April is Poetry Month

Poetry month is a big deal in Rockland.  Some of the happenings around town have included local businesses posting poems in their store windows, local inns and hotels putting a poem on the pillow of the bed in their rooms, screening of "Louder Than a Bomb," a documentary about Chicago high school students competing in a poetry slam, and lots of readings by poets from around the state.

And... the Rockland Public Library held a poetry contest.  The theme was "landscapes".  There were 3 categories:  children, teens and adult.  I decided to enter the adult category and sent in a poem just a day or two before the deadline.  And, lo and behold, about a week ago they called and told me I had placed 2nd in the "adult" category.

So last night, I screwed up my courage, and with David's support, I went down and joined in what the library calls a "Poetry Swarm."  All the winners - about 5-6 kids in the children's category, 4 or 5 in the teen category, and 4 in the adult category -  were invited to - and most did - participate by reading the poem they had entered.  Plus - there were 3 other groups of readers, all local poets from the general area of Midcoast Maine, including the current and former Poet Laurette of Rockland (who knew?) and of Belfast.

Most of the poems were good, some were funny, and a few were very good.  I received nice compliments on my poem.  The best was from a man, one of the non-contestant readers, who came up to me after I read the poem and told me how much he really enjoyed it, and he mentioned to me that he was one of the contest judges.

So at the risk of ... well, not sure what ... but I'm going to post the poem I submitted here.  The poem:
.

      Subjunctive Mood

If it were not so early I would get out of bed and
I'd go down to the salt marsh for the day.

First I'd walk the chalky path that winds
between tall rows of spiked Spartina.

Next I'd amble on to where the heron stands
in slowly swirling water, stalking breakfast in the bay.

I might delay, stay to see long lovely limbs untangle,
dangle down beneath him in his leap from sea to sky.

Then I'd ramble on and on, pausing only long enough
to watch light wrung from day like juice from fruit,

to leave behind a slice of moon and stars like seeds
to shine beneath the milky membrane of pale clouds.

If I lingered yet then I might hear the turning tide's sigh
as it rose to ride the sea breeze on cicadas' wings.

Yes, I am sure if it had not been quite so early
I'd have spent the whole day in the salt marsh by the sea.


* * * * *

Peace.