(March 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).

LOVE OVER SEAS © Richard Vallance, February 11th., 2003 for my boyfriend, Louis-Dominique 1 He looked with Oriental eyes on him, speechless. 2 Sunlit glances in cherry blossoms they passed. 3 My eyes are Bonzai hazels, his caerulean, not Fujiyama’s. 4 What far-off cloud comes, overseen over seas? 5 He slid the screen aside. His tall dark ship rode in. La Mer est moins amère © Richard Vallance, le 11 février 2003 pour mon bel ami de coeur, Louis-Dominique 1 D’un tout petit Coup d’oeil oriental, il ne l’avait pas salué. 2 Enrayonnés, les cerisiers les ont regardés solitaires. 3 Couleur de noisette les yeux couleurs d’azur s’emmêlent. 4 Lesquels ? Les nuages les plus lointains s’approchent pourtant. 5 L’écran entre- ouvert, je l’épie, sa barque d’étrange approche. PHILOS SOPHIA [1] (one’s inspiration) © Richard Vallance, February 12th. & 14th, 2003 for my boyfriend and for the World If, given cold pause, Mind is set to ask, "Will we with light resistance even go to night, whose breezes daylight may unmask to tender light? — where Hillyer’s seasons blow and pleasantly, over our meadows too — a place we will have come by sight to know, and where an Aeolian lyre [2] sings to our R.E.M., ariosissimo [3]; or where Creation’s act may be inferred or placed in poesie’s intaglios. One cannot tell when subtler verse is stirred or where or even if rhythm, pearled, grows on us, although realize, "The heart strives to harmonize seasons through to our lives." References: For those amongst us, who may not be wholly familiar to the metaphoric references I have made in this sonnet, these are as follows: [1] "Philos sophia", so written, means "the love of wisdom, as Plato would have it. As we know, its modern derivation is "philosophy". [2] This is a direct reference to Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poetico-philosophical testimonial, in his Defence of Poetry (1821): 7 Man is an instrument over which a series of external and internal impressions are driven, like the alternations of an ever-changing wind over an Æolian lyre; which move it, by their motion, to ever-changing melody. §8 But there is a principle within the human being and perhaps within all sentient beings, which acts otherwise than in the lyre, and produces not melody alone, but harmony, by an internal adjustment of the sounds or motions thus excited to the impressions which excite them. §9 It is as if the lyre could accommodate its chords to the motions of that which strikes them, in a determined proportion of sound; even as the musician can accommodate his voice to the sound of the lyre. [3] ariossisimo = Italian-English musical notation for, "in the muted voice of an Aria" And with our eternal thanks to Robert Silliman Hillyer From, Sonnets and Other Lyrics (1917) * Quickly and pleasantly the seasons blow Over the meadows of eternity, As wave on wave the pulsings of the sea Merge and are lost, each in the other's flow. Time is no lover; it is only he That is the one unconquerable foe, He is the sudden tempest none can know, Winged with swift winds that none may hope to flee. Fair child of loveliness, these endless fears Are nought to us; let us be gods of stone, And set our images beyond the years On some high mount where we can be alone; And thou shalt ever be as now thou art, And I shall watch thee with untroubled heart. Robert Hillyer (1895-1961) American * NOTE: I shall be reviewing this sonnet in the June, 2003 Vallance Review. * * * * * * * * * * * * Voilà donc deux versions d'un sonnet que j'ai composé l'année passée, et qui figurent dans mon nouveau livre, Les Voix éthérées canadiennes Ces sonnets sont dévoué tous les deux à mon bel ami, Louis-Dominique... Here are two versions of a sonnet which I composed last year for my new book, Canadian Spirit Voices Both of these sonnets are dedicated to my boyfriend, Louis-Dominique. Both sonnet are under the provision of the Copyright Act of the United States, 1976 & may not be copied or reproduced in any manner whatsoever. ADONIS © par Richard Vallance, April 22nd., 2001 Pour mon bel ami de Coeur, Louis-Dominique Un billet doux d’amour si pur Ne saurait jamais si bien écrire Les détails d’un coeur si dur Que celui qui m’en déchire. D’un tel amour même Cupidon, Aux ailes de plumes dégringolées, S’égare aux flèches dont le frisson L’abaisse à la dérive vers la marée. Allons-y, à lui, aux bosquets moirés D’où les voiles s’écoulent sveltes à la nuit, À l’écouter, ce cygne, qui luit toujours au lit. Hélas! - à la chasse ma belle Artémis Poursuit mon âme où l’onde, elle joue Zeus, “Chatouille-moi, mon Adonis!” ADONIS © Richard Vallance, April 22nd., 2001 A billet doux d’amour would have written of a love as pure as ours, but this would never be fair to one heart once bitten as surely as mine was as for your good. From a love of this ilk, Cupid, legs maimed, His feathers in flight, shredded as he slides, Staggers away, fleeing his arrows, beams aimed To strike him lashed, down to revenant tides. So Come! Shall we find our Elysian woods Where soft white wings flow on and on all night, the Swan’s, who drifts by us in sleep’s delight? Yes! As you can see, my fleet Artemis, You’ve lapped our shores as your thalassic waves, Your hands, wave on Zeus to, “Kiss Adonis!”

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.

SMALL MINDS © Jan Sand Small minds have smaller minds, Perverse and ever critical, That dissect their tiny finds With methods analytical. But all this parse Is merely farce, An act just theoretical To obfuscate And calculate The stubborn antithetical. Note from Editor: Jan Sand told me that these next two poems are about the recent shuttle disaster.... DEBRIS © Jan Sand The seven and their ship Trained and devised with all the skill That humanity could muster Proved not equal to forces that kill With the smallest of advantage. Gravity and vacuum and heat and cold Certify that old cartographic caution: “Here there be dragons.” - So old Yet still so true, and sufficient To reduce great capabilities Huge hopes and seven vitalities To attack by invisibilities, Unknowables and unexpectables. In space as anywhere in life, no guarantees Can certify against five hundred miles of debris. THE ASTR0NAUTS © Jan Sand Their gadgets are expensive. To place these eager adventurers Upon the Moon where peril is extensive, Where Death sits in his domain Of hostile vacuum, furnace heat, And cold to petrify the brain, The nation must pay heavily to expand Humankind’s terrain. The universe has no easy kindnesses. It must demand Funds sorely needed to cure disease, To give kids schooling now withheld By budgets under siege. “Why seize These vital resources”, Many citizens inquire, “For odd arcane scientific purposes Seemingly useless and dire?” One could equally have asked That first fish, beached in air, Gasping for oxygen, Why it crawled up there With astounded eyes and burning skin And wonder at the new seen Sun To puzzle out how strange things are. The first move in enlightenment begun. INNOVATION © Jan Sand God comes by, once or twice a week. Sometimes he waits a bit on the veranda, Shifting his feet. His shoes squeak. Then he knocks gently on the door. “Hello”, He calls out.” I have something here.” God, I must explain, invents. Sometimes He’s a bore. I remember, a while back, when He’d made a frog appear. He was quite pleased. It perched on his hand and burped. “Nice.” I’d said, to encourage Him. “You want a beer? We’d sat, sipped beer. Then, the other day He came to me. “A problem,” He’d said. “My house, my yard is getting full. Things chew my clothes. They sing all night. I can’t sleep. They bite my hand. They pull The socks out of my drawer. It’s not right” “Well,” I said, “why not figure out a way To get rid of them? Make them fall apart.” “Ahaa!” He said, “I hear what you say. What an idea!,” He said with a start. And then He stood and held his breath. “That’s great!” He said. “I’ll call it death!” CREDIT © Jan Sand There is a persistent tendancy In humanity To claim, out of the quality Of the efforts individual, Some portion of that fame Or infamy For the entire associated group. As if this character Were a garlic to flavor The entire human soup. Thus Dr. King or Nelson Mandela, Either one a worthy fella, Gives any individual, black, A remedy to cover any lack. Being Jewish Donates no clueish Capability To mitigate stupidity, To have commonality, be one With the personality Of Einstein or Mendelssohn. Humanity is stuffed With geniuses and thugs Sufficient to make your hair curl And of reputation to tempt My claim to be exempt From my species. I would rather be a squirrel. Therefor, though I spew verse, To evoke, sometimes, laughter, frequently, a curse, I claim no relationship To Shakespeare, or, more rash, Ogden Nash. SEVEN YEARS © Jan Sand Seven years now Since my son died, When the ground exploded And a shaft of fire hit my sky To scream, day and night, His last words: “Save me”. And I could not. I have traveled some space From that shaft. My sky still glows red From its glare. In the black silence Before sunrise, I can still hear its roar