DAYS OF MILK AND HONEY
Remember to Visit Days of Milk and Honey (New Book) Page
Days of Milk and Honey was published in the Winter of 1983-1984 by the Oxholm Children. It was printed on El Soplon Press. Feeding the press, collating: Maria, Teresa, Nilda, and Jose Oxholm. The book is comprised of letters from poets all over the world submitting their "stone with an interesting story" for the fireplace. Also, many poems that were sent to the children and Jose M. Oxholm Lopez. This is my family. I share these with you to enjoy.
Casa De Los Poetas Del Mundo
(House of the Poets of the World)
A dream very close to our heart, the House of the Poets of the World, comes closer and closer to reality in our hills at Albion, Michigan. A Spanish ranch, pines, mulberries, walnuts...Enchanted
hills with echoes. A place to share life and poetry.
A request to poets around the world for a stone with an interesting story for our fireplace had many generous replies:
Las Palmas, Gran Canaria, Canary Islands
For you this obsidian considered of great value. Those used by the native "guanches" have disappeared. Although abundant as a volvanic rock in the Canary Islands, you may find only one bigger than this in the Geological Museum of the Canaries. The obsidian is hard to extract from the lava without breaking it.
For the primitive natives the obsidian had an important magical element, being highly regarded for surgical operations, especially trephining of the cranium in the left parietal region. The purpose of the operation was to relieve headaches by facilitating the escape of causal demons. The primitive guanches performed post mortem trephining with obsidian instruments to allow the soul to be released.
You see, to talk about the obsidian is to talk about the Pre-historic times of my town. Surgery, surprisingly, especially in wounds of the scalp because of the "guirreas" (free-for-all stone fights) was common witchcraft in which the natives showed great dexterity.
Yesterday we were visited by an Officer of Tacuarembo who brought the stone for you: a sandy stone of our land, characteristic of our region, easily sculpted for its softness and fast drying quality. What should I do? It weights over 30 Kilos.
Sylvia Puentes Oyenard
West Bloomfield, Michigan
From Uruguay, a "brasilera amatista" or "agatha". Millions of years ago a tremendous aerolite fell south of Brazil, north of Uruguay, perforating the cortex of the Earth, bringing out igneous material which on cooling crystallized leaving a liquid residue in the center of the stones. Some are a meter and a half in diameter.
Ricardo and Aida Rivas
We'll go by air, without fear, to gather baskets of tenderness. Cuba will be present in a friendly home. Poets will come from north and south and I will be welcome. What else may I ask Poetry?
Somebody close to me brought this stone from my country.
From Cuba, with love. Clara Niggermann
Liege, Belgique This historic stone comes from the heart of the Village of Liege, Plaza Saint Lambert, facing the Prince Place where the provincial government and the Palace of Justice are holding a meeting today.
Guadalcanal, Sevilla, Espana
My stone, a present from Guadalcanal, Andalucia. Since ancient times this area was famous for its argentiferous minerals. Its etimology (Guad-al-canal)means in Arabic "River of Creation". In 1241 it was conquered by the Order of Santiago. Three churches were built: Santa Maria, la Major, Santa Ana", built in 1307. It has lost a great number of it population, at present (1983-1984)time consisting only of 3,500 inhabitants. Located 120 kilometers north of Seville, it is the farthest town from it in this province..
Pedro Ortega Valencia was born here around 1520. Eventually, he discovered, conquered and pacified the Island of Guadalcanal in the Pacific Ocean, archipielago of the Solomon Islands, so well known during the Second World War.
I was born in Guadalcanal September 8, 1941. In September 6, 1964 the Navies of Spain and the United States paid homage to Pedro Ortega Valencia.
If my stones are late for your project, please place them in a little corner of your garden, in the sun, or "if not they are going to be very sad alone" like my little niece said. The stones are from the old mill in the town La Pinilla, in the southern part of Spain, close to Murcia and Cartagena.
The City of New York, Office of the Mayor, May 15, 1980
Dear Nilda: Thank you for the copy of "Days of Milk and Honey." I enjoyed reading it. The Oxholm family deserves a lot of credit.
You asked me for a poem. Enclosed is a sonnet which I sent to a Shakespearean theatre group called "Potter's Field", headed by the actor, Michael Moriarty.
You may print this poem if you wish. If you do, I would like to receive a copy. (I hope she did)
With best regards, Sincerely, Edward I. Koch, Mayor
SUBWAY SONNET FOR THE POTTER'S FIELD THEATRE COMPANY
Since strike, nor storm, nor such adversity
But true New Yorkers' grit o'er sways their power,
How well this finest truth is known to me
And every Mayor back to the Little Flower!
Indeed, shall history record at length
Recall the wreckful siege of battering days,
In carpool and in gridlock we found strength
On foot, by bike, we made it through the maze.
And now reward is what we all deserve
And surely this must be close at hand,
For Michael Moriarty's about to serve
Up Shakespeare that we all can understand.
What better tribute could the theatre yield
Than the skill and craft that shines in "Potter's Field."
Edward L. Koch
Mayor and Bard of City Hall
Commonwealth of Virginia, Office of the Governor, Richmond 23219
Dear Jos�: I was delighted with my copy of "Days of Milk and Honey", and I enclosed a small verse in accordance with your request.
With it go my compliments on this personal and family venture. With all good wishes, I am
Very truly yours, John N. Dalton
It's said that character is what we do
When there's none there to see
But I'm convinced a guide more true
Is what I think of me.
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Office of the Governor, Harrisburg
Dear Nilda: Thank you for sending me a copy of your "Days of Milk and Honey" booklet. Per your request, I am enclosing a poem I authored for my wife, Ginny, for Valentine's Day. I appreciate your interest.
Sincerely, Dick Thornburgh, Governor
The first Lady of Pennsylvania is first in many things.
has been first in most for many years.
First in joy.
First in tenderness.
First in skill at drying tears.
A wife, a mother, a voice for
those who have no voice or founder on deaf ears.
My Ginny, our Mom,
the quieter of First Family fears.
We honor you with love and these frail words
on Valentine's Day.
Department, Montpelier, Vermont
Dear Jos�: Thank you for your letter. I am not a poet, but I think you might enjoy one of Vermont's favorites -"No Vermonters in Heaven", by E.F. Johnstone. I will enclose a copy for your use, if you wish.
Sincerely, Richard A. Snelling, Governor
NO VERMONTERS IN HEAVEN
By E.F.Johnstone 1913
I dreamed that I went to the city of Gold,
To Heaven, resplendent and fair,
And after I entered that beautiful fold,
By one in authority, then I was told
That not a Vermonter was there.
"Impossible, sir, for from my own town
Many sought this delectable place,
And each must be here, with a harp or a crown,
And a conqueror's palm, and a clean linen gown,
Received through unmerited grace."
The angel replied:"All Vermonters come here
When first they depart from the earth,
But after a day, or a month, or a year,
The restless, and lonesome, and homesick appear.
And sigh for the land of their birth.<
"They tell of ravines, wild, secluded and deep
And of flower-decked landscapes serene,
Of towering mountains, imposing and steep,
Adown which the torrents exultingly leap,
Through forests perennially green.
They tell of the many and beautiful hills,
Their forests majestic appear,
They tell of its rivers, its lakes, streams and rills,
Where nature, the purest of water distills,
And they soon get dissatisfied here.
"We give them the best the kingdom provides
They have everything here that they want
But not a Vermonter in Heaven abides;
A very brief period here, he resides,
Then hikes his way back to Vermont."
only a name,
I am behind it.
NO, THE TRUTH
No, the truth is not the music
I am in a sad waiting for a word
naming what I search for,
but what do I search for?
Not the name of a deity
not the name of names
but the precise and precious name
of my hidden desires.
(something punishes me coming from all of my lives.)
- We gave you everthing so that you would understand and you preferred to wait, as if everything announced the poem
(the one you will never write because it is an unattainable garden
- I only came to see the garden
In the central point of the wilderness
God, the spider.
has its bow
in my soul
in my heart
talks inside me
what my voice
can not sing.
Primo Castrillo - Greenwich, Ct.
oh future field of daisies!
Marcel Hennart, Bruxelles, Belguim
I STILL SEARCH
I still search for you
in a time that the past erased.
You are the subtle galaxial vagabond
asking for somebody
who if having existed
is the last passenger
in the first trip of the morning.
Alberto Baeza Flores, Madrid, Spain
This sadness of mine
to dream its thorns!
Pablo Le Riverend, Newark, N.J.