February 2023 Winners: Beach Poems

 

 

Dunes by the Sea, 1648
by Jacob van Ruisdael
National Gallery of Art, DC

There were a number of excellent poems submitted for the February Poetry Challenge. A lot of people have good memories of time spent at the beach or have a yearning to find out what a day on the beach would be like. The judge, Linda Wallin, former president of Poets & Patrons of Chicago, selected Bonnie Proudfoot’s poem as the winner.

Behind the Dunes

And here we are again, on this hot blanket
on this scorching sand, under this scorching sun,
while the surf rolls in, rolls in, in silken curls,
each swell rising, rising up the shoreline,
and we’ve set the large umbrella to shade
our mother’s small frame, her silken curls,
her brown arms as thin as driftwood.

She moves slowly now, as if she has
so much time, solar time, the span of the arc
of all these sunlit days, of all of us
in her orbit, drawn to her side. We watch
her eyes close, see that she is, for the moment,
at peace with all the many defeats.
She used to do it all, bike to the beach,
powerwalk the shoreline, swim laps,
everyone had to race to keep up. 

These days she relies on our arms
or a cane, and I question the effort it takes
to get her to this blanket near the shore.
Still, we ease her into her chair,
tote the ice chest, food she can barely digest.
We are here, then, when the wind brings
the dank musk of seaweed, when other families pack up.
Their blankets drag trails on the sand, and their laughter
and calls fade into the flap and cry of the gulls.

Off shore, schools of spearing leap,
a sailboat bobs beside a buoy, dark surf
froths along a rocky jetty, but here she is,
under the fluttering umbrella,
the sun melting behind the dunes,
the crook of her fingers holding fast,
and why wouldn’t we stay until
all the shadows lengthen, why shouldn’t
this last day last long into the night?

~ Bonnie Proudfoot

Proudfoot’s poem has a lot of “s” sounds which seem to echo the sound of the water, and a lot of other alliteration—not enough to call attention to itself but enough to make the poem sing. It is a beach poem, a poem about aging, a poem about the family and the role of the mother, a poem about a strong woman nearing the end of her life. It is the poignancy of the poem that especially impressed Wallin as she judged the poems.

“Behind the Dunes” appeared Proudfoot’s chapbook of poems, Household Gods, published by Sheila-Na-Gig Editions in September 2022.

 

For second place, Wallin selected a poem reflecting on a particular day in 2020:

Ocean Beach San Francisco March 4, 2020

You begged and I promised to leave you
along the landing strip of sand
where once the unwrinkled less reliable characters
in our prequel rolled brave and tender
words between the ocean breeze over slaps
of great waves breaking from the west.
You call this place the end
of land while in my ken here begins
ocean―point A on the whale road to Asia.
For hours we wove fancies between flotsam
and jetsam of a comfortable cottage among dens
of the wealthy. Still we paused to pity unlucky
jellyfish caught in wind and wave
who could control no more than we.
Or we would admire harbor seals bouncing across the littoral
into fish rich upswell moving kelp forests under seabird wheels.
The tide ebbs and the tide flows
whether or not we cuddle hands to watch it.
A lucky wind blew us our daughter and
cold waves tumored your essence
leaving us scattering your sand
to accompany that of the intertidal zone and mine to come
where one day we will loop when rip tide
or typhoon remnants
see fit to ouroboros us
together for an end and
beginning.

~ Tyson West

West’s poem also takes us on a poignant journey, while pushing us to think philosophically. Is the shore (or beach) the end of the land or the beginning of the ocean, “point A on the whale road to Asia”? And what can any of us control, anyway? Wallin also liked how the poet included such a beautiful picture of the beach within what is really a love poem.

 

These poets retain copyright on their own poems.

 

Honorable Mentions selected by the judge:

“Beaches Are for Baby Feet” by Thomas Hemminger
“Kovalam Call and Response” by Lee Conger
“Chatterbox” by Joe Cottonwood
“Memories Made from the Impossible” by Angela Hoffman
and an untitled poem by Joan Leotta

 

Bios:

Lee Conger is a community organizer, native habitat restorer, and amateur opera singer in Los Angeles, California. He makes money as a Narrative Therapist and teacher of Integral Qigong and Tai Chi. Lee boosts his own microbiome diversity with homemade lactofermented ketchup.

Joe Cottonwood has repaired hundreds of houses to support his writing habit in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. His latest book of poetry is Random Saints.

Thomas Hemminger is an elementary music teacher living in Dallas, Texas with his wife and son. He writes many poems and songs for his classroom. His personal and professional hero is Mr. Fred Rogers, the creator and host of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. Being the son of an English Language Arts teacher, Thomas grew up surrounded by prose and poetry. Furthermore, his mother’s love of verse, and her own talented pen, impressed a deep love for the art within him. He recently started having poems published online through the Wilda Morris Poetry Challenge, and through texaspoetryassignment.org.

Angela Hoffman’s poetry collections include Resurrection Lily (Kelsay Books, 2022) and Olly Olly Oxen Free (forthcoming, Kelsay Books, 2023). She placed third in the WFOP Kay Saunders Memorial Emerging Poet in 2022. Her poems have been published internationally. She has written a poem a day since the start of the pandemic. Angela lives in rural Wisconsin.

Joan Leotta plays with words on page and stage. She performs tales of food, family, strong women. Internationally published, she’s a 2021 and 2022 Pushcart nominee, Best of the Net 2022 nominee, and  2022 runner-up in Robert Frost Competition. Her essays, poems, and fiction appear in Ekphrastic Review, The Lake, and more. Her new chapbook, Feathers on Stone is out from Main Street Rag.

Bonnie Proudfoot's debut chapbook of poems, Household Gods, was published by Sheila-Na-Gig Editions in September 2022. Her novel, Goshen Road (2020, OU Swallow Press) was Long-listed for the PEN/Hemingway, and awarded the 2022 WCONA Book of the Year. She's published fiction, essays, and poetry. Bonnie lives outside of Athens, Ohio.

Linda Wallin found out late in life that all of her degrees did not help one bit when it came to writing poetry. She continues to write down what bubbles up and is grateful for friends who encourage her. You can read some of her poems on http://www.dwna.net/, Wallin's Wave at http://wallinswave.blogspot.com/,  and Living with Geniuses at https://lwallin.wordpress.com/. 

Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington. He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate. He was the featured USA poet at Muse Pie Press from December 2019 through December 2022.

 

Tune in on March 1 for a new Poetry Challenge.  

 

© Wilda Morris

 

 

 

 

 

Winning November Poems for 2022

 

 

 

Artillery Hell by Capt. James Hope who served at the Battle of Antietam
From the website of the National Park Service

 

This is the second consecutive year in which the poetry challenge was for a “November poem.” You can see last year’s winning poems at https://wildamorris.blogspot.com/2021/11/winning-poems-about-november.html, and click at the bottom of that post to see the prompt poems.). I have been surprised by how few of the poems were primarily about Thanksgiving. Both poets whose poems were used as prompt poems this month - June Nirschl and Elizabeth Harmatys Park agreed to judge the submissions.

The winning poem this year is grimmer than anything submitted last year. but it is beautifully written.

November 1862    

            On the way home from Sharpsburg, MD

I sink as I march through the woods, wish
the ground to swallow me. Musket smoke
still hangs in my nostrils.

            Away from there,

I lift my eyes to pray, air crisp with sweet
pawpaw leaves and syrup-colored maples,

see a tanager in the pines, hear the oriole’s
pure, liquid whistles, rich flute and piccolo,
flutter-drums of passion, beating of wings.

But the buzz around those carcasses
maggot my thoughts. I am running now,

            away from there,

away from cornfields scattered with ears
pressed to the ground, hair silked with blood,
bodies husked in gray and blue;

away from the fields littered with death.
I feel my own reaper close behind
swinging his scythe. My arm severed

to shoulder bone; my limb thrown
among other arms and legs onto piles,
only its ghost remains to taunt me.

But today, I am coming home.

Away from there.

~John C. Mannone

In a note attached to his poem, Mannone said that the Battle of Antietam fought in Sharpsburg, MD [Sept 17, 1862], was the bloodiest one-day battle of the Civil War with 28000 American casualties. He also metntioned that this poem is part of the 2nd place winning set in the 2014 Knoxville Writers’ Guild Poetry Contest. "November 1862" first appeared in Blood and Spades (Horror Writers Association Newsletter, November 2017).

Nirschl chose this poem for first place. She said, “This poem captured the significance of the Battle of Antietam and the effect it had on its survivors. It succeeded in relaying the effect of the war on the individual with a melodic grace. The poem embodies the senses and the poet's ability to relay them.”

Park awarded it an honorable mention, saying, “This poem is so well written it is both beautiful and dreadful at the same time.  It tells a story, is a narrative poem with a lyrical quality.”

 

Park selected a different poem for first place:

Silver Sun on A November Morning

A polished silver disc appeared
through the mist this morning--
sun disguised as a full moon,
a luminous gray circle,
rolling across the sky,
following me as I walked.
I heard him laughing
at those who think he is
moon gone mad because
his face is covered with a silver veil.
Gradually, sun parts fog’s
gossamer and all see
him radiating in his
golden splendor against a blue sky.
Restored to his own appearance,
he smiles his light down—
not much warmth,
but then again,
it is November.

~ Joan Leotta

Park explained her decision: “This poem makes good use of a charming and unique metaphor, the sun as moon.  The sun is often overlooked as the focus of attention in November.  There is that wonderful contrast of fog and gossamer light and the surprising warmth of a November sun."

 

 

The following poem is the only one other than “November 1962” that was selected by both judges.

Pay Attention to the Prophets 

The sun shines through the trees the color of honey.
Leaves dripping, drop down to the ground.
With each step, sweet stickiness cleaves to my soles.
Pink geraniums stand faithful, despite the frost overnight.
As the light softens, the shadow of the sunflower
          lengthens
wears its soul on its face, offering inner sanctum
          to finches.
white pines unveil their brown needles in abundance
ushering in devotion beneath their contemplative silence.
The day folds its hands in ritual, making itself smaller.
The inevitable lurks amid Fall's change.
Cloistered in this moment lies the sacred text
belonging to both heaven and earth.
Geese in their faithful formation beg that I look up, listen.
They ask that I join, pay attention.

~ Angela Hoffman

Park selected this poem as 2^nd place. She said, “This poem has worldly sensual references to sound, touch and color.  With the consistent use of metaphors such as soul, sanctum, ritual and cloistered, it also includes the transcendent.  That is skillfully done in a complex poem where nothing is wasted.”

Nirschl selected it as third place. Her comments: “Without mentioning the month, the poet provides more than enough to illustrate November. Two lines that struck me are: Cloistered in this moment lies the sacred text/belonging to both heaven and earth.”

The next poem was chosen for 2^nd place by Nirschl:

November Swirls

I had grown taller
confused of swell and itch I felt at
the swirl of Judy's red skirt’s pleats.
Too the earth change mauled me after the sugar high
and soaped windows of Samhain
riding to Saint Michael's mass of All Saints' Day obligation.
Choking in the too tight neck button of last year's white shirt
I caught the crimson, yellow, and orange swirl
under the jet stream bow
denuding maple, oak, and sassafras.
I ground sad spice with the stones of mother's sorrow
a special All Souls' Day prayer
for the soul and spirits shattered body of Grandpa Pete.
His fine tenor now she swore sings with choirs of seraphim.
November became an unseen woman, organza dress winking
her long legged strides in shadow and desire.
Whisps and tension lurked in spirals and snowstorms
spicing dark days and depression to Thanksgiving.
Mother's martinet menuing of homemade pies and casseroles
assigning roles to spouse and sons and daughters
directed our theater of the absurd feast.
Wine sipping parents and aunts select this instant to feel gratitude for
my year of missed grades, detention, and ADD moments
railing the ultimate mystery of the universe
"Why do you do what you do?"
Defects of nature and my failure of pluck
eclipsed the mystery of the northwest winds.
Inward November’s last few days focused
on wooden desks with holes for inkwells we never used
our teachers chatter of basketball games
fluttering now red and white decorations to mask
her cold swirl and warm whispers in the forest
vowing reconciliation to my kink and quandary
once we breathe alone.

~ Tyson West

Nirschl said, “The title of this poem is perfect. So much happens in November or because of it, and the poet got it right. After any given amount of time, the events do ‘swirl.’ I felt as if I could have been part of these events.”

Park’s choice for 3^rd Place is “Armistice Day.”

Armistice Day

Somewhere poppies spring
from blood-soaked earth,
rain greens the fields of the dead,
smoke rises from fires unquenched.
We will never forget, people say.

While here on November 11
flowers have been mown to stubble,
graveyards are silent and deserted
and snow covers the path to the gate.
We forget why there’s no mail today.

~ Irene Alderson

Commenting on “Armistice Day,” Park said, “This poem is deceptively simple but it packs a punch.  An unforgettable bloody history is marked by an unforgettable day that is easily forgotten.  That contrast is shocking.”

 

Honorable Mentions

Nirschl selected two poems for honorable mention:

1. “Forever Autumn” by Toastingfork. June’s comments: “The poem addresses the climate crisis directly. The rhyme scheme is subtle and effective.”

2. “November Revelation” by Elaine Sorrentino. June’s comment: “The poem is thoughtful and addresses the poet's own awareness of time's passage.”

 

Thank you to all who submitted poems this month. Congratulations to all the winners! Each poet retains copyright on his or her own poem.

 

For more about Capt. James Hope and his paintings, see https://www.nps.gov/anti/learn/photosmultimedia/hopepaintings.htm.

 

Bios:

Irene Alderson performs regularly with the Bosso Poetry Company, a collective of writers and musicians based in Minneapolis. Her poetry has appeared online, on the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride, and in her self-published chapbook, Flying Between the Snows. She lives with her husband and a loquacious super senior cat.

Angela Hoffman’s poetry collections include Resurrection Lily (Kelsay Books, 2022) and Olly Olly Oxen Free (forthcoming, Kelsay Books, 2023). She placed third in the WFOP Kay Saunders Memorial Emerging Poet, 2022. Her poetry has appeared in Solitary Plover, Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets’ Museletter and Calendar, Agape Review, Verse-Virtual, Visual Verse, Your Daily Poem, Writing In A Woman’s Voice, Moss Piglet, Amethyst Review, Orchards Poetry Journal, and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. She has written a poem a day since the start of the pandemic. Angela lives in Jefferson, Wisconsin. 

Joan Leotta plays with words on page and stage. She performs tales featuring food, family, nature, and strong women. Her writings are in Synkroniciti, Ekphrastic Review, Pinesong, The Sun, Brass Bell, Verse Visual, anti-heroin chic, Gargoyle, Silver Birch, Ovunquesiamo, Verse Virtual, Poetry in Plain Sight, Red Eft, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Yellow Mama, Crimeucopia, and others. She’s a 2021 Pushcart nominee, received Best of Micro Fiction, 2021 (Haunted Waters), nominee for Best of the Net, 2023, and 2022 runner up in Frost Foundation Poetry Competition. Her second chapbook, Feathers on Stone, is coming in late 2022 from Main Street Rag. 

John C. Mannone has poems in Windhover, North Dakota Quarterly, Poetry South, Baltimore Review, and others. He won the Impressions of Appalachia Creative Arts Contest in poetry (2020), the Carol Oen Memorial Fiction Prize (2020), and the Joy Margrave Award (2015, 2017) for creative nonfiction. He was awarded a Jean Ritchie Fellowship (2017) in Appalachian literature and served as the celebrity judge for the National Federation of State Poetry Societies (2018). His full-length collections are Disabled Monsters (Linnet’s Wings Press, 2015), Flux Lines: The Intersection of Science, Love, and Poetry (Linnet’s Wings Press, 2021), Sacred Flute (Iris Press, 2022), and Song of the Mountains (Middle Creek Publishing, 2023). He edits poetry for Abyss & Apex and other journals. A physics professor at Alice Lloyd College, John lives in southeast Kentucky.

June Nirschl has been a resident of Door County since 2000. She has been fortunate in finding a flourishing community of poets. Her career included teaching high school English and serving as a municipal clerk.

Elizabeth Harmatys Park is a past recipient of the Jade Ring First Poetry Prize awarded by the Wisconsin Writers Association. Her poetry has been published in journals, anthologies, and the Wisconsin Poetry Calendar. Park writes with Authors Echo in Burlington, WI.

Elaine Sorrentino, Communications Director at South Shore Conservatory in Hingham, MA, has been published in Minerva Rising, Willawaw Journal, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Ekphrastic Review, Writing in a Women’s Voice, Global Poemic, ONE ART: a journal of poetry, The Door is a Jar, Agape Review, Haiku Universe, Sparks of Calliope, Muddy River Poetry Review, Your Daily Poem, Etched Onyx Magazine, and at  wildamorris.blogspot.com.  She was recently featured on a poetry podcast at Onyx Publications.

Toastingfork is a reclusive poet favouring anonymity in out-of-date utensils, seeking the shadows while stoking the flames, and tarnishing our daily bread while loading us up with carbs."

Tyson West has published speculative fiction and poetry in free verse, form verse and haiku distilled from his mystical relationship with noxious weeds and magpies in Eastern Washington.  He has no plans to quit his day job in real estate. He is currently the featured USA poet at Muse Pie Press.

 

Check back on December 1 for a new prompt.

 

 

© Wilda Morris