March 2020 Poetry Challenge - Reunions

A Caprice with a Ruined Arch

by Francesco Guardi – Italian (from Venice), 1712-1793

From the National Gallery of Art, London

When I posted the March Challenge, I didn’t know that I would get home from a sibling reunion just a few hours before a “shelter-in-place” decree would go into effect, or that, by mid-March I would be wondering if our 2020 cousin reunion would take place later this year, or have to be canceled. I was still hoping to attend an informal class reunion on Memorial Day Weekend. And now many of us are looking forward to reunion with loved ones sheltering in different places. I’m wondering when my granddaughter from Arkansas can come visit us without risk to herself or to us—a visit postponed as a result of the pandemic.

Some of the poems submitted this month had to do with family reunions, but both winning poems relate to school class reunions. First, the winning free verse poem:

Every Other Letter in the Word Reunion Spells RUIN

In the mid-18^th Century, ruins were romantic destinations,

broken abbeys to climb, crumbling castles and temples

robbed of stone and statues to venerate. Flowers to paint,

seeds carried from distant places growing in Coliseum cracks

ground by hooves of gladiators.

Now ruins lie in cities like East Berlin and Detroit,

battered by swift reversals. Classrooms, entry halls,

theaters are crusted with layers of mud and dirt, fixtures hang

from exposed wires, cobwebs like curtains cover stages,                                                       

classroom biology mannequins shiver, exposed to rain and ice. 

ExUrbers explore, illegal voyeurs, tiptoe on broken stairways,

peer into elevator shafts, pause at the entrance to a domed ballroom

bereft of dancers.

In Fukushima, photographers stalk houses, cars, streets

now buried under bright green moss. In aerial views of parking lots,

cars are pond stones in a moss-covered lake. Robots enter contaminated

buildings, photograph unfinished meals on long restaurant tables,

dinner plates and cutlery still in place, napkins tossed on top. 

Shop counters are piled with merchandise ready for check-out. 

On a blackboard, chalked messages encourage Fukushima to be strong.

At my high school reunion, another exploration of creeping time.  

Who are these people? I have only the dimmest recollection. 

Yearbooks are no help, nor the photos on our nametags. 

A man says to me, “I remember you as bigger.” 

Or perhaps it was, “You are smaller than I recall.” 

I am a curiosity to be scrutinized by strangers from another age.

~ Mary C. Rowin

This poem is very well constructed. It begins with ancient ruins, then moves to more contemporary ruins before getting to the high school reunion. This is a creative and unusual juxtaposition.

There are “r” sounds throughout the poem, some at the beginning or endings of words and some in the middle. They all resonate with the words “ruin” and “reunion.” In addition, there is a lot of alliteration with hard sounds as the ruins are described, especially the hard “c” and the “b” sounds. In terms of sonics, the poem is very rich.

I also selected a winning rhyming poem. I think you will enjoy it, too.

Class Reunion

I got my invitation in the mail

Thought at first that I would bail

Would they still think of me as friend

Those classmates that I knew back then

Class reunions – I don’t know

Perhaps I think I just won’t go

After school, we parted ways

I’m not sure how we’d feel these days

These reunions come in five-year spurts

Bring back the joys - - - bring back the hurts

Would they be upset if I don’t show

Perhaps now maybe I might go

I’ll see the girl first held my hand

And the guys that played in my first band

And all those places open late

Where you could take that special date

And that blond that I’d still like to know

On second thought – I think I’ll go

I wonder who I’ll get to see

I’ll bet some aged much more than me

After 50 years they may have changed

Body masses rearranged

It will be interesting and so

Yea – I’m sure that I will go

I went and saw just old folks there

Either grey or no more hair

All movements were at snail pace

And wrinkles filled up every face

I know on me age didn’t show

Next time I think I just won’t go

~ Mike Dailey

The rhyming and rhythm of this poem are good. The back and forth as the narrator ponders whether or not to attend reunions, and his denial that age shows on him as it does on his old classmates make the poem fun.

Congratulations to the winners! They retain copyright on their poems.

Bios:

Mike Dailey is a fairly well known poet in southeast North Carolina. He lives near Sunset Beach with his wife of 48 years and the occasional visits with his daughter and two grandkids. His poems have been published in several magazines and anthologies. He has had three books of poetry published; one based on cancer treatments he underwent, one based on his 30 years working as a civilian analyst for the US Army, and a book of spiritual poems. He is currently putting together a collection of children’s’ poems and looking for a publisher. Mike Dailey’s poetry can be serious, topical, or very moving but he is known more for his rhythm and rhyme poetry with a twist of humor. 

Mary C. Rowin’s poetry and reviews have appeared in publications such as Burningword, Red Coyote Literary Journal and Portage Magazine. A poem in Blue Heron was nominated for the Push Cart Anthology. A microchap, “What She Kept,” was published by Origami Poems Project. Mary lives with her husband in Middleton, Wisconsin.

Check back on April 1 for the next Poetry Challenge!

© Wilda Morris