PPS Poets

Current Events-2008

• There are two wonderful opportunities to hear great poets in person. Open Microphones, at the Clearbrook Library from 6:30 to 8:30 PM, (next one is Tuesday Novemver 25/08)
  and the final Blue Moon Reading Series for the year is Thursday, November 13/08 with the poet and artist Eva Waldauf and poet/activist Heidi Greco . This event is supported by The Canadian Council for the Arts and the League of Canadian Poets.
  
  There's been a last minute change in the November 13/08 Blue Moon Reading! Due to family issues Heidi Greco will be unable to read for us. We wish her well during this time...she was considerate enough to find us a substitute: Marion Quednau.
  
  We are fortunate to have the local writer and poet Marion Quednau appearing in Heidi's palce and Marion has promised to be very entertaining. How could she not! Her work was short-listed for the ARC Poetry Competition in 2007, and she recently won fourth place in the "Slam in the Valley" competition for her poem, "Topless, and Not Amazing." Her long poem, "Freshet," was a finalist in last year's CBC Literary Competition, and a chapbook, entitled "Kissing: Selected Chronicles," won The League of Canadian Poets National Award in 1999. She is also a writer of fiction: her first novel, "The Butterfly Chair," (Random House, 1987) won the Smithbooks-Books in Canada Award. A second novel, "Broken Entries," will be published by Thomas Allen in 2009. Last spring, Annick Press brought out her first fiction for children, "The Gift of Odin." Clearly, Marion is a relentless writer and can't help herself, for which the rest of us are grateful! Our eternal thanks to her for being able to step in at the last minute like this!
  
  ...more details
  The MSA PPS held a Poetry Contest... contest details
  
  And the winners of RIVER OF WORDS POETRY CONTEST are (drum roll please!)
  
  Adult Contestants:
  
  1st Place Denise Kors - “A Lover’s Heart
  2nd Place Dennis Burfoot -“Centipede”
  3rd Place Marilyn Edwards- “Swimming Lessons”
  
  1st Place - Denise Kors
  
  A Lover's Heart
  
  Hidden in the earth and rock, the air and ice and snow
  Subtle hues as tones to song, a music coloured glow
  In sunsets red and ivory peaks and purple dusky shades
  In golden leaves and mossy green amid white lace cascades.
  
  Hidden in these treasures are the messages we know
  They speak to us in whispers still we hear the constant flow
  As if they were a part of us and we a part of them
  As they display our lone reflections, blossoms on a stem.
  
  Hidden yet so clear in every day's sweet rhythmic ache
  Reaching us in every moment, there for us to take
  Yet blind we grope and stumble lost amidst the luscious splendor
  And search for what is everywhere, in strength its kindness tender.
  
  I'll search no more and sit in peace and hear the sacred songs
  And know the love within my heart within this world belongs
  For who can catch the subtle tune but one who knows the art
  In bringing all to focus through a joyful lover's heart.
  
  

  Copyright ©Denise Kors .  Used with permission

  2nd Place – Dennis Burfoot
  
  CENTIPEDE
  
  This worm they call the Centipede, was crawling on a car.
  The distance that it traveled for a worm was not too far,
  
  But how the wind was blowing it scarce could navigate
  And from the back and to the front it's course was laid out straight.
  
  His fifty legs on either side he raised with utmost care,
  And set his toes to grip and hold so as not to blow off there
  
  And while he valiantly did try to go from aft to fore
  The car was going down the road at fifty miles or more
  
  Little did the creature know how swiftly he did fly
  It was for him to crawl along and not to wonder why.
  
  The man that held the steering wheel and made the car to go,
  Thought he was just going for a ride and little did he know.
  
  While the country side he knew beneath his wheels rolled by
  Twenty times the speed he drove above him moved the sky.
  
  And while he thought he traveled west the opposite was true,
  For with the turning of the earth it was backwards that he flew.
  
  And yet there was a greater speed with nothing to compare,
  The earth in orbit 'round the sun , a year from here to there.
  
  So crawl on little centipede and relate to what you see,
  Leave Einstein then to theorize on relativity.
  
  

  Copyright © Dennis Burfoot.  Used with permission

  3rd Place – Marilyn Edwards
  
  Swimming Lessons
  
  One summer Babe Miller
  came to Clear Lake
  to teach us a lesson
  on learning to swim.
  She was tanned and trim with sun-
  burned skin stretched
  like leather over steel.
  Her voice rattled
  beer cans on the pier
  when she came near
  chain-smoking all the while
  with nails hard-red
  and lip gloss spread
  on her smile.
  She was toting some years,
  but she'd still send fear
  up a floating spine
  when we'd whine
  about algae clumps
  or tadpole lumps
  that invaded our space.
  Behind her dark shades,
  her wide eyes surveyed each arm stroke
  and glide as we swam astride
  the blue bowl water.
  (I'd have flutter-kick-crawled
  a tsunami wall to please her!).
  But with bleached hair a-glare,
  she'd just stare at my up-hill will
  while she towel-dried taut thighs
  and watched the guys high dive
  as I burned by on that Clear Lake sky.
  
  

  Copyright © Marilyn Edwards.  Used with permission

  Youth Contestants:
  
  1st Place Danielle Wingfield -“Love”
  2nd Place Lauren Koch - “Untitled”
  3rd Place Karina Bergen -“A Soldier Is….”
  
  1st Place – Danielle Wingfield
  
  LOVE
  
  Love twists you like a pretzel
  And guides you through the night
  Fills you up with empty
  Crushes you like a kite
  
  Faithful
  Shows a bond between
  Like a bird to the wind
  A thread to a seam
  
  Truthful
  Shows a lie hid deep down in side
  Makes you feel exposed
  like a lasting budded rose
  
  Regret
  Is all the things you've done
  Filling you with sadness
  For each and everyone
  
  

  Copyright © Danielle Wingfield.   Used with permission

  2nd Place – Lauren Koch
  
  untitled
  
  when did you see it
  when did you know it
  when did you love that flower
  it bloomed in the summer
  it died in the winter
  you cried for the flower day by day
  by the sun and the moon it bloomed once more
  
  

  Copyright © Lauren Koch.   Used with permission

  3rd Place - Karlna Bergen
  
  A Soldier Is...
  
  A Soldier is a normal person,
  loved one, son, daughter, sister, brother
  a soldier is a person,
  with a father and a mother
  A soldier's life is filled with fear and sorrow,
  Not knowing if they will see the dawn and dusk of tomorrow
  hearing nothing but the guns and smelling the gun powder
  as the guns get louder and louder.
  They scream out beginning the fight for peace.
  Hiding in the creases in the land hoping for the fighting
  to cease
  Seeing their friends
  F
  A
  L
  L
  I
  N
  G
  to the dirt with a thud.
  Hoping you will find a bud that will stay with you more
  than a mere hour.
  Feeling dumb to cower back to the gun tower where you
  can be safe.
  
  

  Copyright © Karlna Bergen.   Used with permission

  Honorable Mentions:
  
  Denise Kors - “Valley Fall”
  Marilyn Edwards - “Abused”
  Carolann Vestergaard -“My House”
  Dee Taylor - “Dinning Out”
  Christine Lamb - “Bones”
  Gwynne Hunt - “Cicatrice, The Final Scar”
  
  Honorable Mention – Denise Kors
  
  Valley Fall
  
  Eagle tree that cradled babes
  Still holds the nest on high
  Forsakes the lake and holds the shore
  Behind them as they fly
  This aspen green when in the spring
  Now leaves in yellow fall
  Long summer days give way to night,
  Sun's rays to winter squall
  Dampened spruce in drizzled rain
  Now shows the only green
  And snowy dust on hills around
  Creeps down each night unseen
  Each falling leaf reveals a bud
  Each snowflake holds the rain
  And geese and swans now float in ponds
  That once held seas of grain
  The harvest spent, the cold creeps in
  So starts a new decay
  Mourn not the end of summer’s past
  For rest must have its day
  Enjoy the world without lush growth
  All naked once again
  This simpler world that lies within
  A cycle without end.
  
  

  Copyright © Denise Kors.  Used with permission

  Honorable Mention – Marilyn Edwards
  
  Abused
  
  There's a veil on her eyes that refracts light
  and bends her sight like a stick in water.
  
  There's a lie in her ears that promotes fear and harries her
  like voodoo promises.
  
  There are stones in her mouth to fetter choice
  and mute her voice like vows of silence.
  
  There are seeds in her womb planted by hate,
  waiting to detonate like mine-field fodder.
  
  But when strongholds fall and the pattern breaks,
  she will awake like stone-thrown water.
  
  

  Copyright © Marilyn Edwards.  Used with permission

  Honorable Mention – Carolann Vestergaard
  
  MY HOUSE
  
  I passed by my house
  The other day
  Where I use to live and play
  It was torn down
  And in a heap
  Cast aside, looking cheap
  
  This grand old house
  Stood tall and straight
  Saw crowds of people
  Come through its gates
  Windows open to the sky
  Curtains beckoning come inside
  
  The house was warm
  With old world charm
  Lots of parties
  Dancing till dawn
  
  Fire bright burned all night long
  Fun filled picnics on the lawn
  Cool lush grass beneath our feet
  As we ran breathless to the beach
  
  But now the wood lay in a heap
  That once stood tall
  Upon that street
  
  Progress has to have its say
  That grand old house was in its way
  And now it's gone and all that's left
  Are memories that will be kept.
  
  

  Copyright © Carolann Vestergaard.  Used with permission

  Honorable Mention- Dee Taylor
  
  DINING OUT
  
  From my twenty-ninth floor balcony
  I see a lower roof, tiled with gray feathers.
  
  A cloud of pigeons
  rises like steam from a lifted lid of a soup pot swirling
  frantic landing
  rising again
  
  I see the chiseled silhouette of a hawk.
  a sharp contrast to the pigeons.
  Puffy...plump...doughy pigeons.
  
  I watch the feathery storm cloud,
  knowing soon one less pigeon
  will blanket the roof
  like an eiderdown duvet.
  
  There will be squab for breakfast.
  
  

  Copyright © Dee Taylor.  Used with permission

  Honorable Mention -Christine H. Lamb
  
  Bones
  
  Bones.
  I never thought too much about them when I was young.
  They were there, doing what they were supposed to do.
  Didn't let me down
  Running, walking, dancing, loving,
  stirring, sweeping, washing, weeding.
  
  Supple when I had my babies.
  Sound, straight, strong
  tackling all the chores of daily living.
  
  When did they start to slacken?
  a kind of creeping incapacity?
  Bones.
  Funny now how they are
  calcifying, creaking, crumbling, grating, groaning, grumbling.
  Bones
  not what they used to be.
  

  Copyright © Christine H. Lamb.  Used with permission

  Honorable Mention – Gwynne Hunt
  
  Cicatrice, the final scar
  
  A jagged
  White streak,
  The wound
  After the scar has healed,
  Soft and afraid
  Of the sun,
  It feels raw
  Vulnerable
  But it is the state
  Of nobility
  The warrior
  Standing over the
  Fallen soldier...
  The butterfly
  Shed of
  It's cocoon,
  It's somewhat like
  Going out
  Naked and ashamed,
  Sorry to be so
  Exposed
  Yet excited
  To be alive
  And new,
  I need to cover the scar
  With comfort clothes
  Big, baggy and warm
  I need to run vitamin e
  On the skin
  To heal
  Erase
  To forget
  But first I need
  A band-aid
  With a happy face
  Like a child
  On a scary
  
  

  Copyright © Gwynne Hunt.  Used with permission

  The MSA PPS would like to thank all the talented writers that submitted poems to our first contest. We appreciate your sharing your work with us. Congatulations to the winners and honorable mentions. We will be putting the poetry online soon for the world (or at least the Fraser Valley) to see.
  
  
• PPS founder Donna Bishop has recently released Fritzy II: Achieving Moments of a Dyslexic
  Fritzy II follows Fritzy I and details Donna's struggle as a preadolescent and early teen to overcome her reading disability. This can be read separately from Fritzy I and will be available for sale at PPS events or at Charisma Gallery in Abbotsford.




Poetry Anthology - Poetic Spirits of the Valley



For twenty-five years MSAPPS (Matsqui-Sumas-Abbotsford Poets Potpourri Society) has been an actor on the Fraser Valley literary and cultural stage.

It has provided a venue to local writers, largely poets, to give birth and voice to their best thoughts. Collected in this little volume are the history and poetic thoughts of the members of MSA PPS and its friends...more info

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