April Column

First appeared in The Evening Sun on Sunday, April 25, 2010

Poetry always brings people together in unexpected ways. When I began my tenure as Poet Laureate, I never thought I would make connections with people halfway around the world. So, when I received an email from Mark Anthony L. Daposala, from the Phillippines, telling me my Hanover Poet Laureate blog had reached an international audience, it shocked me. I never thought my blog would reach an audience beyond Hanover, PA, nonetheless beyond the United States and the Western Hemisphere!

After a brief correspondence with Daposala, he entered my poetry contest. After much deliberation, we have chosen his poem, “Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose,” as the winner in the adult category.

Daposala is a young writer, beginning his career as a burgeoning poet. He is from Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines. After graduating with a Bachelor's Degree in English Language and Literature Studies from Xavier University, he now works as a Web Content Writer. Of poetry and its importance, Daposala writes, “To entangle the cluttering strings of language, and somehow weave a shape out of it is enough to make [me] smile for the day.”

When he sent me his poems, he included the following note: “Paraphrasing from Dickinson, I hope these three poems are alive.” To me, his work certainly comes “alive” on the page. Even more so, his poetry lives with an urgency rooted in the real. I admire his instinct, as a writer, to keep his content concise. He uses a few specific details and does not add filler information to make the scene easier to digest or prettier than the reality. Instead, he chooses the right words to paint something realistic, and thus, more powerful. Here is his winning poem, “Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose.”


Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose


All I thought of that night
was how we ended up
in that jam-packed bolgia.
Still your heart lingered
at the sound of cymbals
crashing
like beer bottles
shattering
on concrete.

You sat
observing the scene
behind your horn-rimmed glasses
as the guitar’s distorted notes
flew like flies dissipated
in the tobacco fog
fuming from the mouths of fiends
in vintage shirts and tattered jeans
bought fresh from the Ukay-Ukay .
They raised their pitchfork fingers
in the name of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.

You were barely 16
sipping your can of coke with a straw.
and exclaimed your view of anarchy,
“Can you see it now?
Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose.”

I fell silent.

All I saw was you.



Ukay-Ukay / ʊkaɪ ʊkaɪ/: a.) literally means “To Dig.”

b.) The word also refers to the contemporary stores in the Philippines that sell bulks of secondhand goods like clothing. They are also sold in cheap and negotiable prices, making it popular to the frugal masses of the Philippines.




In his biography, Daposala included: “I’m an advocate of Carpe Diem.” I think this poem illustrates that mindset well. I read the poem as a nod to heightened awareness and consciousness. Isn’t that the point of seizing the day, being suddenly aware of everything happening around you and making something of it?

The poem opens with “chaos.” The speaker finds himself in the middle of people, music, and violence, implied by his metaphor: “cymbals / crashing / like beer bottles / shattering / on concrete.” After he sets up the scene, he goes on to describe the people there with his best demonic imagery. My point is that when someone finds himself in the middle of chaos, it usually looks and sounds more like a blur. How often does chaos involve precise imagery, the recollection that “the guitar’s distorted notes / flew like flies dissipated / in the tobacco fog”? These specific images and remembrances bring me back to the idea of carpe diem, of heightened awareness. Though the speaker faces this moment of chaos, he remains conscious of every detail around him.

On top of this, how often does chaos involve a moment of epiphany? Yes, sometimes it happens afterwards, but not usually right in the midst of it. In the middle of this crazy moment, his friend explains a personal view on “anarchy”: “‘Can you see it now? / Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose.’” These lines bring the reader back, once again, to that idea of vision, of seeing, of consciousness. Can the speaker “see” this single symbol of beauty rising out of the riotous atmosphere?

In the final two lines of the poem, after being asked this question, the speaker has his epiphany. He begins, “I fell silent.” I read this as epiphany because all of a sudden the poem becomes still, silent for the first time. We experience a quiet moment with just the speaker, and this change in volume signals a change in awareness to me.

Next, the poem ends with, “All I saw was you.” Though some may read the “you” immediately as a love interest, in my reading of the poem, “you” becomes more than that. “You” transcends the person who introduced the speaker to the new idea, and becomes the idea itself. “You” is a change in awareness, a new vision of the world. Though the reader is not privy to the specifics, he or she can still glean the main point: epiphanies come in unexpected times and unexpected places if you live consciously. So, seize the day!

Dana Larkin Sauers' Book Release at Gunnar Gallery

Dana Larkin Sauers' Book Release at Ragged Edge

Dana Larkin Sauers recently released her book, My Letter to the World. Her release reading/party took place at Ragged Edge in Gettysburg.

Melissa Carl Reads at Zu Coffee

Local poet, Melissa Carl, reads at Zu Coffee. Melissa is one of my favorite contemporary poets!

Katy Giebenhain Reads at Reader's Cafe

Katy Giebenhain, a local poet, reads her work at Reader's Cafe in Hanover. Below is one of her poems.

The Commuter

At the police station
the officer nods, types with two fingers,
offers me a cigarette.
He blows smoke from the side of his mouth,
which has said before, and before

and before that

describe what happened next.

The chair, desk, swinging door

are entirely TV-cop-show,
as are the telephone list in its plastic sleeve,

the Tupperware lid in the in-tray,
my purse between us, gutted.

27 hours in the same clothes,

with unbrushed teeth and raccoon eyes,

robbed after an agency all-nighter,

I can sure as hell describe

what happens next.

There’s another client, project, work day,

pay check, missed train, decade.

I will leave the officer, shoulder my way

onto the crowded train.

White collar miner.

Bodies were not meant for this either.

What should happen next?

What doesn’t happen next?

(This poem first appeared in BOOMSLANG POETRY MAGAZINE.)

Contest Winners: Elementary Category

1st prize: Valerie Hicks

Losing My Head

I lost my cap
I lost my mom
I lost my map
And my brother, Tom

I can’t find my book
I can’t find my pen
I can’t find my hook
I can’t find my hen


I can’t find my trash
I can’t find Sam
I can’t find my cash
I can’t find my ham

I can’t find my marker
And I lost my hat
But, I’m really smarter
My mother said that!


Biography: I am 8 years old
I am a student at Hanover Street Elementary School.
I am new to poetry.




2nd prize: Jayson McCamant

The Dream


I had my dream
I lost my theme
I lost my junk
I lost my funk

My sister’s five
I have a chive
A beehive fell
On number five

I play tough
And my brother’s rough
When he eats pie
I say, “You’ll die!”

I lost a few
Good Mountain Dews
I made a tie
And I could not fly


Biography: Age 8, Grade 2
Teacher, Mrs. Connie Speck
Hanover Street Elementary School



3rd prize: Jesse Israilian

FROG FOG


There was a frog
That didn’t jog
Because of fog

One day he went
To find a log
In a small bog

Then came a dog
Then a big hog
Then came some fog

Finally the frog
He found a log
And scared the hog

Then scared the dog
And was no longer
Afraid of fog


4th prize: Jessica Morales

I’m a Mess


My name’s a mess
But at least
It’s not a chest

When I need to clean
I use a machine
And I just lean

I can’t find my cap
And I can’t find my snap
So I just tap

I can’t find my
pink in ink
with the little sink

If I don’t have a pig
I won’t wear a wig
Or do anything big

I always take
My extra cash
And put it in the trash

I keep my power
In the tower
Away from the flower


Biography: Age 8, Grade 2
Teacher, Mrs. Connie Speck
Hanover Street Elementary School

Contest Winners: High School Category

1st place: Joshua Cartwright

Hufnagle Park


The name was innocuous enough---Hufnagle Park
Like a Saturday morning children’s program
It was apt for a while; families would picnic together
Sun bounced off the steel beams, as if to invite climbing
And climb we would---until mom called for dinner
Perfect. Magic. Youth. But Time---

Time will always convict the innocent.
I visited Hufnagle Park today
Yes, children were still playing
Now amidst bands of refuse
The slapdash quagmire of a flooded creek
And needles

Doctors always assert
“No child can love a needle”
I’m not so sure anymore
I swear I saw the real-life Raggedy Ann
Shooting up behind the monkey bars

And those beams---they weren’t glowing today
At Hufnagle Park.





2nd place: Garin Greenholt

The Bus Stop

Shivering, my legs shook uneasy

While the Wind Whirled

To the East, the Sun slowly Rose

And so did the World

People came from every which way

Filling the seats beside me

No, no I was not alone that morning

The Cold Cracked Bench was not empty

The only noise I could hear

Was the Shrill of that Shaking Stop Sign

And the only feelings I felt

Were locked in my mind

I see these people everyday

And every morning it’s the same

The Newspapers Shake, and the Coffee Spills,

But no one knows my Name

It’s a Normal thing, this Bench and I

We’re a reoccurring thing that just happens…

The Faces may change, but it doesn’t Matter

I’m still Here, and I’m still Laughing

3rd place: Madison Hoff

Handshake


An endless, pointless rage against all-
a dirt infested,
artillery congested
excuse for money and rule.

With tedious hours and countless days-
mindless plugs,
meaningless hugs
set on repeat for all to watch.

Where light never shines until silence mocks-
bashing cries,
determined lies
between all borders of truth.

The Handshake at the end means Nothing.





Biographies:

Joshua Cartwright: I was born in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania and moved to Hanover when I was nine years old. I've always enjoyed athletics, especially golf and tennis. Writing didn't become a passion of mine until my sophomore year of high school, but I have been hooked ever since. Other interests I've developed are acting, films in general, and politics. I live with my mother, who is also passionate about writing, and my younger sister Rebekah. In the future, I hope to pursue a career writing screenplays.

Garin Greenholt: I am a senior at Hanover High school. I play drums and sing in a band called Psychedelic Bathtub. I have participated in track and field for four years. I love to read and write, for my senior project I wrote a short story, about 60 pages in length. I am a very funny person from what I am told, and I like to have a lot of fun.

Madison Hoff: I'm from Hanover, Pennsylvania, and I attend Hanover High School. Ever since I was four, my family has been racing pigeons (it's a sport), unknown by many but is interesting to have grown up with it. I've played the violin for the high school and I play the guitar (not well, might I add). I'm interested in subjects such as English, French, History, Music and certain sciences like Environmental. I play softball for the high school and have been playing the sport for the past six years. I plan to attend a four year college next year where I'm considering majoring in Anthropology.

Contest Winners: Adult Category

Adult Category

1st prize: Mark Daposala

Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose


All I thought of that night
was how we ended up
in that jam-packed bolgia.
Still your heart lingered
at the sound of cymbals
crashing
like beer bottles
shattering
on concrete.

You sat
observing the scene
behind your horn-rimmed glasses
as the guitar’s distorted notes
flew like flies dissipated
in the tobacco fog
fuming from the mouths of fiends
in vintage shirts and tattered jeans
bought fresh from the Ukay-Ukay .
They raised their pitchfork fingers
in the name of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll.

You were barely 16
sipping your can of coke with a straw.
and exclaimed your view of anarchy,
“Can you see it now?
Amidst the chaos sprouts a rose.”

I fell silent.

All I saw was you.




2nd prize: Melissa Carl

The Moment


I was all eyes and ponytails
when I asked my mother
why I could not have
the dusty teddy bear
on her dresser
and learned
I had almost had
a brother to go with it.





3rd prize: Regina M. Klunk

Love Sonnet : I

Shall I compare our love to waterfalls

Like our love, the water is bold yet soft

The calm sound is a mesmerizing call

A feel of serenity is shown off

The water flows through the cracks and roughness

And accepts the guidance to find the way

Through journeys, it shares grace and gentleness

It becomes stronger and vibrant each day

Deep within, it’s so delicate and true

Every aspect is unique and graceful

Joyful, as the waters are divine blue

Feelings bring out the beauty of a soul

Minutes feel forever, even a few

Day by day, I pray, just to be with you

Biographies:

Mark Anthony Daposala: I’m Mark Anthony Daposala from Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines. I’m the youngest of five. I got my Bachelor's Degree in English Language and Literature Studies at Xavier University. I'm currently employed as a Web Content Writer. My goals are to work abroad so I can provide myself a stable life as well as my family in times of financial crisis. I also want to advance further in the craft of writing. Aside from that, I’m an advocate of Carpe Diem. My dreams are composed of the following: Writer, Visual artist, Businessman, Musician, Model, Trainer, Photographer and meeting my muse (wherever and whoever she is).

Melissa Carl: MELISSA CARL has been writing poetry for over fifteen years. She has published in various regional and national publications—both print and online---including the Fledgling Rag, the Hanover Evening Sun, the York Daily Record, Melusine, Amoskeag, The Journal of Southern New Hampshire University, Off the Coast Magazine. Her poems have won numerous awards, including two Pushcart nominations, three first place awards in the YorkArts WritersEye competition, the York Emporium anthology competition, Yesterday, I Will, and two Top Five Poem awards in the Writer’s Digest National Poetry Month Challenge. She teaches Honors World Cultures and Advanced Placement European history at the West York Area High School, where she also runs the gifted program.

Regina Klunk: I've been writing poems since I was in middle school. Of course I wrote about typical teenage stuff. I stopped for a little and then started up again in high school. But it didn't really hit me to right more mature poems, until my senior year. We learned a lot about Elizabethan sonnets, which is what my poems are now structured upon. It took me awhile to figure out what I wanted to write about. Finally , I came across this contest for a magazine located in Colorado. Shortly , after entering it for poetry and photography, I found out that this contest was worldwide. It kinda made me scared at first, but gave me more confidence in my writing, challenging myself to think bolder and open up my imagination. I have a poem that was in The Anthology of Poems by Young Americans, that was published when I was thirteen. I currently am finishing my last week of school at the Baltimore School of Massage-York Campus. A couple of weeks ago I composed a new sonnet based off of the touch of bodyworkers. My campus director was very delighted as well as my fellow classmates to see such appreciation for what we do.

Hanover High School Features Me on Website