Upcoming events:
We are looking forward to the
Gaithersburg Book Festival on
May 18 at Bohrer Park in
Gaithersburg. Walter will have
his own booth. Come by and
say hello! His book "The
Death of Weinberg: Poems
and Stories", will be available
for purchase.
Also, Walter will read some of his poems
at the reading run by the Montgomery County
Underground Showcase. The event will take
place on April 11, 7 - 8:30 pm
We are also celebrating the one year anniversary
since the publication of Walter's first full length book, The Death of Weinberg: Poems and Stories (Kelsay Books) The book was
released in February,2023.
The book is a compilation of
Walter's published work as well
as some previously unreleased
poems and stories. You can
purchase the book at Amazon
and Kelsay Books. Now on Kindle!
It was great to see "The Death of Weinberg: Poems and Stories"
featured in the New Books section of NewPages.com on June 21, 2023.
New Pages.com is a great literary guide and describes itself to be
"your best guide to literary magazines, indie publishing, creative writing
programs, writing and literaryevents, writing contests, calls for submissions, and more." It was, therefore, wonderful to have "The Death of Weinberg:
Poems and Stories" included as one of the new books featured online at NewPages.com.
Walter is very pleased to note that
his poem, "I Can't Leave" appeared
in The Nelligan Review, Volume 1,
Issue 4 (September, 2023)
Note: Walter was among those who recited poems at a contributor reading hosted by Wild Roof Journal on January 25, 2023 via Zoom. Walter read his poem "Questions for a Tree" which appeared in the November, 2022 issue of the Journal. There were a number of participants and the quality of the stories, poems and art was outstanding. It was an honor to be part of it.
Walter joined other writers at the MoCo Underground Writers Showcase for the National Day on Writing at the Sandy Spring Museum, Sandy Spring, Maryland on October 20, 2022. He read his poem "For Edna St. Vincent Millay". Great turnout, wonderful stories and poems read by the authors.
Also, an interview : Walter discusses his writing style and the writing
process in an in-depth interview just published in THE GATEWAY REVIEW!
Walter Weinschenk is an attorney, writer and musician. Until a few years ago, he wrote
short stories exclusively but now divides his time equally between poetry and prose. Walter's writing has appeared in over seventy literary publications and his first full length
collection, "The Death of Weinberg: Poems and Stories" (Kelsay Books) was released in 2023. Walter lives in a suburb just outside Washington, D. C.
Three Poems . . .
Chrysanthemums
I am gone,
A memory,
A broken beam of light,
Diffuse in time,
A fading afterthought
But, even so,
A part of me
Still lives:
A silent remnant
That can’t be seen;
It roams the earth,
Rises through the silver sheen
Of jeweled spring nights,
Races through clover
And grassy thickets,
Flies like leaves,
Falls from the sky
Like grey rain,
Lands in a twist
And floats again,
Swirls in the breeze
And surfs the wind;
This is how it is
And always will be;
No one knows,
No one sees
But, strange to say,
I am still alive
In the hearts and minds
Of chrysanthemums
Over which I fly;
Living seas of chrysanthemums,
Thick across the fields,
Grand nations, yellow and red;
They call my name,
They sing,
They comfort me
As I pass by,
Each and every time
And this is what
They say to me:
“It’s warm today,
Quite perfect,
And the breeze is right;
The earth is moist,
It soothes our roots;
We don’t know who we are
But we love the day,
Embrace the night;
We breathe and love
And love each breath;
Nurtured, cossetted,
By earth and air;
We are alive
And life itself
Surges through
Our stems and veins;
We stretch our leaves
And gentle petals
Of our floret coats;
We dance in the rain,
We salute the sun
When he comes around;
We don’t know
Who we are
But we stir,
Turn slow
In the world in which
We find ourselves,
Some world, this world
And you as well,
You who are in the world,
One in the world,
Like each of us.”
I can’t reply
But they know me well,
Better than I know myself;
They tip their petals
On sunny days as I fly by,
Each and every time.
["Chrysanthemums" first appeared in The Elevation Review, April 2022]
Lighthouse
I was lost, but then, by chance,
I found the beach; I walked upon
The scrabble sand; I climbed the rocks
And knew that I would never leave.
I found the lighthouse by the shore;
I climbed the tower to the top;
I lit the lamp and scanned the sea
In search of lost and scattered souls.
The sky was black and ruthless;
My heart broke for the thought
Of sailors trapped in broken boats,
Their draughts of hope consumed.
It was, indeed, a powerful light:
Stately beam, rhythmic reach,
Back and forth like a metronome
And out of darkness souls emerged
Like pearls upon a velvet sleeve:
In perfect line, they sailed toward me.
A shattered armada drifted in,
Staggered toward the shore,
Ripped sails and broken masts;
Their figureheads had lost their heads.
I am no god, a shepherd at best
But it doesn’t matter who I am,
For I will climb those steps again
And every night I will shine a light
To bring those children home.
["Lighthouse" first appeared in Flumes | The Haberdasher,
May 2021]
Underwater
I tumbled through
A school of fish,
A swirling horde,
A silver coil
That danced
Around me
Like a circle of light
While, below,
Green lobsters
Trudged along,
Wary and deliberate;
Storms of seaweed
Fell like snow
And gathered in piles;
I saw, as well,
The bones of fish
And the bones of men;
They roll like tumbleweed
Across the floor;
I mourned the loss
Of those nameless souls.
II
The sun is weak:
Its blinding light
Succumbs to the water,
Gleams meekly
Through shadows
That pervade the ocean’s
Rooms and corridors
But, even so,
I now can see
As never before:
I see the flicker
Of distant fins
And grains of sand
In every inch
Of the seabed’s
Grand mosaic;
I see sharp corners
And subtle bends
Hidden in a shadow’s edge,
And I see colors
That can’t be seen
In the atmosphere;
I have found clarity
In the darkness of the sea.
The weight of water
Is soft against my skin:
The cool of it
Reaches my core,
Runs throughout
The essence of all I am,
An essence I never knew
And could never know
Living life on land.
I hear the song
Of bells in the distance,
A strained echo
Reverberates in long,
Deformed tone,
Chimes from beyond the reef:
It could be the music
Of an ancient buoy,
Long ago abandoned
Or, perhaps, the song
Of currents as they cross:
Sober tone,
Holy melody,
A lonely reminder
Of something lost;
The crabs and eels
And angelfish
Listen and live
In keeping
With its rhythm
As I drift, spellbound,
Toward the sound
Of that lament.
["Underwater" first appeared in Lighthouse Weekly, April, 2022]
