Many poets talk about how they want to make poetry more accessible to readers. Julia Tilley is actually doing something about it. Tilley currently edits the Treasure Trove Poetry Project, a poetry vending machine journal. That’s right, a poetry vending machine. “I hope to make poetry more accessible to people who would not normally read poetry,” Tilley says. “I look for ways to get the words off the page and out into the general population. The Treasure Trove Project dispenses a poem for a quarter out of a bubble gum machine.”

When Tilley isn’t busy deciding which poems deserve to be printed and folded into gumball sized paper nuggets, she is either working as family therapist or writing her own poetry. Unless, of course, she is busy being a parent and foster parent.

After weeks on the road,
no word home,
he comes shuffling back
through my front door.
He looks derelict,
round shouldered,
clothes creased and crumpled.
The hopeful light has gone out
of his smudged eyes.
Except for his return ticket,
he is bringing nothing
back for me.
I let him plunk down
by my computer table,
regard him critically,
with deep affection.
"Honey," I say,
"We've got to make some changes."

-- Carol Clark Williams, January '07

National Attention does not distract local poet

Local poet Carol Clark Williams keeps attracting national attention. In 2006, Williams was named a finalist in the prestigious “Marjorie J. Wilson Best Poem Award” competition sponsored by the Margie Review and judged by the highly respected poet, Molly Peacock. A quick glance at the Margie Review website (www.margiereview.com) reveals that they publish the works of poets like Billy Collins, Maxine Kumin, and Ted Kooser. Now that’s not a bad list to join.

Williams’ work has also been recognized in Writer's Haven Open Poetry Contest and the League of Minnesota Poets' annual contest, the Pennsylvania Poetry Society's Prize Poems anthologies, and the National Federation of State Poetry Society's book, “Encore”. Recently, her poem "Chain Poem" won the New York Poetry Forum Award, and one of her poems has recently been accepted for publication by “Byline” Magazine.

But despite her growing national reputation as a poet, Williams remains firmly grounded in York. “I live in York, within walking distance of the heart of the city,” Williams explains. “This has been my home for half of my life. Most of the poems in my first book, ‘Stories of the Tribe,’ were about Farquhar Park and Jefferson Street.” She also enjoys contributing regularly to local poetry activities. Williams has taken first place awards several times in the Yorkfest Poetry Contest, and she won a first place in Yorkarts' Writer's Eye Competition in 2005. “I can't resist entering contests,” Williams admits. “It's like buying a lottery ticket. I love the suspense, looking forward to checking the mail every day, waiting for a response.”

Achieving this kind of success takes hard work and commitment. It also takes an appreciation for how poetry works. And, as with any art, that isn’t always easy. “The poems seem to fall out on their own when they are ready, usually when I am walking or driving and have no access to pen and paper,” Williams says. “As I did when I was a child, I say them over and over to myself until I can write them down. The ones that come at night inevitably get lost--I can never remember them in the morning. I am grateful for the poems, wherever and whenever they come.”

Williams credits the Bible and the immensity of the universe as inspiration for her poetry. And, like many poets, she attempts to translate her awe into art. “It is inspiring that we can keep our feet on a planet that revolves and rotates,” Williams says. “Life is so strange, even the way we sustain life in our own bodies, the way our blood circulates and we use the air to live -- there are hundreds of poems in that.”

And when she is not being inspired by her sense of awe, Williams also sees – and celebrates -- the beauty in the every day reality of our lives. “I am inspired by the heroes who get up to the alarm clock every morning, go to work, make a home for their families, struggle to live ethically in a bewildering world,” Williams says.

In fact, Williams sees the role of the poet as vital in our society. “The poet Shelley said ‘Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world,’” Williams explains. “It is our job to take a deep look at society and truthfully report what we see, to remind people of who they are individually and as a part of humankind.”

So, while Carol Clark Williams is making a name for herself across the country, she is also bringing a great deal of attention to the York poetry community. And she believes the attention is well-deserved. “The York poets are a fascinating and immensely talented group of people,” Williams says. “We have poets and visual artists whose work deserves national recognition. I wish more of the York poets would submit work for publication.”

And for poets who might not aspire to achieve national recognition just yet, Williams points out that the local poetry scene has plenty to offer. “There is a strong interest in the art scene around York, Lancaster, and Harrisburg,” she explains. “We have some excellent showcases for poets in local literary anthologies like ‘Digge's Choice’, ‘Fledgling Rag’, and the ‘Yorkarts' Writer's Eye’ anthology. You can attend some kind of poetry venue almost every night of the week.”

With her recent success nationally, it might be easy for Williams to be distracted. But her focus remains solidly on her writing. And she has aspirations that extend well beyond the glare of the spotlight. “I hope to write poems that elicit this response: ‘That's absolutely true, and I never thought of it that way before.’” Williams says. “As a lifetime achievement, I would like to come up with one poem like William Ernest Henley's ‘Invictus’, which people could memorize and recite to give themselves courage decades after the poem was written.”

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches writing at York College and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. Or, send comments directly to his “Poetryork” blog at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

Upcoming Poetry Events in York:

Mon. March 5
Live Poets Society Reading
Borders Books and Music
7:30 pm

The Bamberg Train

Here comes the Silver "Meter"*
I hear it's Bamberg bound.
Oh, I can't wait to board her
There's no better train around.

It takes me home to Cox Hill,
To Main and Railroad streets.
It takes me home to family and
To food that can't be beat!

When the train turns around in D.C.**
The black folks go to the back.
And we scramble on like crazy ...
Every Mary, every Jane and every Jack.

You begin to smell the good food
Ma'Dear put in the sack - fried
Chicken, sweet potato, pie and salad.
Our lips go smack! Smack! Smack!!!

As the Bamberg Train goes rattling
The humming wheels lull us to sleep.
Full stomachs, happy children - battling
Silver Meter don't you creep!

"All Aboard!" we're in Virginia
The conductor's voice does boom!!
"All Aboard!" it's North Carolina
Now where is that bathroom?

Pretty soon we'll reach South of the Border***
Where Ma'Dear**** says all they sell is trash.
The train won't stop, but it oughter, cuz I'd
Like to spend some cash!

When we roll into the Bamberg station
And Campbell is there with his cab.
We begin our final destination as the
Grown-ups blab, blab, blab.

I have two weeks to play and play
With friends that I love ever so.
I wish that I could stay always ...
But M'Dear says we have to go.

Next year when I am a little bit older
Ma'Dear says I may stay all summer long.
I may even be a mite bolder
And ride the Meter all alone!

There's nothing like the Meter
No where on God's green earth
For getting folks to Bamberg
To home, to love, to Mirth!

-- By Julia Hines-Harris
Original poem for Black History Month


*The correct pronunciation is Silver Meteor
**Before the Civil Rights Movement and during the Jim Crow days ... once
trains from the north arrived south of the Mason/Dixon Line, the train that
Blacks rode on were hooked on the last car of the train and the Black
passengers had to ride on that car. Ma'Dear is an endearment for one's
mother, grandmother or a dear aunt.
***South of the Border is a popular stop after North Carolina. It has a
Mexican theme and many amusements and shops.
****Ma'Dear is a term of endearment for a grandmother, mother or a beloved
aunt or older cousin.

Reverse Magic

I should have thrust a branch
through the center
of my rippled reflection
down to the yielding bed
or dropped a rock
on the scalloped hem
of fast-moving current to slow,
to stop the flow before it swept away
brief eddies I did not look at long enough
where fish puff O's with fluid lips, kiss
cool water their gills receive, expel,
and above them
the feet of ducks dangle like blurred
orange stars to wish upon--
Gusts of summer I forgot
to breathe deeply enough--There is
so much I missed, and now
I can only try to stare long enough
down the receding river until illusion
shifts the ground under me:
the river becomes still; the astonished trees
row slowly with leafy branches,
setting the land in motion.

Carol Clark Williams

You said not to wait
Not even to try
But how can I do this
I hear myself cry

I’ve told you my downfall
Yours is the same
I’m not afraid of the challenge
Not afraid of the pain

Coming out of your darkness
I know you’ll pull through
Past hurts will become silent
As they so often do

Remembering heartache’s physical pain
Slowly to become lost in tomorrow
Taken with each passing day
Further erasing your sorrow

Could I take away the pain
To make you stop hurting inside
Feeling what you’re feeling
Craving a beautiful world to hide

Not knowing of the future
Whether I will see you again
Because feelings like yours
Need some time to mend

Life will soon touch you softly
Long enough for tenderness to seep through
Once again offering life’s beauty
Accepting will be up to you
— Melissa Tressler

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
POETRYORK
By Bill Diskin

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I don’t like Valentine’s Day. Never have. Even in elementary school, I remember dreading having to fill out those red and pink valentine’s with the names of all my classmates. “Why should I have to give a heart card to some kid I don’t even like?” I remember asking myself.

Over the years, I have mellowed a bit. I realize that we live in an over-commercialized world and Hallmark holidays are simply part of the reality (agony?) of our modern lives. I simply do my best to ignore them. Believe me, this is not a very popular position to be in at this time of year. My kids have been busy all week picking out the right cards and deciding what kind of candy they want to share with their classmates.

And my wife, of course, is never too thrilled about my disdain for Valentine’s Day. We never go out for valentine’s dinner. I never buy her heart-shaped diamond necklaces. Last year I did actually send roses through WITF — the local public radio station — but that was in large part because I was feeling so guilty for not being a member, even though I listen to NPR every day.

So, Valentine’s Day is not my thing. But I do like poetry. And occasionally, poetry plays a part in the whole Valentine’s Day scheme. So I was intrigued when I received a note from a reader a few weeks back. “My name is Melissa Tressler,” she wrote. “And I need your help. I wrote a poem for someone that I would like to get to him via the newspaper.”

While I don’t consider this column a vehicle for sending secret love messages, I did find the prospect of helping someone connect through poetry somewhat appealing. So I followed up with Ms. Tressler and asked a few more questions.

She offered some insights about poetry that I thought made good sense. And when I asked her what she hoped to accomplish with her poetry, she replied “a peace within myself.” I like that. Peace, after all, seems to be in short supply these days.

Tressler, whose favorite poem is Lord Alfred Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot,” has enjoyed creative writing from her earliest days in school. “In first grade I had a teacher who would have us write short stories every week to share with the class,” she recalls. “And I remember enjoying that very much. It’s funny, I still have all of those stories.”

In fact, Tressler still writes short stories. She also writes speeches. But she admits that writing poetry is still her favorite way to express herself. “There have been times when a light bulb will just go off in my mind about a certain topic, world events or world history, for instance,” she says. “And other times I write about my own personal emotional black holes.”

Whatever the topic, Tressler considers poetry vital in our quest to communicate our feelings with (and for) others. “Poetry is often used as a valuable therapy tool in our society,” she says. “Sometimes life puts a person through situations that will in return create a strong need to express private emotions, and poetry allows this expression without the confrontations.”

And without all those silly heart-shaped cards.

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches writing at York College and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. His “Poetryork” blog is at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

and the air is moored and oddly warm.
What do you want to remember?
Rush-hour twilight’s east horizon
where the full and rising moon
has managed to be pink?
Or the other side of the sky,
its clouds dragging
huge caves of storm?
Really, you want a heart
whole enough to hold them both—
both, and the shifting space
of the space between.
— Melissa Carl

As a child growing up on Lancaster County farmland, Melissa Carl played outside a great deal — in the woods, cornfields and muddy creeks that surrounded her house. She loved to be outdoors.

“I climbed trees, spent hours every day on my swing set; my dad took me fishing at the Conestoga Creek,�? Carl remembers. “Autumn meant raking mountains of leaves and going on hayrides, skating on local ponds in the winter, and boating on the Susquehanna River every weekend in the summer.�?

Today, Carl teaches world cultures, gifted support, and advanced placement European history at West York Area High School. And she hasn’t lost her love and appreciation for the outdoors. These days, she captures her fondness for our natural surroundings in poetry. “As far as translating my love of nature into poetry,�? Carl says. “I think that nature has a lot to say, and a lot to teach us, if we stop long enough to really notice and pay attention.�?

Carl did not start turning this appreciation for nature into poetry until after high school. “I started writing poetry after reading Marge Piercy’s book of poems, ‘The Moon is Always Female’ while still in college,�? Carl says. “Those poems seemed so accessible compared to the more formal, classic poetry I had read in high school. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to begin writing my own poems.�?

And she has been writing her own poems ever since. Last summer, she published her first poetry manuscript, “Proof�? through Booksurge Press. And last month, Carl won first place in the adult category of the YorkArts Writers Eye Literary Competition. Her winning poem, “Regrets,�? was a reflection on an interactive art installation entitled “Remorse: Pinned Under My Skin.�? The poem, along with other winning poems in a variety of age categories, will be published in the 2006 YorkArts Writer’s Eye Awards chapbook later this month. Four of Carl’s poems will also be appearing in the February edition the literary journal, The Fledgling Rag.

Carl encourages aspiring poets to be full participants in the craft as both readers and writers. “Read, read, read and read some more,�? Carl says. “Read all of the poetry you can get your hands on. Learn what good poetry looks like and sounds like so that you can work towards achieving the same effects. Also, keep a journal — not for gossip, but the descriptions of meals and lilacs, iron bridges and spools of thread — the special details and moments that are the seeds of poems.�?

Carl’s own journals are likely filled with memories and descriptions of the natural world that she has always found so inspirational. “I remember how many rabbits and pheasants I used to see near our house, because there was nothing but cornfields across the street,�? Carl remembers. “My next door neighbor had a huge garden with corn, beans and melons, rows of morning glories. Our back yard faced rows and rows of cherry trees and magnificent lilac bushes.�?

Carl has found — through poetry — a way to turn these personal memories into art.

“Poetry is a linguistic compression of sound, thought and feeling that intensifies experience — for both the reader and the writer,�? Carl says. “Poetry’s passion serves as example and reminder for us to look, love and live passionately. For me, writing poems that recognize nature’s beauty and wisdom is a form of prayer.�?

Melissa Carl’s book, “Proof,�? is available at Amazon.com. Fledgling Rag is available by contacting FledglingRag@aol.com.

Upcoming poetry events:
Feb. 3, Poetry Brew @YorkArts, 7:30 p.m.
Feb. 5, Live Poets Society reading, Borders Books, York, 7:30 p.m.
Feb. 8, Poet Mary Karr, reading and book signing, York College (Wolfe Hall), 7 p.m.

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches writing at York College and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. His “Poetryork�? blog is at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

Unfortunately, like most well-intentioned New Year's resolutions, this community activism will likely revert back to typical levels after the MLK books and videos are put away -- his powerful words lost beneath the din of our harried, overstimulated lives.

Looking closely, though, we can sometimes find the tireless volunteer, the individual who never stops looking for ways to give to the community – and never seems to grow weary of the effort to make a difference.

York is home to several such contributors. And few local residents have volunteered as much – and as often -- as Linda Amos. In fact, Amos was recently recognized by York’s Downtown, Inc. as Outstanding Volunteer of the Year for 2006. Amos, who is a trained Community Emergency Response team member and recent graduate of the City of York Citizens’ Fire Academy, also dedicates a great deal of her time working with children in the MOMS Bible study at First Presbyterian Church of York.

When Amos is not volunteering, she is busy writing and publishing poetry. Forty years ago, Amos got her start writing and publishing while working on PENNings, the literary magazine published by William Penn Senior High School. Since then, Amos has self-published 10 books of free verse poetry.

Even her poetry has a community focus. “I hope to use my words to allow others to express themselves and their experiences,�? Amos says. “I live a seemingly sublime life which revolves around documenting, in verse, my life, my volunteer experiences, and the lives that intersect and cross my own.�?

One of those lives is that of local writer and poet Joe Maldonado. Maldonado, who has self-published three poetry collections of his own, appreciates having Amos as a fellow local poet and editor. In his latest book, TriFecta, Maldonado calls Amos “My dreamer of good dreams�? and thanks her for her work as an assistant editor of the book.

Amos, who is active in poetry contests and associations in Pennsylvania, Texas and West Virginia, considers poetry a vital part of everyday life. “I see poems as true communications,�? she says. “We are immersed in poetry from the womb to the grave. We hear it, we read it, and we recite it all the days of our lives.�?

Amos also sees poetry as a vehicle for citizens of a free society to process their ideas and opinions. “Poetry reflects sadness and losses on life followed by re-emergence and revitalization. In the written verse, Americans feel free to express themselves … carrying forth their personal views of their hopes, dreams aspirations, failures, delights, triumphs and tragedies. Writing poetry is cathartic. It helped our nation grieve after Sept. 11th, Katrina, and other horrors. In poetry, we love, we lose, we learn, we long … and we linger over what was lost! In the face of adversity, Americans write. We read. We recite. We quote.�?

Often we quote Dr. Martin Luther King, who once said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter.�? Linda Amos – poet, volunteer, community activist – has not become silent.

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches writing at York College and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. His “Poetryork�? blog is at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

Why I Write

Putting my thoughts
to pen and paper
is therapy for me.

My poetry is
an outward declaration
of many inward thoughts.

-- Linda Amos

And in the dead of winter, thinking about penguins makes sense. But while the calendar says January, the thermometer still reads “unseasonably�? warm. And that has me thinking about our planet – and what we humans can learn from other members of the natural world. After all, so many of our human actions seem to be so selfish, super-sized and destructive (ozone depletion, global warming, deforestation, to name a few) it seems imperative that humans begin to take a dramatically different approach to how we interact on this planet.

All of this reminded me of a poem that local writer Rob Iosue sent in a while back. The essence of the poem, “Butterflies and Lightning Bugs,�? is that life is short – shorter for some than others – and we should be thankful for what we have on this planet. (The entire poem can be viewed online at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/).

“Butterflies and Lightning Bugs�? is a beautiful story about special people and how they bring joy to the lives of others – even if only for a short time. In the poem, Iosue writes about how God originally created creatures to delight children:

When God finished making the creatures of the earth,
He paused and saw the Children.
“They ought to have something to delight them!�? He thought.

Fireflies do two amazing things: they fly and they light up.
And they move slowly so they can be caught, but do not hurt a soft hand.
But both are short-lived,
No matter how much wonder and delight they bring to those around them

Eventually, though, God realizes that the children get too busy with their lives to notice the joy and wonder of these beautiful creatures. So God takes the soul of some butterflies and lightning bugs and puts them in people.

These are special people.
Different from all other people.
Though they look normal, these Special People have the soul of a Butterfly.
Or a Lightning Bug.
They bring delight and wonder to those around them.

But these Special People are short-lived,
No matter how much wonder and delight they bring to the world.

In the end, the poem concludes:

These Special People help remind us that life is a wonderful thing.
That we should never become too pre-occupied or sad to be delighted by a Butterfly or a Lightning bug.

And we should always be thankful when we do spend time, however short, with a Special Person.
They are each a gift to us.
Because Life is meant
To be
Delightful!

“I started writing poetry in middle school,�? Iosue says. “I realized the power of good poetry when we read a poem by Robert Frost in eighth grade. The teacher asked the class what the poem was about. Everyone answered that it was about a guy walking in the woods, and he took a path that was more overgrown and less traveled.�?

Iosue wasn’t willing to settle for that explanation, though. “A bit more adventurous,�? he says, “I realized it might have been about making a career choice: perhaps to become a poet rather than something else.�?

Since then, Iosue has been reading poetry – and writing some of his own. He is fascinated by the act of writing. “I am always surprised at some of the creativity that pops up unexpectedly. That to me is the real pleasure in writing -- surprising oneself. I remember a quote by basketball legend Julius Erving, who said ‘99 percent of the time I know what I am going to do before I do it, but that 1 percent is what I live for...’�?

Iosue admits that he is most often inspired when he has a specific audience. “The thing that helps me write the most is to write to someone,�? he explains. “I wrote ‘Butterflies and Lightning Bugs’ to the sister of a boy I knew. He was a wonderful boy, a real gift. Those he touched while he was here were fortunate. He spread joy, which is really the best thing a person can do for others. So it was easy for me to write it.�?

Butterflies. Lightning bugs. Penguins. Special People. Though they live relatively short lives, they contribute to their surroundings in very special ways. They share their beauty. They make sacrifices for others. And, ultimately, they make the world a better place.

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches writing at York College and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. His “Poetryork�? blog is at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

Upcoming Poetry Events in York

Sat. Jan. 6
Poetry Brew @ YorkArts
Featuring Native Son and The Drifish
Open Reading to follow
7:30 p.m.

Butterflies and Lightning Bugs

(Inspired by BT and LB Stover)

When God finished making the creatures of the earth,
He paused and saw the Children.
“They ought to have something to delight them!�? He thought.

So he created two more creatures: Butterflies and Lightning Bugs.
Butterflies are pretty and flit around. They can land on a flower or a child’s hand and will not sting or bite.

Fireflies do two amazing things: they fly and they light up.
And they move slowly so they can be caught, but do not hurt a soft hand.
But both are short-lived,
No matter how much wonder and delight they bring to those around them.

God enjoyed watching the children in His garden play with these new creatures.
As He hoped, these special creatures brought wonder, delight, and joy to their existence.

Then something bothered Him.
As the children grew older, they stopped noticing Butterflies and Lightning Bugs.
They became busy with their lives, their work, their own children, and they went longer and longer periods of time without being delighted.

They stopped noticing what was really important:
The beautiful colors of a Monarch or Viceroy;
The luminescence of a field at night, dotted with gently floating, flashing signals.

So God took the soul of some Butterflies and Lightning Bugs and put them in people.

These are special people.
Different from all other people.
Though they look normal, these Special People have the soul of a Butterfly.
Or a Lightning Bug.
They bring delight and wonder to those around them.

But these Special People are short-lived,
No matter how much wonder and delight they bring to the world.

Some die from sickness or accidents when they are young.
Some are born with Downs syndrome or other limitations.
Some are miscarried or still-born, and only bring the joy of what could have been to their parents, perhaps helping them to love each other more and in ways they did not previously know.

These Special People help remind us that life is a wonderful thing.
That we should never become too pre-occupied or sad to be delighted by a Butterfly or a Lightning bug.

And we should always be thankful when we do spend time, however short, with a Special Person.
They are each a gift to us.
Because Life is meant
To be
Delightful!

-- by Rob Iosue

Solstice
As unsure feet slide
Icicles dangle above
Winter surfaces.

Blue Snowman
In the whiteout
the wet falling
snow hurts
less than the spring
thaw that spells
the end of me.

Noel Sloboda appreciates the beauty of the changing seasons. And he likes to read and write poetry that captures the essence of this beauty. “I like haiku, which traditionally deals with seasons,�? Sloboda says. “And I have written poems about winter, spring, summer and fall.�?

Originally from Massachusetts, Sloboda lived in New Hampshire, Connecticut and Missouri – giving him plenty of experience with all four seasons -- before moving here with his wife, a York native, in 2000. Currently, he teaches English at Penn State York.

And while, according to Sloboda, “writing extends and complements what I do almost every day in the classroom,�? he admits that he has not always relied on writing as his main form of expression. “While I have always felt compelled to express myself, I haven’t always written poetry,�? he explains. “As an undergraduate, I initially planned to major in art, with an emphasis in drawing. But due to some inspiring teachers, I ended up studying philosophy and English instead.�?

For a long time, Sloboda says, his work in philosophy and English meant that his writing was almost exclusively critical. But that emphasis has shifted recently. “During the past few years, I’ve come to appreciate the challenges and rewards of composing poetry,�? he says. “Today I can’t imagine how I ever did without my commonplace book. And I often find myself unable to sleep, up half the night, because I am wrestling with a poem in progress.�?

Sloboda has, in a relatively short period of time, published his poetry extensively. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in a variety of places, including Waterways, The Cape Rock, Tipton Poetry Journal, Academic Exchange Extra, FRiGG, EAPSU Online, Ghoti, Boston Literary Magazine, Triptych Haiku, REAL and Hazmat Review.

His advice for poets aspiring to have their work published is to be patient and persistent. “I think it's important to send material out constantly once it's in presentable form,�? Sloboda says. “And while waiting for response, it's best to keep writing, to work on the next thing rather than to focus energy on what's in the mail. For every acceptance, I have at least half a dozen rejections. I have had some poems returned more than 20 times. Eventually, though, most good writing finds a home.�?

Of course, before poets can publish anything, they need to write. Again, Sloboda emphasizes persistence and patience. “I've found that it's essential to write regularly,�? Sloboda explains. “If I write a little bit every day (an hour or two), I produce a great deal. When I put off writing then return to it, I am often stymied -- and it doesn't matter how much time I've given myself to write. Poems, for me, come out over a period of weeks or months, not all at once. So much for Romantic inspiration!�?

Sloboda seeks his literary inspiration from a variety of writers. He has a particular fondness for American writers. “While earning my M.A. and Ph.D., I cultivated an appreciation for American Moderns like Gertrude Stein, T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams and Marianne Moore,�? Sloboda says. “I like the Moderns because of their simultaneous love of, and frustration with, the past. I think today we acutely feel the need for history even as we deal with where it's led us.�? Sloboda adds that he is also awed, inspired and fascinated by contemporary poets Mark Doty, Brigit Peegen Kelly, Jack Wiler and J.D. McClatchy.

When he isn’t writing, Sloboda is involved in theater – which he considers “a source of great pride and exhilaration.�? After visiting Shakespeare festivals across the country, Sloboda recently got involved with the Harrisburg Shakespeare Festival. “Last summer’s 'King Lear' was the first production with which I assisted,�? Sloboda explains. “And I learned a great deal -- primarily about how little I really knew of theater. Fortunately, the HSF folks were patient with me as I learned the ropes. This fall I was dramaturg for the HSF’s ‘A Company of Wayward Saints.' In June 2007, I look forward to helping with the HSF’s ‘A Comedy of Errors’.�?

Indeed, along with his appreciation for the beauty and wonder of the changing seasons, Sloboda has a deep understanding for how poetry and the arts enrich our lives. “Engagement with the arts compels us to invent, to move beyond ourselves -- as we inevitably must since life is different every day,�? Sloboda says. “Without the imagination -- theater, poetry, writing -- we can neither grow nor hope to overcome the challenges of an ever-changing world.�?

Bill Diskin is Poet Laureate of York. He teaches composition at York College of Pennsylvania and is director of admission and marketing at York Country Day School. He can be reached at bill@billdiskin.com. His “Poetryork�? blog is at www.yorkblog.com/archives/poetryork/.

Capitulate

This is one
one movement
one slide of the foot
one time
one arc of a shoulder
one brief gesture against vacancy.

On this day I thought of her ashes
stored in a little
finely wrought box
of walnut and brass
that I cannot recall
having seen.

This should be short,
self contained and graceful
not formal,
or rigid and yet
not lacking in dignity.
Without a change in place
just position.

On this day
without volition,
I thought of
what might have been
for the flash of a minnow’s eye.
There was no intent.

This will not be
a genuflection
not holy or even respectful.
Think of a clock on a wall
any wall,
measuring without going anywhere
It is, nonetheless
a surrender
not a vanquishing.

2005 Dave Grill