editoradmin
When the Mid-Michigan Chapter of the National Society of Arts and Letters sponsored a poetry competition, there was a public reading of the winning entries, but no plans to preserve the poems in printed form. The cure seemed obvious; the organizers agreed; and the final product is in your hands.
Founded in 1944, the National Society of Arts and Letters is a nonprofit organization of men and women who are or who have been professionally engaged in the visual or performing arts, or who have sponsored or are actively sponsoring the work of young artists. The object of the Society is to encourage, assist and sponsor talented young people at the beginning of their artistic careers. Each chapter conducts an annual competition in a specific category of art, dance, drama, literature or music.
The National Amateur Press Association was founded in Philadelphia during the Centennial celebration of 1876 by a group of young men who printed and published their journals for the sheer joy of doing so. Deeply rooted in the art of letterpress printing, the Association’s members are now enjoying their 125th year of editing, printing, publishing, writing, and drawing their journals. The technologies used now may be computers and laser printers or mimeograph or handset type in a 100 year old printing press. Each journal is the unique expression of that member’s taste and abilities.
The Paper Airplane Press was founded in 1976 as my private hobby press and is named for another hobby, collecting books on the subject of paper airplanes. In 1977, I became a member of the National Amateur Press Association and I have distributed a number of publications through their Mailing Bureau.
Lake Effect was inspired by the writing efforts of my children and their circles of friends. For the first two issues, May 1999 and August 2000, about 300 copies were distributed to the authors and members of NAPA. This third issue expands on that beginning, by adding an association with NSAL and the winners of the 2000 Poetry Competition.
These young writers have something important to say to us all. Please read, enjoy, and share these wonderful poems.
Duran
by Anna Grace Flegler
Whose hands have touched these railings,
And soothed their mahogany boards
Who else has smelled this musty smell
Who else has smelled this new
What carpenter pounded the nails in this ceiling
Laboriously, precariously, one at a time
Whose eyes have seen these clouded windows
Shed light on the tile three stories below
Whose ears have heard the constant humming
And echo of well-made shoes
Laughter not often pounding on lethargic walls
But instead stifled chuckles, mumbled orders
Who says I’m not as worthy
As those who have experienced
This wonderful scene before me
Haiku
by Nitya Taber
The wind averts me
Like love, always far away
Love too far to grasp
The pale mist falls
Revealing the sun’s life rays
Replenishing my life
My concentration
Broken every day like glass
Being brushed away
A cushion waiting
To protect me from falling
Away from my life
In my dreams (Eric)
by Jenna Marie Winter
In my dreams, I saw my brother walk.
He chased me around the house,
His cerebral palsy gone.
He talked to me about the things we missed
Over the years
It was nice to hear his voice,
His real voice,
For the first time,
And we conversed til midnight,
He yawned and told me to take him outside,
Down to the pond.
We caught frogs by flashlight,
But they wiggled out of his small, inexperienced hands
He giggled with delight,
Told me that he liked the way they felt.
I gave him a ride back up to the house,
His sleepy head bobbing up and down
On my shoulder
I slipped him into bed,
Covered his brand new body,
His brand new strength.
As I looked down at him,
He opened his eyes,
And he smiled at me.
I smiled back tears,
That threatened to fall as,
Unbroken,
He told me that he loved me.
World War
by Kendra Slayton
One heart will feel sorrow tonight
As the smoke covers the battlefield
And the young girl’s love does not come home
As one man falls at the mercy of the bullet
One heart will feel sorrow tonight
As his brother falls from the gentle stars to the blazing fire
And he is left to stand alone in the deafening roar of reports
In a dirty uniform
As one man falls at the mercy of the bullet
One heart will feel sorrow tonight
As a son’s stained letter does not come
And a mother feels her son’s soul fall into the darkness
Of death
As one man falls at the mercy of the bullet
One heart will feel sorrow tonight
As the white-clad nurse wipes away her tears
With an Italian tissue
And her patients all slip away to an endless sleep
As one man falls at the mercy of the bullet
The many nations’ hearts will feel sorrow tonight.
As they discover what the real battle is like
And all that’s left is gunpowder and smoke
And young men’s souls that will never
Go dancing again
Maiden/Mother/Crone
by Abigail Koelewyn
The heart pulse of the earth,
Like the simple beat of an amazon’s drum
Arrow flies through the air,
Finds its target.
Crone,
Old lady,
Surrounded by the blackness of the new moon.
Black cat perched on her shoulder.
Stares as you walk past.
Mother,
Babe in her arms,
Warm blanket where it sleeps.
Song of fire,
Lullaby sweetly singing dreams of faeries dancing,
Spreading translucent, milky white wings.
Maiden,
In the forest.
Wild flowers for black hair.
Smells of sweet honeydew.
Watching a deer in the moon light.
Life
by Michael Murray
Life can take you so many twists and turns
Some days we want to run and jump and play
Some days we would rather just stay in bed
Maybe you win the lottery
Then you go bankrupt
Maybe you get some free food
Then you get food poisoning
Some days you’re riding high and smooth
Above the world
Then you hit rock bottom
And jolt around
Until you eventually
Get on top again
Then, down you go
Life is like springtime
Sometimes the sun is shining bright and heavenly
Other times it rains like the second Noah’s Ark.
Sometimes
It’s dry and groggy
Other times it’s wet and soggy
Life is everything rolled up into one
Fear, hate, laughter, crying
New life, death, sunny days, rainy nights
Jolting roads, twists, and turns
Sometimes life is scary
Sometimes life is
Great, super, spectacular, awesome,
Excellent, cool;
And sometimes
Just plain old
Good
The Fast Lane
by Tamar Snorden
I am a 15 year old girl who was in the fast
lane for awhile
And let me tell you, it ain’t no fun. You get
to lie to your parents
All the time, so they don’t know where you
are or what you
Are doing. You got to do things you know
you are not supposed
To do to fit in, and that’s not close to all you
got to do. You got
To worry about girls talking about you, trying
to fight you over
Stupid stuff, like boys, rumors and just
plain – because you’re out
There. And I was out-there because I
wanted to, not because I had
To be…
Like some kids did. Living in the fast lane
means that you don’t care
About your parents or how you are hurting
them because you care
More about
Your so-called friends, more than your family.
Living in the fast lane
Messes up your reputation and gets you a
criminal record quick
And your
Friends disappear sooner than you think;
living in the fast lane
Messes with schooling
And sooner or later you drop out because it
messes with your
Social life. So take a good look.
Living in the fast lane is not easy at a young
age so stay out of the
Fast lane until you’re old
Enough to handle it. So, teenager, stay in
school. It’s easier.
Trust me.
Part of Me
by Rachel Putnam
Part of me is gone
Long lost but not forgotten
And I want for it
A Dance at the Hearth of Hearts
by Nick Pincumbe
This is for flame which burns in caverns deep
This is for fragile balance in a spark
which needs but fickle breeze to fall to sleep
To but dream dance between fair light and dark
This is for graceful dancer on tight thread
now biting lip to not now trip – go out
To now sustain that which awakes the dead
With brilliant glow to drown the dark of doubt
This is for that which tends to burn too bright
For flame which flickers hungry in the eye
now burning obstinately through the night
Through bright consumption willing not to die
But by this burning soon perhaps consumed
and by flames of passion dancer doomed
I Know Childhood
by Kelly N. Mears
I know childhood…
The rush in your stomach as you ride that
first roller coaster.
The cool grass on my feet in the evening
shade.
The warm sun as I curl up on the porch
with the cats for a “catnap” of my own.
I know childhood…
The salty smell of the ocean on the last
day of vacation.
The smell of pickles that make your
mouth water as you sneak one outside
without getting caught.
The smell of freshly cut grass as you pick
violets and dandelions missed by the
mower.
I know childhood…
The rata-tat-tat of the sprinkler as you
rush to get your bathing suit on.
The screams of friends being tagged “it”
in a game of hide and seek.
Your mother’s voice as she calls for you to
come in, “But mom, it’s still light out!”
AfterWord
by Arie C. Koelewyn
It takes encouragement to convince young writers that they’re worthy. Encouragement to write and enter competitions; encouragement to read in public; encouragement to send their poems to a complete stranger for printing.
Encouragement comes from teachers: Joyce Haner, Okemos High School; Joyce Benvenuto, Meridian High School; Dee Cassidy, Eaton Rapids High School; Susan Howard, East Lansing High School; Christine Keehbauch, Sexton High School; Laura Frye, Fenton High School; Kathleen Ryan, Catholic Central High School; and Jackie Morelock, Williamston High School.
The competition judges, Laura Apol and Sam Mills, both noted local poets, and members of the National Society of Arts and Letters, Mid-Michigan Chapter who organized the competition and the public reading of the winning poems all gave their share, and then some, of encouragement. Schuler Books, by providing a venue for the reading, encouraged and gave recognition.
Joyce Benvenuto, representing the NSAL, was particularly helpful and encouraging in making this volume possible.
Now it’s your turn. If one of these poems moved you, if a turn of phrase struck a chord, if you recognized a thought, then you can tell the authors. Send your comments to:
The Paper Airplane Press
East Lansing, MI 48823-1340
I’ll do my best to make sure the authors receive your encouraging words.
The Paper Airplane Press
Arie Koelewyn, Prop.
East Lansing, MI 48823
350 copies for NAPA,
NSAL and the authors.