Vera's website - authorverastasny.com

Order Vera's book 'Being Heard: Healing the Voices of Trauma - A Collection of Writings (not an affiliate link)

Welcome back to podcast poetry live.

I heard about Vera Stasny from a close friend and business partner of mine, Laine K. Laine interviewed her long-time friend Vera on her youtube channel Laine’s Domain, and I worked on the original recording as a video editor. Feel free to watch that interview. There’s a link to it in the show notes.

I was totally blown away by Vera’s life story. Here was a woman who faced trauma basically from birth after her parents moved from Czechoslovakia to London, England at the outbreak of world war 2. She experienced the horror of the London Blitz and took the psychological scars with her when they moved to America after the war.

At a young age Vera was then diagnosed with cancer. As if that wasn’t enough to contend with other illnesses arose as she battled to survive. She did survive after taking the responsibility of her health away from the medical establishment and into her own hands.

But Vera has had one of those lives that are full of major challenges – physical, emotional, and material. Did she succumb to the pressure? No. Vera is a true warrior, not just looking after herself but showing compassion and giving practical help to others in need.

As well as working her way to the top of the finance industry in the US, she was also a teacher for many years. After retirement despite ongoing health issues Vera goes skiing most days of the week with a determination to enjoy life and make life better for others.

And guess what? Vera wrote a book containing astonishing writings, including poems delving deep into the experience of trauma – both her own and that suffered by others. The book is called Being Heard – Healing the voices of trauma – a collection of writings - And she gave me permission to present it here on Podcast Poetry Live! Thank you, Vera!

I present three of her poems today. The first is called Blitzcrieg – and it paints a vivid picture of her war experience as a toddler. The second ‘If I died before you’ is a poem about love, and the fear of loss. There is so much insight in that poem. The third and last of Vera’s poetry I present you with today is called ‘Second chance’ – hearing this verse is a must for anyone who has health challenges and doesn’t know where to turn for help. She tells you how it is.

I want to thank Vera Stasny for this opportunity to read and voice her incredible work. Thanks Vera.

Okay. Let’s go for a journey courtesy of Vera Stasny, one of life’s inspirational survivors. But she didn’t just survive. She grabbed life with both hands, ran with it, and enjoys it to the full.

Okay, let’s start with Blitzcrieg.

A poem by Pascale Petit called Treesitter started it - led me to explore what someone called Julia Butterfly Hill, experienced and achieved. She lived in a Redwood tree, 200 feet high, for 738 days. The corporations tried to shake her out of that tree, but she was way too powerful for that. That was a revelation for me.

How Pascale Petit was able to impart a little of what Julia experienced using words, so effectively, in verse was another revelation. I had to respond to her.

Pascale's work can be read in the Transcript. My response to her is also there.

'I hope if Edward is 'looking down' he won't be offended by my possibly irreverent use of his creation.' The painting was actually unfinished when he died in 1898, and currently hangs in the V&A museum in Kensington, having been given it by his wife, Lady Burne-Jones, in 1909.

The painting is itself based on a poem as this extract from the V&A website notes ~

The triumphal procession of Love was a common theme in Medieval and Renaissance literature and art. However, the specific basis of Burne-Jones's composition in The Car of Love is a long allegorical poem by the 14th-century Italian poet Petrarch, the Trionfior Triumphs. The poet has a vision of a number of victorious pageants or triumphal processions, in which historical, Biblical or mythological figures take part. The first triumph is that of Love over the human heart; the next is Chastity, which triumphs over Love; followed in turn by Death, Fame, Time, and finally Eternity, which triumphs over all.

Back in the eighties I spent a while on the streets, homeless and out of my head. Part of that time was on the Whitechapel Road in East London. Despite the circumstances, and amongst the dark memories, I still have a few light ones.

I used to love hearing the call to prayer from the local Mosque. I had never been religious back then but that sound, that voice, singing from the heart took me away from my self-inflicted hardship every time I heard it.

I also remember the camaraderie amongst the homeless, drinkers and the generally lost. This poem recounts a wonderful example of how we often looked after each other, when we were able to.

I never met the man I was told helped me out - Jimmy Boyle. But I'll never forget him.

This is from one of those memories that never seem to fade. It's about the time my mother miscarried, my response to witnessing the aftermath,, and its effect on me as a seven-year-old.

Welcome to my reading of a poem that I wrote about aspects of the vision quest I undertook in early summer. The whole process took 12 days, but the period I wrote about is called the Solo, which involves four days and nights alone in the wilderness, with no food, but adequate water. Just you (or in this case me) and nature.

Nature turned out to be a mirror that forced me to face myself at depths I’d never plumbed before. It can be a process of healing and revelation. It certainly was for me.

There may be one or two parts of it that need clarification, so let me point the way -

Vixana's mist

Each morning Vixana would emerge from her cave and climb to the top of the tor where she would scan the surrounding countryside looking for unwary travellers ... When the traveller came to that part of the track which skirted the bog that lay at the foot of Vixen Tor, Vixana would wave her stick and call up a thick, clinging mist which would envelope the traveller ...

Image of Vixen Tor, Dartmoor, UK

Apophis

Some stories, probably later Roman retellings, describe Apophis as an enormous golden snake that was miles long, and who tried to swallow the sun every night as Ra traversed the underworld ...

Lyme (disease) caught from ticks

The Clocked stopped - a poem by Emily Dickinson

Banged up for eternity!

Artwork: a royalty-free stock image I used as it highlights in a humorous way the futility and irony that come up in conflict situations. Large view)

In the theatre of war the script often calls for serviceman to be visible but do nothing. Sometimes it's just a case of being at a location in order to make a statement on behalf of the puppet masters.

The presence of a handful of soldiers in an armoured personnel carrier waiting by the roadside in a foreign country while thousands of its citizens, armed to the teeth, march by on their way to confront their local religious or political rivals, equal in numbers and weapons, can only be for show. But, of course, a show can end badly.

Peacekeeper offers an image of such a scenario. The show ends well this time. The written version of Peacekeeper can be found in the Transcript.

(The intro music ends at 00:35)

In case you're wondering about stanza three, line 2 (marines and sailors) -

The phrase tell that to the marines is a scornful expression of disbelief. In A Concise Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1993), B. A. Phythian explained:

Marines were originally soldiers raised for sea-service (originally in the seventeenth century) and trained for maritime warfare. As such they were looked down on by sailors, who saw themselves as skilled members of a senior service; in fact, soldiers at that time were not highly regarded by anyone. The phrase originated in naval circles with the implication that marines were ignorant enough to believe anything.

This phrase was originally he may tell that to the marines, but the sailors will not believe him, and variants.

https://wordhistories.net/2016/09/14/tell-that-to-the-marines/

Musical idents - Italian music found on archive.org)

I was told by a friend of mine, Ed, from the US that his niece, Jenna, is an avid poet. Never one to miss an opportunity to discover poetic talent I asked Ed if Jenna would mind showing me some of her work with a view to presenting it here on Podcast Poetry Live, if it was quality poetry of course. Jenna duly obliged.

After reading the first poem - Pocket Change - I realised I had to bring Jenna into the fold. You'll hear Pocket Change in a moment, and I can tell you it's short, sharp and powerful. Reading it the first time left me excited about the rest of her work. So I dived in and got lost in it. Jenna has a unique and wonderful way of expressing pain and pleasure in verse, and it paints pictures – some you want to look away from and others you want to fix your gaze on.

Before reading you the poems I selected for publication here's her bio that she has on her website

Jenna - Amongst many roles, I treasure the ones of poet, writer, and traveler the most.

Many people will also know me from being a (former) coffee shop owner, then a tour director and Italian travel specialist, roles which I adore as well.

As a kid, I fell in love with language and travel as a means of connecting our humanity. On my first trip to Italy as a teenager, some part of my heart stayed there. As an adult now, I’m in Italy as often as I can be, with as little paperwork as I have to have, and I currently hold B2 proficiency in Italian, which just means I can order pasta while concurrently complaining about politics. (Not sure there’s anything more Italian though...)

I love helping people travel to Italy well, sustainably, and all while supporting local businesses. My niche expertise and passion is food and wine, so you’ll see a focus on the culinary marvels of Italy, which is — gloriously — endless.

When I’m not in Italy, I’m either in South Dakota to visit loved ones or off traveling somewhere new, drinking coffee and writing about the things that make us human… and doing the things that make me human. (i.e. making fresh pasta. I make a lot of fresh pasta.) -

I intend to ask Jenna to consider reading her poems for us. That, I believe, would give us a whole new dimension to the poems’ content. Straight from Jenna’s heart.

In the meantime I’ll present her poetry with the love and appreciation that I feel for it.

It’s with great pleasure that I present the work of Gil Hedley - poet, somanaut (inner-space explorer), human anatomy expert, healer, and man of many other skills and talents. Gil gave me permission to bring some of his beautifully written, stimulating, and thought provoking poems to Podcast Poetry Live.

To give you an idea of this literary artist here is some of what he reveals about himself on his website at gilhedley.com

I started out my adult learning journey at the Divinity School of the University of Chicago, studying for my Ph.D. in Theological Ethics. During that time I also became a Certified Rolfer and spent five years studying psychodynamics and energy healing in NYC; I have been an avid student of personal and spiritual development my whole life.

My combined interests and training has supported my personal exploration of the human body and led me to develop an integral approach to the study of human anatomy.

Over the past 27 years, I have led hundreds of hours of Hands-On Human Dissection Workshops in the laboratory. Through this in-person work, as well as keynote presentations and online programs, I have encouraged thousands of fellow "somanauts" to appreciate, explore, and embody the wonders of the human form.

From his youtube channel – Somanaut

I believe that the dictum "Know thyself" can partly be fulfilled through knowledge of human anatomy. As somanauts, dedicated to exploring inner space, we can expand our human potential exponentially.

In this episode I read four of Gil’s poems, one from each of the four parts of his collection named The Seeming Space.

They are:

The Creator Aches from Coming into Form (Part 1)

Feeling Good from Coming into Form (Part 2)

If You Wait from Beyond the Leaving

Crack That Shell from The Seeming Space

The Seeming Space can be downloaded from Gil’s website, and contains over 100 high-quality poems, written over a decade. The preface to the collection summarises it succinctly -

The words that follow come in shifting voices, which together reflect a story about our coming into form. Sometimes “source” speaks comfort, or counsel, or challenge, always with tender love. At other times the “petty time and place personality” cries out for solace, and finds it within. May you as well.

Around 40 years ago an injury left me unconscious for three days and nights. It was a pivotal time in my life and my perceptions of what took place during that time of unconsciousness are still vivid as memory.

This poem is a brief summary of what took place in which turned out to be a fork in the road of my journey in this supposedly 3D world.

There is a scene in Asylum, a movie from 2005, that struck me in so many ways that I hit the rewind button perhaps hundreds of times over the years (perhaps indicative of my own issues upstairs) -

Stella has either lost the plot completely, or achieved enlightenment. I sway to the latter. The release of all attachment. So much so that she watches her son drown with a chilling detachment that some might call indifference, until she's snapped out of her fatal reverie. The scene mesmerised me.

Here's the movie Asylum (2005)

Mother and son are at the river around the 1.10.30 mark.

The poem harks back to the time I was staying at a rehab in Bow, East London. I went out for a typically aimless walk and found myself in one of the many railway arches in London (and the rest of the UK)

It turned out to be an incredible experience, more so, I think, because it was unexpected. It was like slipping into an alternative reality. A truer reality in my opinion.  This took place in the early nineties. It wasn't until the early noughties that I wrote about it, realising in the writing just how much I recalled of it, and how impactful it was.  

I submitted the poem to the Writers Forum competition in 2010 and won first prize - £100 and publication in the mag.  Great encouragement to carry on writing!