Sunday, January 1, 2017

January 2017 Poetry Challenge

Truman Balcony, The White House, Washington D.C.
Photo by Wilda Morris


This month, President Barack Obama will end his eight-year presidency of the United States, and be replaced in the White House by Donald Trump, who seems to have a very different vision of  what actions the U. S. government should take. Several other countries have just installed new leaders or will be doing so within the next several months, so it seems like a good time for citizens of many countries to think about what they would do if they ran their government or what advice they would like to give to those in charge. Wisconsin poet Robin Chapman is one person who has given this question some thought:


If I Ran the Government: My Plan
To Rescue the Economy and Create Jobs             
I’d mandate that every child at birth
would be issued a triangle and drum,
a xylophone, maraca, and accordion;
a violin and Suzuki lessons at three,
and a piano in every living room for mom
and a sousaphone or sax for dad;
and for first grade, a recorder or flute
—which would require whole new college
departments and professors of Suzuki method
and band conducting and teachers of dance,
new factories for the making of musical
instruments and soundproofing rooms
and sound cancelling headphones,
new construction workers and architects
and engineers to build new band shells
and concert halls and dance floors
and folding chairs and barbecues,
a whole fashion industry focused on
band uniforms and tutus, flamenco dresses
and tap shoes, and orchestral commissions
for thousands of new works
—it would be a buildup second only
to our history of weaponry, fallout
a whole industry of export dulcimers
and luthiers, piano tuners and repairmen,
and dance music would ring out
on every street corner where walkers
could join in jigs and reels, clogging
and mazurkas, Cajun waltzes, solving
incidentally the obesity and loneliness
epidemics while a whole folkloric
research enterprise would spring up
recording the history and spread
of variant versions, and music camps
and festivals year round would pump
money into depressed pubs and Kansas
storefronts and New England hamlets
—and that’s just the start: add art,
and we’ll be talking global.

~ Robin Chapman


This poem was copied from http://versewisconsin.org/Issue110/poems/chapman.html with the permission of the poet, who owns the copyright to it. You can find a bio of Robin Chapman at http://www.pw.org/content/robin_chapman.

The January Challenge:

The January Challenge is to submit a poem about what you would do (or try to do) were you put in charge of the government of your country, state or province, city or town (or, perhaps even of the United Nations). Or you can write it as advice to your king, prime minister, president, governor or mayor. Your poem may be serious or whimsical, free verse or formal. However it must NOT be a rant against a particular person or political organization. Remember the general rule about not staying far from family-friendly language. Focus on your hopes, not your fears.

Title your poem unless it is haiku or another form that does not use titles. If you use a form, please identify the form when you submit your poem. Single-space, and don’t use lines that are overly long (because the blog format doesn’t accommodate long lines). The line length in the example poem above is the maximum. Please do not indent or center your poem on the page.

You may submit a published poem if you retain copyright, but please include publication data. This applies to poems published in books, journals, newspapers, or on the Internet.

The deadline is January 15. Poems submitted after the deadline will not be considered. There is no charge to enter, so there are no monetary rewards; however winners are published on this blog. Please don’t stray too far from “family-friendly” language. No simultaneous sub-missions, please. You should know by the end of the month whether or not your poem will be published on this blog. Decision of the judge or judges is final.

Copyright on each poem is retained by the poet. If a winning poem is published elsewhere later, please give credit to this blog.

How to Submit Your Poem:

Send one poem only to wildamorris[at]ameritech[dot]net (substitute the @ sign for “at” and a . for “dot”). Put “January Poetry Challenge Submission” in the subject line of your email. Include a brief bio which can be printed with your poem if you are a winner this month. Please put your name and bio under the poem in your email.

Submission of a poem gives permission for the poem to be posted on the blog if it is a winner, so be sure that you put your name (exactly as you would like it to appear if you do win) at the end of the poem. Poems may be pasted into an email or sent as an attachment (no pdf files, please). Please do not indent the poem or center it on the page. It helps if you submit the poem in the format used on the blog (Title and poem left-justified; title in bold (not all in capital letters); your name at the bottom of the poem). Also, please do not use spaces instead of commas in the middle of lines. I have no problem with poets using that technique (I sometimes do it myself). However I have difficulty getting the blog to accept and maintain extra spaces.

Poems shorter than 40 lines are generally preferred but longer poems will be considered.



© Wilda Morris

Thursday, December 29, 2016

December Winners - Cat Poems

Photo by Kathy Marie Penrod


The judges for the December Poetry Challenge were Jim Lambert and Jacob Erin-Cilberto. Here is what they said about the entries: The reason we picked so many was because this was a group of good poems. We are cat lovers and almost all of the entries reminded us of the great bond and love that can develop between humans and cats. These poems forced us to make difficult decisions. We do want to remind everyone--whether they placed or not, that no poem is a "loser", it's just that some poems are less in need of more work, revisions, etc., than others.

Since so many good poems were submitted, there are more winners than usual.

First place goes to “Cat Burglar.” The poet has paid particular attention to sounds

Cat Burglar

No creak, creep, crack or
crunch, no bump, thump,
or faintest whump,
no inkling the one thieving
at night in my diggings,
pilfering plundering.

Unfettered snooze,
refused—mystery brewed—
denied nod to my hazy noggin;
I spied,
moonscape obscured,
she a crepuscule murk,
like a phantasm
sashayed the wall.

A hissing meower,
swarthy, spry, prowler
waiting, salivating,
her witching hour.

Nightly, lithely,
slid uninvited,
lapping her tongue
like a spring that sprung
in my sweet clotted cream.

~ Marsha S. Smith


The second place poem gives us another perspective on our house cats:

Beast

Newspapers piled
      like     scattered    leaves.

Instinct battles domesticity.

Stoic defender--
like a Grenadier,
    silent, in front of the stove,
until morning comes.

The can opener’s whirr
says it’s ok
to forgo the hunt.

~ Carol H. Jewell


“Feeding the Stray,” the third place poem, gives us a bit of a surprise:

Feeding the Stray

I don’t remember when you began squatting in the yard,
a semicolon behind the gnarl of a bush-between-seasons,
but there you were, your limelight stare coring me. 

I opened a can of tuna fish & dumped it onto a paper plate.
You slinked back under the porch, shadow that you were,
waited until I went inside.  Months of me popping cans


& you dodging.  What a starved thing you were—sometimes
returning hours later for more.  What did I know of the sins
or graces you committed in the hours away, only that you

seemed famishment incarnate so I fed you.  One morning,
this same ritual; you devouring then leaving.  Then returning
moments later as if you hadn’t just been here, a furry déjà vu.

I took out the trash & you were impossibly crossing the street. 
I mean you were in the yard, how could you cross my path
without my seeing you?  I looked over the fence & you were

licking the edge of the dish.  I looked to the neighbor’s & you
were stretching under the car parked in the driveway. 
The dawning—like that of the magician’s top hat your hand

falls into, releasing the false bottom & you discover a white
feather punctuating the felt—proof not of the dove’s existence,
but evidence of it having been, at least once, wild hunger waiting.

~ Flower Conroy


First Honorable Mention was awarded to a poem that paints a picture as it provides a brief narrative: 

Sudden Change
Observations made of a spoiled housecat

Zara our twelve pound lump
of whiskered calico sheen
lay at full stretch playing
a cricket she had turned upside
down its thin legs batting air.

After permanently changing
the cricket’s outlook on life
she loses interest--then with
one more playful swipe
at the helpless spinning shell—

sashays on her way.

~ Michael Escoubas


The poem selected for Second Honorable Mention takes us to China and a natural disaster:

Sichuan Earthquake 2008

“Cats will open the door,
but they will never close it behind them.”
How simple the fact!
Or is it a symbol?
The fact is this—the government is corrupt.
Fear holds the populace behind the door.
Inside crowd suffering, darkness, overwork.
Outside truth splays itself unconstrained.
Inside a mother’s desire darkens her eyes.
Outside the child sparkles with life.
Ai Weiwei names the children
crushed in the earthquake, dead in their schools.
He opens a door, he twitters the truths.
Fear and fury enliven the police.
How simple the confrontation!
The cat has opened the door—slipped out.
Five thousand names flowed out,
accusing the authorities,
and will not be silenced.
How simple a cause for confinement! 
So sorry.

~ Julia Rice


NOTE ON THIS POEM:
Ai Weiwei, Chinese artist and activist, was confined for revealing the names of 5000 children who died in a poorly constructed school, which collapsed in an earthquake. This poem was inspired by the biographical documentary “Never Sorry.” 


Congratulations to all the winners! Please remember that the poets own copyright to their work and do not violate their rights. Check back at the beginning of next month for the January Poetry Challenge. You might be the winner.


BIOS

Flower Conroy is the author of three chapbooks: Facts About Snakes & Hearts, winner of Heavy Feather Press’ Chapbook Contest; The Awful Suicidal Swans; and Escape to Nowhere. She is the winner of Radar Poetry’s first annual Coniston Prize and the Tennessee Williams Exhibit Poetry Contest, as well as a scholarship recipient of Bread Loaf, Squaw Valley, Napa Valley and the Key West Literary Seminar. She is poetry editor at Sourland Mountain Review. Her poetry has appeared/is forthcoming in American Literary Review, Prairie Schooner, Gargoyle and others.

Jacob Erin-Cilberto lives in Southern Illinois with Elsie
the cat and teaches English at Shawnee Hills and John A. Logan community
colleges. He has published poetry in dozens of poetry journals and
on-line publications beginning in the 1970's. Several of his poetry
books are available at Amazon.com.

Michael Escoubas began writing poetry for publication in August of 2013, after retiring from a 48-year-career in the printing industry. Early in life his mother said, “You have a gift for words; you should do something with that gift. He writes poetry, in part, because of his mother’s encouraging words. Michael also writes poetry because he believes poetry brings people together and that poets are menders of broken things. Michael has published one chapbook, Light Comes Softly, which is available by contacting the author.

Carol H. Jewell is a mother, wife, grandmother, librarian, musician and poet. She went back to school at age 52, at The College of Saint Rose (Albany, NY), and will receive her MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) in December 2016.

Jim Lambert is past president of the Southern Illinois Writers
Guild and current vice president of the Illinois State Poetry Society.
He has had poetry, short stories, and essays published in various
publications. He has lived in Southern Illinois since retiring from the
business world a decade ago.

Julia Rice is a retired lawyer, a Franciscan sister, who is writing in her retirement.

Marsha S. Smith is a wife, mom, and grandma who recently discovered a love for writing poetry. She is a licensed minister through the SoCal School of Ministry and a Police Chaplain in her hometown.






© Wilda Morris