Do you live in Vermont and like to write poems? You're invited to submit your original poems for publication in PoemCity 2015, a
city-wide event in Montpelier, Vermont, now in its sixth year.
PoemCity publishes and displays Vermont poetry on local business storefronts
as a way to celebrate National Poetry Month. Chosen poems will appear
throughout the downtown district of Montpelier for the month of April 2015.
“Poetry has an important place in the
lives of Vermonters,” said Kellogg-Hubbard Library Program and Development
Coordinator Rachel Senechal.
collaborates with many organizations, schools, and individuals, to read, hear,
write, and discuss poetry, the language of the soul. With the many poems displayed in
our downtown windows, it is our goal to make poetry accessible to our community,
and to inspire new readers and writers of poetry,” she said.
Along with displayed poems, PoemCity will also offer poetry
workshops, public readings, panel discussions, and visual poetry and art
displays throughout downtown. The month-long schedule of events and programming
is free and open to the public.
Poets of all ages are welcome to submit
up to three poems no longer than 24 lines each for consideration of public
display. Each poem should be original work by the author, who must be a Vermont
resident or student. Deadline to submit is January 31, 2015.
ABOUT KELLOGG-HUBBARD LIBRARY The Kellogg-Hubbard
Library is a public library that is the focal point for cultural,
educational, and intellectual life in Central Vermont. It serves as a
resource to encourage lifelong learning, acts as a
catalyst for the free exchange of ideas, and promotes literacy for
members of all ages. Learn more at http://www.kellogghubbard.org.
“The villanelle is one of the most fascinating and paradoxical of
poetic forms, quirky and edgy…prone to moods of obsession and delight;
structured through the marriage of repetition and surprise… No wonder it
is currently enjoying such a powerful, post-modernist blossoming,”
from Villanelles: Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets.
We’ll read aloud
examples by poets such as Sherman Alexie and Sylvia Plath to get
inspired; then we’ll get busy creating our own villanelles. All levels
and ages of writers are welcome.
Hayes Room, Kellogg-Hubbard Library, 135 Main Street | 10 AM
I wish I had sunglasses
on these short
I see Meg's dark eyes
much worse, the sun shines
and her smile still sparkles.
Looking up is fruitless.
The wind makes the leaves dance
and I wish they wouldn't
distract me so.
Stark shadow on the ground
is me getting out of my own way.
The bark eye of the tree
is underneath all things.
I smell asphalt on the wind.
I wish I didn't smell asphalt
but I wish I could smell wind.
Vibrant colors too clean and
bright and if we go down the stairs I'll fall or not write as much.
The poet's obstacle course
can't make me jump the hoops
of all time.
Smelling green grass that grows fake
seeing gold chairs that feel hollow
why is it man-made life and
nature can both be so beautiful?
The newness mixed with the old
means nothing ever really dies.
It just changes shape.
Like this path that changes
from cement to dirt back to
cement again. Which one is the
true path? The way for poets?
I crashed my snowboard on this--
if I could wander down stairs,
across fields, in the sun toward a
glowing mountain of autumn leaves
forever, then I'd always know
I am alive. This heat gives life. This
bright green grass beneath my feet
that sparkles here and there with
leftover dew, tethers me to the ground.
Without ground, I'd float off
into an abstract sky.
Why call this fall when all we do is
stay? Stay here on the earth with
its crunchy leaves underfoot. Stay here
on an endless train track, forever
in both directions.
Moving into nature say hello.Question.
Why this dirt?
Why that pile of hay?
Why that dead birch right there off
the path? Why do we veer off the path?
Listen! There's a sewer and underneath
a river flowing, I can hear it
shushing and lulling like a waterfall.
The crow caws, the sun makes me
glint and it hurts my eyes.
I run to catch up.
A gun shot far off in the hills.
I take a deep breath
a thousand breaths to make
this afternoon last forever.
Grab a hold of that light bulb
one flash and it's over.