The Poetry Center at Smith College

Elizabeth Moser '51 writes poetry, fiction, essays, book reviews and memoirs. Her chapbook, Spirit Pond and Other Maine Poems (Goose River Press 2004) focuses on mid-coast Maine where she spends time and where her children live. She is one of four Maine women who published a collection of poetry, Leavings (Bay River Press 2005).

Other published works reflect her Maryland upbringing and residence. She received a 2003 F. Scott Fitzgerald Literary Conference fiction award and The Potomac Review’s 2002 Poetry Prize, as well as fiction and poetry awards in Baltimore Writers’ Association contests.

She is well represented in national and regional journals and magazines, including Off the Coast, Wolf Moon Press Journal, Northwoods Journal, Down East, Goose River Press Anthology, Passager and The Urbanite. Two of her poems are in the Poets Against the War website anthology and a memoir, “Growing Up in Two Families” is published in Generations (Jewish Museum of Maryland).

She has been an Editor of The Baltimore Review since 2003 and currently serves as Poetry Editor.

Mainestay

In the city

where my other life plays out,

I am harried

with each day’s blunt obligations.

Too many tentacles of place, position,

other people’s expectations—

Too many weeks since I have fed the hunger of my spirit.

I need the beach.

I need to melt, submerge,

observe the interplay, the fluid panorama—

bird, wave, wind, cloud, marsh

in a world that doesn’t need me.

I need to focus on the gulls,

their forsaken cry,

wings slow-motioning above me,

heads nodding,

searching, searching

for a space to rest among the waves...

I need to look up at the clouds,

spired cities, mountains,

pink and gold, watch them

cluster, climb, collapse, diffuse.

Sometimes, raging buffaloes

in gray and white

charge the high sky

and curling serpents,

fangs trailing into distant ocean,

move across my view and disappear...

I need to concentrate

on waving marshgrass,

musing at the constant welcome change

the seasons bring:

greenstemmed in April,

alive with nesting birds and crawling things;

lush in July, deer in silhouette

against hardwoods at marsh edge;

tawny topaz in October as leaves change,

then, in January, storm-bowed, silent,

sere blond, flat-patterned, snow-powdered.

In the city,

where I spend most of my time,

I am sustained by imagery—

bird, wave, wind, cloud, marsh.

I am sustained...



	Elizabeth Moser '51 writes poetry, fiction, essays, book reviews and memoirs. Her chapbook, Spirit Pond and Other Maine Poems (Goose River Press 2004) focuses on mid-coast Maine where she spends time and where her children live. She is one of four Maine women who published a collection of poetry, Leavings (Bay River Press 2005). Other published works reflect her Maryland upbringing and residence. She received a 2003 F. Scott Fitzgerald Literary Conference fiction award and The Potomac Review’s 2002 Poetry Prize, as well as fiction and poetry awards in Baltimore Writers’ Association contests. She is well represented in national and regional journals and magazines, including Off the Coast, Wolf Moon Press Journal, Northwoods Journal, Down East, Goose River Press Anthology, Passager and The Urbanite. Two of her poems are in the Poets Against the War website anthology and a memoir, “Growing Up in Two Families” is published in Generations (Jewish Museum of Maryland). She has been an Editor of The Baltimore Review since 2003 and currently serves as Poetry Editor.		Mainestay In the city where my other life plays out, I am harried with each day’s blunt obligations. Too many tentacles of place, position, other people’s expectations— Too many weeks since I have fed the hunger of my spirit. I need the beach. I need to melt, submerge, observe the interplay, the fluid panorama— bird, wave, wind, cloud, marsh in a world that doesn’t need me. I need to focus on the gulls, their forsaken cry, wings slow-motioning above me, heads nodding, searching, searching for a space to rest among the waves... I need to look up at the clouds, spired cities, mountains, pink and gold, watch them cluster, climb, collapse, diffuse. Sometimes, raging buffaloes in gray and white charge the high sky and curling serpents, fangs trailing into distant ocean, move across my view and disappear... I need to concentrate on waving marshgrass, musing at the constant welcome change the seasons bring: greenstemmed in April, alive with nesting birds and crawling things; lush in July, deer in silhouette against hardwoods at marsh edge; tawny topaz in October as leaves change, then, in January, storm-bowed, silent, sere blond, flat-patterned, snow-powdered. In the city, where I spend most of my time, I am sustained by imagery— bird, wave, wind, cloud, marsh. I am sustained...