Thank you to everyone who participated in this round of the quarterly poetry contest! Please enjoy the excellent submissions for the competition below.
Not only do we appreciate your continuing efforts in keeping poetry relevant and fun, but the added impact of this month's contributions to the Haitian earthquake relief effort gave our work new, additional importance. I'm happy to announce that through several generous donations by our poets we were able to give more than the usual minimum contest fees to Doctors Without Borders.
Though our topic for this Valentine's Day was "Dumped!" we perhaps participated with more 'love' than we might have initially guessed. Congratulations to the winner and thank you to our judge, Sara Bauer.
Our regular contest will continue with a new theme next quarter.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A message from: Sara Bauer
Thank you to everyone who submitted to this contest, as your poems were the basis of some lively discussion on Valentine's Day Eve.
"Indecision" maintained my interest because of its two-part structure and its reference to relationship foibles that made me think, I've been there. The scene with the menus and the perceived distance between the couple was interesting because the poet worked a metaphor to new advantage, I think, with the introduction of sushi. I always wonder at diners needing a sushi menu when they've been eating the stuff for years. For me, this hinted at indecision and disaster. I've also had some first-hand experience with a large vocabulary being a liability in a relationship.
"In Summer" combines technical merit with mature insight, and was the strongest of the submissions. This poem deserves the win because it addresses the theme and transcends it, opening the door to hopefulness and personal fulfillment, not simply revenge. It's difficult to be funny in a poem without the punchline threatening to undermine the entire piece. This author snuggles a hilarious Starbucks reference in the middle of the poem, and manages to build a poem that's much, much bigger than the joke. Though this poem seems to have been inspired by an abusive relationship, the poet makes those details quite powerful through subtle means. "In Summer," effectively addresses what I believe to be the silver lining of break-ups: the opportunity to examine one's own desires and preferences irrespective of a partner. The speaker in this poem re-claims her sense of fashion and her sense of self, which I found incredibly gratifying.
"Indecision" maintained my interest because of its two-part structure and its reference to relationship foibles that made me think, I've been there. The scene with the menus and the perceived distance between the couple was interesting because the poet worked a metaphor to new advantage, I think, with the introduction of sushi. I always wonder at diners needing a sushi menu when they've been eating the stuff for years. For me, this hinted at indecision and disaster. I've also had some first-hand experience with a large vocabulary being a liability in a relationship.
"In Summer" combines technical merit with mature insight, and was the strongest of the submissions. This poem deserves the win because it addresses the theme and transcends it, opening the door to hopefulness and personal fulfillment, not simply revenge. It's difficult to be funny in a poem without the punchline threatening to undermine the entire piece. This author snuggles a hilarious Starbucks reference in the middle of the poem, and manages to build a poem that's much, much bigger than the joke. Though this poem seems to have been inspired by an abusive relationship, the poet makes those details quite powerful through subtle means. "In Summer," effectively addresses what I believe to be the silver lining of break-ups: the opportunity to examine one's own desires and preferences irrespective of a partner. The speaker in this poem re-claims her sense of fashion and her sense of self, which I found incredibly gratifying.
WINNER, February 2010: In Summer - Sarah S.
I am glad I am wearing my short skirt.
The really slutty one. The one that lived
balled up in back of the closet
as I slipped
into the dreary old lady costumes for which you praised me.
Even these, you found fault with
in our daily morning taunting ritual
in the bathroom. “Man, those pants
they fit you like a glove. Your shirt is so tight”
how you would sneer. All the khaki in the world
could not shield me from those hands.
Thick thighs bloom beneath
a twelve-inch patch of denim. I’m glad you can see them.
I am scurrying across Central
eating strawberry-habañero gelato.
Maria and I have just come
from paying for dessert, and flirting
with the man with the big teeth.
Me in my flip-flops, me in my short skirt, passing Starbucks.
I’ve said to Maria
that I cannot now pass here sans thoughts of us.
Maria advised I apply
for part-time employment
so to have worse memories of the place
than ones of you. And the man with the bicycle is you.
Not a ghost now, but you for real:
in the twilight, I am squinting to be sure.
Yes, you, and you are the one
who scooped up my kicking
screaming
170-pound self
and hurled it to the linoleum. You, who broke
My heart and my glasses.
You see me, and I
am wearing this short skirt. So I laugh. I bruise
so easily, but not today.
And then I flip my flops across the street to where Maria stands waiting.
Maybe you glance again. I hope you do
see that harlot you almost married
enjoying her freedom
under a darkening sky
in summer.
The really slutty one. The one that lived
balled up in back of the closet
as I slipped
into the dreary old lady costumes for which you praised me.
Even these, you found fault with
in our daily morning taunting ritual
in the bathroom. “Man, those pants
they fit you like a glove. Your shirt is so tight”
how you would sneer. All the khaki in the world
could not shield me from those hands.
Thick thighs bloom beneath
a twelve-inch patch of denim. I’m glad you can see them.
I am scurrying across Central
eating strawberry-habañero gelato.
Maria and I have just come
from paying for dessert, and flirting
with the man with the big teeth.
Me in my flip-flops, me in my short skirt, passing Starbucks.
I’ve said to Maria
that I cannot now pass here sans thoughts of us.
Maria advised I apply
for part-time employment
so to have worse memories of the place
than ones of you. And the man with the bicycle is you.
Not a ghost now, but you for real:
in the twilight, I am squinting to be sure.
Yes, you, and you are the one
who scooped up my kicking
screaming
170-pound self
and hurled it to the linoleum. You, who broke
My heart and my glasses.
You see me, and I
am wearing this short skirt. So I laugh. I bruise
so easily, but not today.
And then I flip my flops across the street to where Maria stands waiting.
Maybe you glance again. I hope you do
see that harlot you almost married
enjoying her freedom
under a darkening sky
in summer.
HONORABLE MENTION: Indecision - Allison C.
Part I
I look over the menu at him.
He’s looking down at it, deciding which rolls to get.
I inhale sharply to hide my hesitance and fear
of making him angry over the decision
between eel and tuna.
Eel.
Tuna.
The space between his menu and mine
should have been filled with laughter and analysis, wit and charm.
Instead, silence and indecision.
His unintentional tone cut through me,
not from its searing malice,
from its utter apathy.
He’s not in love with me.
“Let’s get the tuna,” he said.
Part II
He said he doesn't like the way I speak sometimes.
He said he doesn't like the words I use.
He said I use vocabulary to try and assert my intelligence, to prove something.
I didn't know how to respond.
I stared at him. With consternation.
I didn't say the word 'consternation' because he doesn't know what it means.
(An example of the caustic sarcasm that permeated our argument last night).
He couldn't follow the logical progression of my analysis of our relationship.
...analysis being some unnecessary scientific word…
As if emotions and insecurity can be expressed in such diagnostic terms.
However, the distance and detachment that I feel from myself
In the course of this relationship can be accurately conveyed in the clinical quality of the word
Analysis.
I see the end in sight.
In a few weeks, I'll tell him we need to stop seeing each other.
In a few weeks, the full severity of his words will sink in,
If they haven't already: he is not in love with me.
I look over the menu at him.
He’s looking down at it, deciding which rolls to get.
I inhale sharply to hide my hesitance and fear
of making him angry over the decision
between eel and tuna.
Eel.
Tuna.
The space between his menu and mine
should have been filled with laughter and analysis, wit and charm.
Instead, silence and indecision.
His unintentional tone cut through me,
not from its searing malice,
from its utter apathy.
He’s not in love with me.
“Let’s get the tuna,” he said.
Part II
He said he doesn't like the way I speak sometimes.
He said he doesn't like the words I use.
He said I use vocabulary to try and assert my intelligence, to prove something.
I didn't know how to respond.
I stared at him. With consternation.
I didn't say the word 'consternation' because he doesn't know what it means.
(An example of the caustic sarcasm that permeated our argument last night).
He couldn't follow the logical progression of my analysis of our relationship.
...analysis being some unnecessary scientific word…
As if emotions and insecurity can be expressed in such diagnostic terms.
However, the distance and detachment that I feel from myself
In the course of this relationship can be accurately conveyed in the clinical quality of the word
Analysis.
I see the end in sight.
In a few weeks, I'll tell him we need to stop seeing each other.
In a few weeks, the full severity of his words will sink in,
If they haven't already: he is not in love with me.
Dumped - Caroline Frank
Sometime around five they screeched to a stop,
And a charming young doll with blues eyes got on.
The group fell silent - in fact, they were stumped:
How did someone as handsome as him get dumped?
“She thought I was perfect when she stood in the aisle,
She held me tightly beneath her beautiful smile.
But then she took me home and we got down to living,
I guess she got bored or maybe Barbie said something.
Needless to say when this new guy showed up,
He moved in the mansion and I’m in the dump.”
“I understand what it’s like to feel cheated,
Because I gave that bastard all he ever needed.
He used me for everything! From his lunch to his car,
But like everything else he just took it too far.
And then he blamed me for the mistakes that he made -
He cut me to pieces and threw me away.”
“What happened to me was not nearly as violent,
He just moved on and for years left me silent.
And if there is one feeling I’ll never forget,
It’s the touch of his fingertips grazing my neck.
He blamed himself, said I’d done nothing wrong,
His mind was made up, but, we played one last song.”
“I hate to crash this pity party,
But when you’re all done feeling sorry,
I think that you should heed my warning:
This truck is headed for the quarry
So this guy can dump this dead girl’s body.”
“What are you saying?!”
“How can this happen?
“We’re all gonna drown! We have to stop him!”
“Are you really that crazy? What do you plan to do?
He felt no mercy for her, he feels nothing for you.”
“God dammit! Could this day get any worse?!
Is it not bad enough we were dumped by the curb?”
“Not when you can’t stop the one driving your hearse.”
And a charming young doll with blues eyes got on.
The group fell silent - in fact, they were stumped:
How did someone as handsome as him get dumped?
“She thought I was perfect when she stood in the aisle,
She held me tightly beneath her beautiful smile.
But then she took me home and we got down to living,
I guess she got bored or maybe Barbie said something.
Needless to say when this new guy showed up,
He moved in the mansion and I’m in the dump.”
“I understand what it’s like to feel cheated,
Because I gave that bastard all he ever needed.
He used me for everything! From his lunch to his car,
But like everything else he just took it too far.
And then he blamed me for the mistakes that he made -
He cut me to pieces and threw me away.”
“What happened to me was not nearly as violent,
He just moved on and for years left me silent.
And if there is one feeling I’ll never forget,
It’s the touch of his fingertips grazing my neck.
He blamed himself, said I’d done nothing wrong,
His mind was made up, but, we played one last song.”
“I hate to crash this pity party,
But when you’re all done feeling sorry,
I think that you should heed my warning:
This truck is headed for the quarry
So this guy can dump this dead girl’s body.”
“What are you saying?!”
“How can this happen?
“We’re all gonna drown! We have to stop him!”
“Are you really that crazy? What do you plan to do?
He felt no mercy for her, he feels nothing for you.”
“God dammit! Could this day get any worse?!
Is it not bad enough we were dumped by the curb?”
“Not when you can’t stop the one driving your hearse.”
Playing Games - Michael Pietrasz
Boom! Marissa sunk my Battleship
again and again and again
my heart fell, Scattergories
like a drunk playing Jenga
it was game night
no Chess or Checkers
only games with three people
Marissa invited him and me
a triangle of love
I played the puppy
while he was the racecar
A cop in theory
he called it law enforcement
trying to get a triple word score
yet I had no Clue
I just wanted to Go Go Go
while those two
were trying to Connect Four
what a game of Risk
waiting for the last Uno card
in the Battle of the Sexes
it Boggled my mind
how I made the same Sorry! mistake
over and over and over again
thinking I could somehow, Backgammon
I left their Candy Land
let them scream Yahtzee!
all night long
I was stuck
in my own Trivial Pursuits
but I guess that’s why it’s called
The Game of Life.
again and again and again
my heart fell, Scattergories
like a drunk playing Jenga
it was game night
no Chess or Checkers
only games with three people
Marissa invited him and me
a triangle of love
I played the puppy
while he was the racecar
A cop in theory
he called it law enforcement
trying to get a triple word score
yet I had no Clue
I just wanted to Go Go Go
while those two
were trying to Connect Four
what a game of Risk
waiting for the last Uno card
in the Battle of the Sexes
it Boggled my mind
how I made the same Sorry! mistake
over and over and over again
thinking I could somehow, Backgammon
I left their Candy Land
let them scream Yahtzee!
all night long
I was stuck
in my own Trivial Pursuits
but I guess that’s why it’s called
The Game of Life.
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