(August 2003) Page 2

RICHARD VALLANCE About Richard Vallance Born in Guelph, Ontario, Canada, March 11th., 1945, Richard is a member of AuthorsDen, under his family name, Richard Vallance Janke.  A graduate of Wilfred Laurier University (1968) and The University of Western Ontario (MLS), he is fluently bilingual in English and French, and reads Spanish and Italian, ancient Greek and Latin well.  He wrote his first poems at the ages of 17 and 18, in 1962-63.  For years, Richard wrote mainly in the field of Library and Information Science. At Chicago, in October, 1983, he won the $1,000 Data Courier Award for Excellence in Online Published Papers for an article in Online, Vol. 7, no. 5. Poetry: While he wrote some 200 poems before the age of 47, since then Richard has composed over 1,500 poems. His first published poem was, “Lasts the First Light”, in Arts and Literature Review (Canada, 1972). In 1998, he published his first full book of poetry, A Quilt of Sonnets: Forty Four Familiar Poems, Ottawa: Providence Road Press, © 1998. 56 pp. ISBN 1-896243-07-x. In February, 2001, Richard founded his first poetry discussion group, Describe Adonis, for sonneteers. We have since grown to 10 poetry, art and digital photography groups, which you may find at our discussion forum: la nouvelle Pléiade = The New Pleiades ©. Richard's poetry page is Poesie’s laissez-faire Faire Foire, a clearing-house for poets from nations like Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, Ireland, France and the Netherlands. PLFFF features sonnets and contemporary poems, updated quarterly, a links page to sites of other poets, and grants the monthly Prix laissez-faire Faire Foire Award . PLFFF is a member of Phenomenal Men of The Web: Arts & Humanities . Richard is the Editor of 2 Canadian poetry E-Zines.  These are advertised monthly at the end of The Vallance Review in Poetry Life and Times.  In the Winter of 2003, a third E-Zine, Kawasaki Zen Haiku, will be a showcase for haikuists. Since September, 2001, Richard has been the poetry reviewer for Poetry Life and Times, which features the monthly Vallance Review. He is also regular contributor to the same E-Zine.  Richard is also often featured with the U.S. Amerindian E-Zine, Autumn Leaves. CD-ROM Books: 1. The New Millennium Dawn Anthology (Kedco Press): 10 of Richard's poems were included in Millennium Dawn: an Anthology of Award Winning Fantasy Stories, Poetry, Novels etc.,  Kedco Studios Press, Las Vegas, NV, © 2002  ISBN 1-878431-38-2. 2. Richard’s latest CD-ROM book, Canadian Spirit Voices, © 2003, ISBN: 1-878431-44-7, is in its final pre-publication stages, and will be published by Kedco in the Spring of 2003.  You may view a summary of the book here:  Pre-publication Notice. To contact the author, please e-mail: Richard Vallance (Yahoo) (for inquiries on our poetry discussion groups) – OR –  Richard Vallance (Activator Mail) for poetry-related inquiries or submissions to our Canadian E-Zines).

Les Nénuphars de Givenchy © par Richard Vallance, le 23 juillet 2003 d’après Claude Debussy, « l’Après-midi d’un faune » Ces nénuphars ombragés tissés à la toile de Claude Monet, dans ses jardins de Givenchy, respirent-ils leurs impressions méridionales plus parsemées qu’un pré blanchi de fleurs-de-lys? Valsent-ils ici parmi des saules éparpillés à l’appel du mistral en essor à midi? — ou sont-ils tous rêveurs , la nuit d’étoiles moirées mirée dans les étamines, puis à tout repli? Ne le savais-tu que les jardins des sunnites, si spirituels qu’ils soient, sont parés de fleurs plus passagères qu’aux flancs d’un cerf dressé en fuite? Quel cerf veux-tu? Il a troublé les ifs. Vois-tu? Quel frisson dru versé du bois pluvieux effleure les nénuphars que toi, Debussy, as-tu vu? Translation into English linear prose: Claude Monet’s Waterlilies © Richard Vallance, 23rd. July 2003 After Claude Debussy's « l’Après-midi d’un faune » These waterlilies in the shade, woven into Claude Monet’s canvas, in his gardens at Givenchy, seem or do they seem to breathe the South’s impressions scattered about more than a meadow white with fleurs-de-lys? Are they walzing here amidst the willows sprinkling to the appeal of the high South Wind at noon? — or all they all dreamers in the night, whose tears get reflected in their stamens, yes, in every fold? Were you not aware the gardens of the Sunnis, however spiritual they may be, are adorned with flowers flightier than those on the flanks of a deer all set to flee? What’s that, what deer? He has disturbed the yews. You see? What haze shivers through the rainy woods to graze the waterlilies you too Debussy once saw? Our Seaside’s Vignettes © Richard Vallance, 2003 I Clouds on billowed waves raced onto shore where you were still… II where butterflies on thistles braved gusts furrowing our locks. III I was beside you where I too smiled as you let your hair asail. IV As it scattered sails fluttered in and out on our stippled bay. V No, this was one of summer’s cooler days when hands or fingers touch. VI Was this so soon? just yesterday… now rains pound that winded beach today. VII Sodden outside gray that same well-pastured bay holds us close inside. VIII As afternoon subsides, rain squalls yield to flecked eventide. IX Return, return we will and do, where thistles spin off dew. X Do sit here beside me as waves return and sea is breezed to lashes. XI Today two days ago sunsets russet leave unique impressions. XII Have we strayed past dusk? Return night to cirrus Sailing in vellum.

Jan Sand in New York JAN SAND, poet and illustrator from New York, is a regular contributor to Poetry Life & Times and the newsgroup alt.arts.poetry.comments. A great deal of his work is about animals, or science fiction. Recently Jan was published by Kedco Studios Artist Profile Press, on their latest CD ROM e-book, "A Way With Words (Poetry Real and Surreal), which also includes complete books by Dale Houstman, Sara L. Russell and Keith Gabriel Hendricks. Jan's illustrated book on the CD is called "Wild Figments And Odd Conjectures", which is also sold separately, in a limited-edition "single" CD. To see an illustrated article about Jan's poems, visit the November '98 issue of Poetry Life & Times, and scroll down past the Editor's Letter. He also has his own poetry pages on Charlotte's Web at Artvilla.

THE CASTAWAY © Jan Sand This island is small now, and diminishing. When I first arrived, it seemed so vast. No hint then of decrease, of vanishing. But that was long ago, in the past. The sea is black. A reservoir of teeth. Menaces unknown circle there. The calm surface mirrors the sky, but beneath Roiled cruelty lurks within its lair. Belief comes slow that this voracious ocean Brought me here. That its anarchic deadliness Could fabricate exquisite symmetry. The notion Seems illogical, demented. Nevertheless – The beach sands drift off with the tide. Erosion eats the soil. Trees crash, float away. Sleepless nights. With eyes wide I hear waves lapping, lapping, ‘til the break of day. Years have been good. Once the place was lush. Ripe fruits filled the forest trees. Much beauty here from treetop to underbrush. It was my bulwark against marauding seas. Last night my seawall slumped, fell in. A wind whipped wave climbed across the shore. A water finger rolled across the floor, touched my skin Then slipped back out the door. Years ago I sensed how it would be. I knew good times would have to have an end. I feared recapture by the sea. Some things mind can’t comprehend. SMOKE © Jan Sand This hard reality that sparkles, Screams, thrusts its forces on my nerves, That speaks so convincingly of something, Something undeniable that serves As an extension from my secret synapses Into a larger total inexorability. So that all doubt dissolves, collapses. But when pressed, demanded, analyzed, perceived By intricate mechanical-electrical devices Subservient to educated experts, is relieved Of its responsibility to the absolute Reality becomes less astute. Quantum calculation substantiates by fiat with its mathematics tuned to find the root Of sequence, of events where cause, effect, Move nose to tail in consequence. Suddenly our universe multiplies, Swallows conflicting events. They happen here, they happen there, They happen everywhere, And what may be may not, And the cosmos doesn’t care As the monster of improbability Emerges from its lair. Yesterday, tomorrow and today Can be coincident If you travel far enough away At speeds to rip the firmament. It’s not a funny joke When hard reality Goes up in smoke. THE FUNNY OLD MAN © Jan Sand There was an old man who was lonely and grim And excessively technically minded. He lived with a cat and an owl that was fat And a fancy new clock. He’d designed it. Every hour it rang with a click and a bang And was good for cooking up noodles. While down deep inside it secretly fried Sardines for wandering poodles. Now poodles can be, as you can see, A difficult problem to deal with. They’d walk in the gate, proliferate, And snuffle their noses to feel with. They’d chew up your shoes, Which does not amuse When you need them for running and walking. When his toes did protrude, In a manner most nude, It led most prudes into gawking. So the old man decided that when they’d collided With furniture, floor lamps and footstools, He’d chase them all out with a stomp and a shout For not obeying his house rules. He started his cry, when the sardines did fry And the poodles, they yipped and ignored him. They slavered for fish which popped out on a dish And they ran as a pack and they floored him. He sat up with a grin as they gobbled the fish ‘Cause they appeared both crazy and foolish. And, he said “Hey! I’ll let them stay. I may be old but not mulish. So they live there OK, in their cockeyed way, The owl, the cat and the poodles And the funny old man who eats, when he can, A rather large plate of cooked noodles. WANDERING PETER © Jan Sand Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, Had a wife but could not keep her, So he locked her Tight inside a pumpkin shell. How she cried! She objected To be so Squeezed, collected, Curled and squashed In this – well, Her small hell. Oh well. Peter felt he could treat her To some gin – half a liter. But he found She could astound Him with her odd and funny smell. Her tongue hung out Her ears turned red. He could not stand her In his bed And faced her with disgrace And dread. So he took up with his neighbor Who, he saw, Liked to labor In her garden. He approached. Said, “Beg your pardon, My domestic days are troubled.” (As he spoke, saliva bubbled.) “Would you care To come au pair To help me with my household?” Mary thought he was bold. And Mary, Mary was contrary (She thought, perhaps, he was a fairy. And locked up his wife to say It may be he was gay.) She said his wife was treated badly Stuffed inside a pumpkin shell. Which she said did not bode well For an act that was, sadly, Not in accord with her taste, Considered it a total waste. Peter responded, much in haste, “Mary, Mary, do not frown, You please me much When you bend down. Come away from silver bells, From cuckoo games with cockle shells. We’ll live a life, a better life. Forget about my smelly wife.” But Mary was a decent girl. Peter, she felt, was a churl. She could know Things would go Not too well After a whirl So she replied, “I will abide With my bells and cockleshells. Return to your wife and try to live a decent life.” Peter saw, with regret, That’s as far as he would get. He then freed His tipsy wife And found out, to his surprise She possessed bedroom eyes. Now she cleans and sweeps and cooks And Peter sneaks her goofy looks. He keeps her out of pumpkin shells And exercises with bar bells. At the end it must be said They had great times When in bed. LONGEVITY © Jan Sand How tenderly, How fearfully Each living thing consults its moments. Colors and shapes, Sounds and smells Integrate its particles and fragments. Time and time, Time and time. The smooth surface of existence must Be dissected, Be elected Into instances and substances and dust. Where to note, Where ignore. Fabrication of reality is unsure. Always tension, Always balance. Sense the texture, topology, conture. Step, step, Step, step. Carefully.