaks through feeble cloth..

Do this, don't do that
wears patience thin as masks. 

Home again, safe enough
alone.  		Keep busy through
the list of daily do-this, do- that,
Hope slouches in a kitchen chair.

At night, though, 
Hope is 
About 2 a.m. my mood
drapes itself 
     over the 

Only get through the dark bits.

I sit up, stretch my neck, remember
dawn comes	 			

		Let the clock play out.
The seconds— each heart beat 
	 the fragment 
of a long minute.  

The birds begin their babble.
An uneasy light 
drifts up.
If I'm lucky I sleep.

If not, she yanks me up 
in morning's 	

Anticipating the '91 Chevy Truck

Is he coming?
The "indestructible 350"
has a familiar rumble.
Triggers me to peer out 
windows, take down 
steps two at a time.  
The truck pulls up the long hill.
I breathe deeply. A week of futile fears
and uneasy sleep disappears 
with the dust in the driveway.

Just to see the laugh in his eyes,
touch his bare head, hold those
scratchy curled fingers,
his voice warm and cranky.

The door creaks when it opens
like my favorite song.


Published by Jean Anne Feldeisen

I was born in Atlantic City, New Jersey to Mildred Shropshire and Theodore Felsberg Jr. I was raised in Galloway Township and graduated from Oakcrest High School in southern New Jersey in the Sigma 67 Class in 1967. I attended Cedar Crest College in Allentown, PA, and graduated from Stockton University in Galloway, NJ, in 1974 with degrees in Philosophy, English Literature, and (almost) music. After that, I taught piano to local children and adults in the 70s and 80s, had a catering business, "Jean's in the Kitchen," from 1980 to 1992, then went to graduate school at Rutgers Camden to obtain my Masters's Degree in Social Work. Since 1996 I have worked as a therapist and counselor, first in New Jersey for five years and then, when our family moved to Maine, in Augusta, Maine, for five years. For the past 17 years, I have had a private psychotherapy practice in Gardiner, Maine, During the pandemic, I packed up and moved my office home to Washington, Maine. On the year of my seventieth birthday, I decided to write and self-publish a memoir about our parents' World War II romance, Dear Milly. I began blogging on Medium in earnest in 2020 and have posted more than 265 stories, including a block of stories about my catering career which I hope to turn into a book in the next year. I have been writing and collecting poetry since childhood but never showed it to anyone. Recently, I learned how valuable it could be to join a group for feedback and support for my writing. I have taken several courses and written many poems, and recently had several poems accepted for publication. Off in a new direction, again.

One thought on “The Raven’s Perch published four of my poems yesterday

  1. All of those writings were interesting, especially Covid. A real trial for everyone during that time! Nice, Jean..continued success!


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