Monthly Archives: August 2020

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-23 The Cleared Place of Tara

poems by Ted Malone

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-22 afternoon crowd Poetic narrative excerpt

Many people came into my life in the few years of the mid 70s when I worked at the American House Tavern and Restaurant as a bartender. Most of them were treasures, full of character. They were who they were.

Still, there are always a few phony people tucked into the masses. Mostly they can be spotted easily by a bartender as they walk in the door. It was fun watching them rattle through their spiel, trying to impress me. I often wondered why they bothered. What was the reason behind it? Were they bolstering themselves and why did they care what the bartender thinks of them? Some of the guys were trying to make a score. When that didn’t happen, they turned to try it on the next gal who came through the doors of this old, historic building. These guys were shallow, thankfully they were few.

Historic buildings were not what the average customer was thinking about. . . .

THE HORSEY SET-arlene s bice

they came with bruised, calloused hands

coarser than sandpaper

to lift a shot of whiskey chased by a

cold mug of beer,

a reward

for hard work done out in the elements,

thanks not given


what they gave themselves;

not a lot of time

to linger; even on

Christmas Day

horses had regular schedules

to keep

and these

workers were there

to keep ‘em

they came from all parts

of the country, from

Canada, and the

Caribbean, landed here

in the center of

New Jersey,

to work on

one particular horse farm

or another;

‘how did they find us’

I wondered

some from the west or mid-west;

wasn’t that a reversal

of history?

They came as







water boys

stable hands

more on the list

of guys & gals

hard working

no shifting duties

either you were good

carrying your own weight

or you were


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-21 plus 2 poems

Where I’m From-inspired by George Ella Lyon

arlene s bice

I’m from special dinners in the dining room

tea and toast for breakfast in the kitchen

a kitchen floor filled with piles of clothes

on Mondays, waiting for the wringer washer

I’m from home baked bread, lemon meringue pies

fried ripe tomatoes in summer with milk gravy

BBQ pork & fried chicken better than the South

junket when I was sick, all a mother’s pride

I’m from clothes frozen on the line before the pin is set,

coal chutes rattling noise, filling the bin, coal dust flying

church bells on Sunday morning, waking me up

listening to  the Phillies on the radio playing baseball

on a quiet summer afternoon, playing Monopoly

or Catch ‘5’ on the Zeltt’s front porch till somebody

loses too often & gets mad, Mrs. Zeltt bringing iced tea

I’m from relay races and outdoor movies hanging

on the school on a summer night when mosquitoes

were plentiful; Wednesday afternoons walking two

miles to the swimming pool and once swimming in

our neighbor’s wooden pool that he built himself

flowers picked from the cemetery for Mother’s Day

getting caught smoking in the tree with the boys

I’m from roasting potatoes on a stick on an open fire, till they were black, snuck out of the bin in the bottom of the fridge and frogs’ legs Mom cleaned and fried for us after we caught them in the creek, sneaking eggs out of the nest in our chicken coop that had a straw smell like no other; the turkey had his own place, strutting around the small back yard, fenced so they wouldn’t get out or was it to keep other animals from getting in

I’m from American Bandstand on TV, playing hookie from school to dance before Dick Clark arrived

school dances, roller skating, and football games, movies on Friday nights, wearing lipstick, giggling over boys, tomato pies from Papa’s on Chambers Street on a Saturday night while watching Midwestern Hayride with my big brother Bob, graduating to babysitting, to  flying in a DC 9 from Chicago & a Piper Cub at 15.

I’m from a main street dividing Trenton and Hamilton, where we counted the cars going by while waiting for Mom to get herself ready; we never reached 10; washing the porch with the hose in the summer and sometimes sleeping there when it was too hot in the house; sneakers and high heels, jeans and ball gowns, lots of picnics and plenty of pictures; I’m from a lusty passion for travel that stayed with me all my life.

Where I’m From-inspired by George Ella Lyon

arlene s bice

I’m from Liberty Street between the Methodist Church 

& Cristofaro’s Memorial tombstones

the street dividing Trenton from  Hamilton Township

on the township side

I’m from walking to school with friends,

kids who stood in my yard and ‘hello-ed’ the house

by calling my name, never knocking

on the back door

Piles of clothes lay on the kitchen floor

on Mondays when the wringer washer 

got pulled up to the sink

tea & toast was breakfast

where a pink rose bush covered the fence

so pale in color that when we took pictures

in summer, petals covering the groun

like a winter snow

jigsaw puzzles spread on the old dining table

with fat oak legs rubbed shiny for holidays

summer was Catch 5, monopoly & rummy

on the front porch

swimming in Mr. Ron’s wooden pool, one he built

having no children of his own, cutting flowers

for us so we would not raid the cemetery on      

Mother’s Day

Rosie’s old husband sat on a Bentwood chair

alongside the tomato pie place sidewalk

calling to all the young girls walking by

crossing the street

two blocks away was the best vegetable garden

with tomatoes ripe, red, & juicy, the old

Italian almost caught us with tomatoes

piled in our shirts

four blocks away was Pryor’s donuts

filling the air with hot greasy aromas

making us all hungry for a warm, plump,

cream-filled donut

sleeping on the porch on hot summer nights

playing in the attic on rainy days where I’d

find my father’s leg brace in a drawer, thinking     

someday I’d be just like him.


Filed under Uncategorized


Daniels-Urbanski Tree
  1. Zoom writing/poetry workshops online, they make life easier while bringing people together who otherwise may not be able.
  2. Online writing connections through SSS and TTOT and Sealey Chapbook Challenge.
  3. Ditto
  4. Ditto
  5. Online reading poetry aloud, which enables me to meet other poets from far away places.
  6. Summer rainy, grey days feed my soul, allow me to go within, pull out the deep thoughts.
  7. Crockpots. I love my crockpot because I don’t have to interrupt my writing hours to make something to eat when I’m hungry. I only have to lift the lid and clean up later.
  8. Heartland on Netflix. I’m a relative newbie to Netflix thanks to a friend. I could watch this series for the scenic beauty of western Canada alone. Add the joy of watching horses run, work, play. Wow.  Add good writing scripts and good acting. Wow. I’m addicted.
  9. The relative ease of researching ancestors online compared  to the pre-internet days
  10. For my ancestors who have interesting histories and are still giving.


Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-20 Holding Demons in Small Jars-Jasmine Kumalah

An interesting poetic narrative of boys sent to war and the aftermath for them and the place they inhabit.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-19 plus poetry

The Gathering Place-Arlene Benden Enos

There is a magical place where I can go

It calls and beckons one and all

Here  lives a beautiful queen whose arms are open wide

To meet and greet, guide and teach to set your fears aside

Feel the magical, mystical energy everywhere you turn

Drink from the fountain of wisdom, Oh how much you learn!

Stories of angels, fairies and guides,

Spreading her love both  far and wide

The Queen is always there to lend an ear

Hold your  hand and wipe your tear

Breathe in the love that is all around

I don’t  want to leave this home I found

Thank you Dearest Ellie!

A POEM FOUND-arlene s bice

Gazing out the window this morning

readying the day with morning thoughts  

a path of light streamed through the forest

there was a poem

Words of tenderness flowed

opening my heart to sensations

for anyone and everyone,

for all seasons and reasons

the words of a poem

Yes, it’s a morning routine, yet this light

has never been seen before; beckoning

as the gentleness of a lover seeking attention

whispering a poem

It is an invitation; a bit of a memo

a reminder about love, that may be sent

with the confidence and surety

of writing a poem

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized


In many books and stories of days gone passed, you’ll find the feminine protagonist struggling to contend with her daily life troubles. Suffragettes fought long and hard and did suffer greatly for improvements for women including the vote. It pains me to know it is too much effort for so many women today to make their mark on a ballot.

Being a history buff and reading of women’s rise and their place in the world, I read memoirs and even mysteries of days from yesteryear. On rare occasions there will be one individual that will say, “Yes, do learn, be strong and strive for a better life.” Yet time and again instead of encouragement, they heard from the cook in Downton Abbey to a father’s advice, “Don’t rise above your station.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-18

Sailing on Spirit Wind=Judith Prest

Midlife Reflections-long time IWWG attendee where I met Judith

who is an artist as well as a writer.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-17

Journey of the Spirit-Judi K. Beach

Life and Labyrinth

arlene s bice

The gleeful gathering of women-friends

together on a summer eve

to walk a labyrinth.

Each woman walks in from a different place

tho starting from the same spot

to walk a life.

We advance at different lengths

tender our own measured pace

to walk the chapters.

Pausing at each level we feel the experience

recording each sensation

to walk the path.

Arriving at the end, which is also the beginning

in a new direction, all the same

yet each one different.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Sealey Chapbk Challenge-16

Heart Sounds-Lisa Joy Tomey

Poems of the Heart and of Love


Filed under Uncategorized