Edwin Segal – 2 poems

A State of. . . .?



The time has come: emergency
but not urgent; danger, but golf
first to ease the tensionless strain.
Who needs to read reports?  Facts are
always replaced by our nonsense.


I have already promised you:
someone will pay, but we won’t.
Hard choices, some one must, but not us.
Great strain, with turncoats all about.
The world is safe without our might.


Ask those we left behind; they have
new partners, and no one asks us.
We are free; no more mooching; our
treasure is ours, for our comfort,
and we will be great, but alone.





Noah’s Wife
(Genesis 4-8)



They said he was righteous in his
generation, but that was all.
He stuffed me into that boat (he
heard a voice he said), animals
as well, and so we endured that
journey, sweaty, dusty, dirty,
smelly. We endured – no options.


Then it ended; I kissed the ground;
he planted a vine; I planted
crops, cooked animals and fed us.
A year later he made wine for
the voice in his head, and drank it,
and it took control of his body,
exposing his mind’s disarray.


Two of our sons tried to protect
him, while the third ran to tell me,
and then I realized I was alone.
No one speaks to me or of me.
I am Na’amah, daughter of
Lamech and Zillah, bringer of
sweet songs of praise to all voices.


My mother was a shadow, but
I am not; others hear me sing.
I speak my mind and the heavens
stay in place.  And so I left the boat
searching for the queen of demons,
Lilith, who has much to teach us.





Edwin Segal has been writing poetry since college (late 50s). Fortunately, he says, everything before 1974 has been lost. Some of his published poetry has appeared in Poetica Magazine , Bindweed Magazine and Verse-Virtual; a lot is out of print or has never been published.  He is Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at the University of Louisville and has conducted field research in Senegal, Cameroon, Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, South Africa, Kyrgyzstan and Oman. Apprentice House published his chapbook, Heritage, in 2017.
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The past year has been a whirlwind of going back to the dayjob after maternity leave, coping with a sick baby, moving house (again!) and a family bereavement on top of all that. The setbacks delayed our publication schedule, but true to the nature of the convolvulus weed itself, Bindweed Magazine has managed to bounce back from the brink…essentially I have kept our little zine going through tough times. So thanks for bearing with me and here we go:


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Leilanie Stewart 🍃

Edwin S. Segal – 2 poems


Journey’s the thing; that’s what they say:
over hill and dale through wadi
and ravne, endless travel with
goal out of sight.  Then it happens:


Like a sun, goals appear, beckoning,
calling, to reach out to adventure
unknown; to defeat or success.
We are called and cannot refuse.


Shadows and shades flit across our
vision, telling yet to happen
while now is also hidden from
our sight or our understanding.


The tenses of our words tie tense minds
and we are no longer sure when
we are or even where we should be,
here, there, everywhere or nowhere.




They’re Still at it
Clown Show #4 

They’re still at it, only louder,
nonsense passed as real policy;
they come and go with speed greater
than writing fake news.  Who goes next?
There is no clue; we’re always wrong.
but the play school yard is still there
turning out boisterous bullies.
Tweet storms hide empty thought and mind.
Neither books nor knowledge are used;
facts slip by; alternates prevail.
We live on the edge waiting for
the clowns to go with dispatch.




Edwin Segal has been writing poetry since college (the early 60s).  Fortunately, he says, anything written before 1974 has been lost .  His work has appeared in Verse Virtual, Poetica, Bindweed Magazine, and several other venues.  He is Professor Emeritus in Anthropology at the University of Louisville and has done research in Nigeria, Kenya, Tanzania, South Africa, and Kyrgyzstan.  His first chapbook, Heritage, was published in 2017 by Apprentice House Press, Baltimore, Maryland.

Edwin S. Segal – 2 Poems 


They’re at it again, fewer clowns,
but more grotesque, in words and deeds.
This years’ Indian summer has
come twice, but don’t worry, one is
a hoax, meant to make us buy more
warm weather clothes before winter.
They’re all there: bad, worse, disastrous.
We can pray, but clowns have the field, 
an open path to inform us
of the yield for those with power.
Conspiracies abound, trapping
us in hidden webs of deceit.
Now the crooked clowns tell us how
to think about events world wide, 
waves of discontent with our state
of being.  When the clowns come for 
the others, it won’t be long for 
us, and when we are gone, no one
else will be there for blame.




Making Contact

“Call us,” the site said, “and we will
serve your interests, making your life
smooth and easy.  Relax with us;
let us solve your problems today.
We have all needed expertise.
Visit our site or call, contact 
us now; your call is important.

So it said, and so I looked 
for  the right button: nirvana
on demand, freed from all worry, 
the paradise of solved problems,
but I hardly know what they are.
Does it matter? They’ll all vanish;
I’ll sit and pick up a sun tan.

No one is involved; they’re all menus.
I can try for a person by
pressing zero, or eight, or nine.
We know my call is important;
I’m next in line, so I’m on hold.
Good luck with that; no answer here
just mindless muzak in my ear.




Edwin S. Segal has been writing poetry since college in the late 50s and early 60s.  Fortunately, he says, everything written before 1974 has been lost.  He started publishing his work in the early 80s but it’s been sporadic.  He counts himself as an amature poet; he doesn’t and probably couldn’t make a living at it.  Currently, he is Professor Emeritus of Anthropology at the University of Louisville, Louisville, KY.  He has done research in eastern Africa and Central Asia.  Apprentice House Publishing has agreed to publish Heritage, his first book of poems.   The book was released in May 2017.