...In-between sets from poet Cynthia Schwartzberg Edlow

October 24, 2022

Superb Day to Post a Link to New Poems in PLUME #133 (September issue, 2022)

Image is: from five guaches by Dike Blair, courtesy of the artist and Karma, New York City

So I'm late, by a month. As time often tells, better that than never. But I arrive with new poems (and author commentary!) in the good wishes that these two poems may be gifts from this spirit to another spirit: 

“Let’s Talk About the Beauty of Cloud Cover”

“Found Folded Note on School Composition Paper 
          Partially Added to for Classified Purposes”

And the poems' commentaries (scroll down a bit):   https://plumepoetry.com/poets-and-translators-speak-10/


January 25, 2022

Onward 2022

 A few weeks ago I received an email from the American Jewish Historical Society (AJHS) that an occasional poem I wrote for the Emma Lazarus Project: Poetry Contest was the first of two finalists, along with a winner. I was most delighted due to the fact that my poem "Dear American Lady" will be archived with Emma Lazarus' original sonnet "The New Colossus." 

In her acceptance email with the AJHS, Manager of Programs & Operations Rebeca Miller wrote, " Our judges had an incredibly tough time choosing from hundreds of incredible entries made from across the country. Only two finalists were selected for each category, and in honor of this accomplishment we have posted your poem on the AJHS website in our Poetry Gallery...[and] your poem will be placed next to the work of Emma Lazarus in the AJHS archive to be appreciated for generations to come." (italics mine) 

I have to say those are pretty stellar digs for my poem to be archived with "The New Colossus." 

And coming on the heels of my intentionally taking a break from writing/publishing the whole of 2021. 

As defined by the Poetry Foundation, an occasional poem is one written to "describe or comment on a particular event...," and generally not considered the most pleasurable of endeavors to execute, as the subject matter is handed to a poet on a prescribed platter and while not distinctly uttered, a party line is courteously insinuated. That said, "I acknowledge" the latter half of the last line of "DAL" is a party line. I felt the need to wrap it up, and I was sorely limited to 14 lines, a truncation of my natural narrative poetic voice.

Poet Lynn Melnick

As it happens, the brilliantly soulful and accomplished poet, Lynn Melnick, was teaching a series of poetry workshops via Zoom about the Statue of Liberty this past fall for the American Jewish Historical Society (AJHS). Lynn is also a friend of mine, and I was happy about three things: I would actually get to see her again (think Covid-culture), chatting, smiling, teaching, sitting at her now-famous perch window overlooking a Brooklyn avenue; she taught poetry workshops at Columbia so I was thinking, hey, let me get a listen up at what those ivy students are privy to; and what!, dealmaker! - all the workshops were free. The more I frequented Lynn's workshops, which were not many occasions but enough to warrant a serious quandary for me: Lynn had obviously prepared these polished, chock-full sessions filled with insight into the motivations of Lazarus, Jewish history at the time of the construction of the Statue/writing of "The Great Colossus," the obvious rifts in "the times" between then and now, poetic themes using contemporary poetry and the Lazarus poem, and the bigger draw of the contest the workshops were propelling toward. I knew I had to enter the contest. 

I am glad that I did and that I wrote the poem I personally felt. This is an image of what was once a small green tree sapling. The Originals: Early Native Americans would bend these little saplings in dense forests to assist them in "recording" their routes to and from their journeys. If you happen upon them in your travels, they are considered rare good fortune.

Native American Route Marker from Tree Sapling

Many people are aware that poet Emma Lazarus wrote the famous sonnet "The New Colossus" in 1883 about the Statue of Liberty. Very few people, I am guessing, know that Emma Lazarus was Jewish. I did not know this. I was quite surprised at this fact. I am constantly surprised, as a half-Jewish woman, how little Jewish people are celebrated for their vast and myriad gifts. I want to see that rectified.

Emma Lazarus

Emma Lazarus was 34 years old when she wrote one of the most applauded and prominent poems in, and about, the United States of America. She died four years later. 

The text of the poem entitled “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus, mounted on the base of the Statue of Liberty. The sonnet was written in 1883, and donated to help raise money for the statue’s pedestal. The text was later cast in bronze and and mounted in 1903

A public thank you to the judges of the Emma Lazarus Project: Poetry Contest - the Staff of American Jewish Historical Society, Actor Cherrye J. Davis, Poet Lynn Melnick, and Painter Josh Smith.

Looking down at the statue from its torch, circa 1890

(See article re: last two photos. 

In the interim since I first put up this post in November, 2022, the AJHS has moved the poem on its website. So, it follows if you'd like to have a read at it.


By Cynthia Schwartzberg Edlow

We acknowledge. Beneath the sun-spoked diadem

Encircling your celebrated head these two centuries plus,

You remain marvelously fair. Neither the heavy torch

Nor the massive, dated tablet have felled you. Still you hospitably

Offer greeting. Once you were a foreigner. Here is home where

Originals thrived. They toiled and feasted upon this land,

Trod many-hued dirt paths to reach five bejeweled

Great lakes, deciphered bird calls from bird cries,

Studiously bent tree saplings into route markers that stand

Today immense in the forests. To clear and cleanse the land

Fire was mastered. Reluctantly they gave way for others.

They continue to forge on.                 With iron muscle and copper skin    

Across pitching cold waters you came shipped.

Your relations courted an ocean liner’s sterling upper decks                    

Expectant of fertile country. Three decks below in dank wishful

Steerage, a stew of languages sung out for ground that would

Grant trust. From cargo ships, by haunted hull despicable,

Multitudes in shackled chains. Yet, for all, their blood, their kinfolk, their

successors onward forge. All who witnessed the boats sail in long ago,

And sail in still. Under your golden flame, the promise ever cresting.

2021 Archival Finalist – Emma Lazarus Contest

American Jewish Historical Society