July 2022 Challenge: Hats and Other Headgear

Photo from Christy Schwan

There were many excellent poems submitted this month. The judge, Cristina M. R. Norcross, said, “I truly enjoyed reading this selection of poems.  I loved the sheer variety of unique approaches to this theme. . . . I had to make some tough choices. Congratulations to all of the writers who submitted.  This was wonderful work.”

It was interesting to see how many kinds of headgear provided subjects for poems including straw hat, swim cap, pillbox hat, lace veil, stocking cap, homburg, birdcage hat, baseball cap, deer-hunting wool hat with ear flaps, military dress-uniform hat, tasseled graduation hat, hat with college logo, crown, pith helmet, hair towel, felt hat, fedora, scarf, wig, even an (evidently hooded) Batman cape!

 

Christy Schwan’s poem, “Chosen,” was chosen for first place.

Chosen

untouched, unworn for years
his hat collection
hangs in his empty office
waits for his arm to reach up
make his choice for the day
lift one off the nailed railing
as he heads for the fields

they no longer jockey for position
no jovial nudges between
seed corn, fertilizer, farm implement
logo-embellished caps
unneeded, unseen
they glimpse the comings and goings
of grand, then great-grand children

choked by layers of dust
grown stiff with disuse
faded to pale shades
of their former glory
they groan as doors
jostle their lineup
open and shut without them

then a child riding on her father’s shoulders
points to a vintage deer trademark
the great-grandmother’s eyes sparkle
gnarled hands reach heavenward
brush off the awakened hat
to a collective sigh of joy

chosen once again

~ Christy Schwan

Norcross said, “I enjoyed the pacing of the poem and the animated sense of life given to the hats described. The lovely turn at the end, of one of the hats being chosen by a child, and how this joy brings a sense of awakening, is so endearing and engaging. These last four lines hold a special magic, ‘gnarled hands reach heavenward / brush off the awakened hat / to a collective sigh of joy / chosen once again.’”

 

 

The second-place poem, by Cameron Morse, speaks of an entirely different kind of head covering:

Optune  

My head is bandaged.
The tan tape holds my head
together, pressing ceramic 
discs to a cleanly 
shaven scalp. That’s part
of the deal, you have to buzz- 
saw away with the Pitbull 
Gold skull shaver every 
smidgeon of stubble. Otherwise, 
the transducer arrays may lift 
and they need full contact 
to produce the electric fields 
that dismay the tumor. It’s humid 
in July in the show me state. 
My scalp sweats below 
the circuit board. The air itself 
is an adhesive no amount of 
hydrogel can salve. Somewhere 
in my right hemisphere, 
a tumor cell is trying to split 
apart and encounters some 
turbulence. My daughter pulls 
on the telephone cord that connects 
me to the device. A loose 
connection in the box clipped 
to my hip gives me a jolt 
through the discs. I cry out 
then google “electroshock therapy” 
I’ve gotten so many shocks I should have 
been cured twelve times by now.  

 ~ Cameron Morse

Norcross explained why she selected “Optune” as a winner: “This poem about a person receiving treatment for a brain tumor is so tender, touching, and carefully written. Wearing bandages as a hat is a unique image, and for the speaker, this is a sign of great courage.  We are immediately drawn into this world through descriptive details and a sense of vulnerability. 

 

Mary Cohutt’s third-place poem has a different take on hats.

Hats at Random

my father once told me
never trust a man who wears a hat to look taller
he said this as a man walked by
his hat perched precariously on the very top of his head
a stiff breeze
would have sent him on a frosty the snowman sprint
my father never wore a hat
except on the coldest days
lime green and orange, with a look-at-me pompom
a whimsical choice
for a man not known for whimsy
I wish I looked good in hats
I admire women who put on a hat
and their eyes become luminous
their cheeks more hollowed
and their lips part as if to share a delicious secret
in my cellar
on a rusty hook next to my hoe
hangs a wide brimmed straw hat with a work-stained band
I put on this hat
and look out to a world of color
of texture
of delicate butterflies
and buzzing bees
I see my hands in the warmed earth
as they make room for more color
and my own image is forgotten

~ Mary Cohutt

“I truly enjoyed the flow of this poem, the detailed descriptions, and the imagery,” says Norcross. “The last 3 lines about ‘hands in warmed earth’ felt so meditative and rich.  The whole poem engages the senses and takes the reader on a journey that has a sense of immediacy.”

 

Honorable Mentions

To Zee Zahava for a haiku beginning with “sister crow.” The judge’s comments: “I love how creative and unique the image is in this poem of the crow wearing a snowflake as a hat.  The description of an “April beret” is perfect.”

To Charles Kouri for “tussling our flounces.” The judge’s comments: “This poem deserves mention just for the language itself, the musicality of it and the very visual nature of the poem.  I loved the word play in this one, the alliteration and the juxtaposition of words.  It is an enticing read.”

 

Bios:

Mary Cohutt is an information specialist for her local Council on Aging. She grew up in a family with 12 children. She has two adult children and two grandchildren. Her favorite activities include reading, painting and gardening.

Charles Kouri is playwright, lyricist and producer of two full-length musicals, REBEL and 24WORDS, which feature stories and original songs inspired by the Equal Rights Movement. He recently began writing poetry and is publishing 304-Days-With-3-Days-Missing, a series of 301 poems written during the pandemic. 

Cameron Morse (he, him) is Senior Reviews editor at Harbor Review and the author of eight collections of poetry. His first collection, Fall Risk, won Glass Lyre Press’s 2018 Best Book Award. His book of unrhymed sonnets, Sonnetizer, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books. He holds an MFA from the University of Kansas City-Missouri and lives in Independence, Missouri, with his wife Lili and three children. For more information, check out his Facebook page or website.    

Cristina M. R. Norcross lives in Southeast Wisconsin and is the editor of the online poetry journal, Blue Heron Review.  Author of 9 poetry collections, a multiple Pushcart Prize nominee, and an Eric Hoffer Book Award nominee, her most recent books are The Sound of a Collective Pulse (Kelsay Books, 2021) and Beauty in the Broken Places (Kelsay Books, 2019).  Cristina’s work appears in:Visual Verse, Your Daily Poem, Poetry Hall, Verse-Virtual, The Ekphrastic Review, and Pirene’s Fountain, among others.  Her work also appears in numerous print anthologies.  Cristina has helped organize community art/poetry projects, has led writing workshops, and has hosted many readings.  She is the host of the Facebook writing prompt group, Connection and Creativity in Challenging Times and is the co-founder of Random Acts of Poetry & Art Day.  Find out more about this author at: www.cristinanorcross.com.

Christy Schwan is a native Hoosier author/poet living in Wisconsin. She's a rockhound, wild berry picker, wildflower seeker, astronomy studier, and quiet sports lover of kayaking, canoeing, snowshoeing and loon spotting. Her work has been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, Museletter, Ariel Anthology, 8142 Review, 2022 Wisconsin Poet's Calendar, and Bramble Lit Mag.

Zee Zahava lives in Ithaca, New York.

 

 

 

 

 

November Poetry Challenge Winners

The November Poetry Challenge elicited a number of interesting poems. Congratulations to all who entered for their creativity. And a special congratulations to the four winners.

The judge for the November Poetry Challenge was Maureen Tolman Flannery. She gave an honorable mention to Sheila Elliot for her prose poem.

Change

For a change, I thought I'd go east down that old road with a saint's name, so white-knuckled, I watched beams of light ice the top flanks of a dozen octagonal signs.  Night approaching.  Wipers snapping like mean little whips against the windshield's elusive steaming. For this change, I paid a price, watched the fading light descend into the blackest grey.

Change is not cheap.  It rattles in pockets like something about to break. It somersaults its way into the beggar's cup or echoes with the sound of a flat note as it lands in the open shell of the street musician's open guitar case.  "Keep the change," I tell the waiter, so noblesse oblige.  I keep those old school coins cold as the sacramental medals that once dangled beneath my ironed uniform blouse, though change does not always warm the heart.  Change can still bring you back to start, to home where slippers replace shoes and spare change is tossed into an old can and takes its place discreetly in that illusionary wealth.

~ Sheila Elliott

Third place goes to a poem the judge says is thoughtful and captures a memorable moment. It is by
Mary Cohutt.

Falling

Grandma, I’m so in love with this toy….

You can’t fall in love with things…… I said with my grown up tone

And then I saw

His lashes fall to cheek

His chin fall to chest

His toy fall from hand

I felt my 60 year guard fall……. and remembered myself

…and thought of …

A falling star wish and hopes for tomorrow

The long fall from Grace and sweetness of redemption

Cool water as it falls over moss covered rocks

The liquid gold fall of late day light

The happy foot crunch of yellowed fall leaves

Falling asleep on a sun scented pillow

…and I could feel my heart fall in love with this life….

I fell to my knees and lifted his chin

Cajoled his fallen lashes ‘till blue met blue

And I let three simple words fall from my lips

I was wrong

~ Mary Cohutt

The judge said the second place poem by Eileen Kimbrough was very clever. She liked the “on-target word play,”

Just Write Right

Will you have the right to write a will,

and the will to be right

when you write your will?

Will you do the right thing

within your rights?

Will you write about

your right to write your will?

This rite of passage falls right when

all that’s left is to write a will.

Just step to the right of must

and trust your guts,

no windy gust of musts.

I trust you’ll write

your will and your trust,

not too far to the left.

It’s right that it’s your right.

Just be sure it’s just.

And make it just right.

Write just. Write right. Just write.

~ Eileen Kimbrough

The  judge said that Lindsey Bellosa's poem, “Solace” the first place poem, “is a very moving poem, not at all bogged down by the desire to re-use or overuse a word.” I think you will agree.

Solace

Snowflakes, small and sharp as tears, float into the lake

as each small pain sharpens into future—

the sky has been pregnant with snow for days. 

I have bled for five days, less pregnant each one.

The leaves shed on the ground, so vibrant,

as I shed color too: exposed; becoming barren

as each stark tree.  Winter bares down with gray.

The sun gleams dimly on the lake, and the earth

and God turn dimly away from the situation.

Your soul, whatever it was, melts

and becomes only me. The snowflakes melt

into the lake; leaves disappear under blank snow.

There will be another like you; there will be new leaves

in spring.  But you vanish, as this season vanishes—

all like a dream, as summer seems a dream

in the dead of winter.

The snowflakes still catch the light

and I catch each sharp breath

glittering.  Life goes on, coldly,

and there is solace in that.

~ Lindsey Bellosa

All of these poems remain the property of the poets who wrote them.

Bios:

Lindsey Bellosa lives in Syracuse, NY.  She has an MA in Writing from the National University of Ireland, Galway and has poems published in both Irish and American journals: most recently The Comstock Review, The Galway Review, IthacaLit, Crannog, and The MOON Magazine.  Her first chapbook, The Hunger, was published with Willet Press in 2014.

Mary Cohutt is a Leasing Consultant in Western Massachusetts. She also has a small business called "The Good Daughter" in which she takes care of household paperwork/business for the elderly. She has two children and two grandchildren. In addition to writing, she enjoys gardening and reading.

Sheila Elliott's poetry can be found in the Illinois Women's Press Association's 2014 anthology of prose and poetry.  She is a regular contributor at Oak Park (IL) Writer's Group events, including their annual public reading in November.  Her poetry and prose can be found in their anthology, Keystrokes. 

Eileen Kimbrough is a graduate of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She has produced visual arts in many media and exhibited in art galleries, museums, colleges, and gift shops throughout Illinois. She has been employed as a graphic designer, editorial and fashion illustrator, receptionist, bookkeeper and salesperson.  Eileen has sold many copies of her self-published poetry book, Painting with Words, and contributed the poems and art for Wings for the Soul, published by a non-profit. Her stories and poems were published in Rivulets. She lives in Aurora with her husband, Bob Walker, innumerable books and artistic clutter.

A bio for Maureen Tolman Flannery can be found in the previous post.

Check back early in December for the next Poetry Challenge.

© Wilda Morris