In 2024, the CSPS Monthly Contest winners were as follows, selected by Alice Pero, Contest Judge
January (Nature, Landscapes):
♦ 1st Prize: 1st Prize Colorado Smith, “SkyFire”
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Kathryn Schmeiser, “Last One Standing”
♦ ♦ ♦ 3rd Prize: Paula Appling, “Cognitive Dissonance"
February (love):
♦ 1st Prize: Richard T. Ringley, "The Parts of You I Cannot Name"
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Jeff Graham, "Nocturne 31"
March (Open, Free Subject):
♦ 1st Prize: Sean McGrath, "hunger for eternity"
April (Dreams, Mythology, Other Universes):
♦ 1st Prize: Lillian Liu, "Sphinx Riddle"
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: David Anderson, "The Next Eucatastrophe"
♦ ♦ ♦ 3rd Prize: Thomas Feeny, "Icarus"
May (Personification, Characters, Portraits):
♦ 1st Prize: Thomas Feeny, "The Bolder Brother"
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Paula Appling, "Still Life"
June (The Supernatural):
♦ 1st Prize: Jane Stuart, “Into the Light”
July (Childhood, Memoirs):
♦ 1st Prize: Carla Schick, "On the Way to the Library"
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Susan Florence, "Where Bach Takes Me"
August (Place, Poems of Location):
♦ 1st Prize: Philip Newton, “Memphis”
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Michael Schoemaker, “Utah Scenic Haiku”
September (Colors, Music, Dance): No Awards
October (Humor, Satire):
♦ 1st Prize: Richard Ringley. "Sixty Is the New Six"
♦ ♦ 2nd Prize: Jane Stuart, "A Merry Mix-Up"
November (Family, Friendship, Relationships):
♦ 1st Prize: Ellice Jeon “A Welcome Guest”
December (Back to the Earth – Time, Seasons)
♦ 1st Prize: Kathryn Schmeiser, “The Magic Hour”
Poems from January through July were published in Poetry letter No. 3 o of 2024 and reproduced on this bog, with surreal paintings by Maria Wollenberg-Kluza.
https://www.californiastatepoetrysociety.com/2024/10/poetry-letter-no-3-of-2024-fall-issue.html
Poems from August through December are reproduced below. Due to Blogspot formatting issues sometimes poems are double-spaced and sometimes single-spaced, we were not able to figure out the reason nor to defeat this bug on Blogspot.
AUGUST 2024
MEMPHIS
The Southern cities rest on mud
and beneath the mud, sand
extinct embayments full of
salty sycamore and silent stone fish
Memphis is cold in February
Something always follows in
the half-light of alleys
and ahead of you, just beyond actual seeing
walks someone you might once have loved
headed towards the river
The Mississippi mutters with a nation of silt
While we have coffee in morning cafes
and sit quiet in tobacco rooms above shops
where the morning comes diminished
the brown water carries its constant burden seaward
displacing and replacing everything we know
In the red brick afternoon the sun leans
against walls, crosses streets black with travel
You are here somewhere, going somewhere else
No matter where that is, I won’t be far behind
Philip Newton, First Prize, August 2024
UTAH SCENIC HAIKU
pine needle trail walks by a fountain
draws me back dips in a toe
to hidden childhood hollows — ripples to eternity
red-tailed hawks glide
snowflakes rise
to vaulted plateaus
robin watches hoarfrost-covered trees
me unearth soldiers’ silhouettes
last year's beets against frosted frozen falls
sunflowers turn sunward
casting shadows
on the garden fence
campfire smoke squirrels sprint
rises and curls above up blue spruce
meadowlark’s morning song in a blur of speed
winter creek congealing
wild ducks waddling
Michael Schoemaker,
Second Prize in August 2024
SIXTY IS THE NEW SIX
My saintly spouse scolds me when I leave
in stained white shirts that do not fit;
with frayed initials on my sleeves;
and pants that fall beyond my hips;
and hair, poor hair, that’s been displaced
with fuzz - top, bottom, and my face.
At sixty, I feel more like six.
Ceaseless recess for endless years;
ceramics classes; old card tricks;
hearing aids large as rabbit ears;
and carnal thoughts that won’t survive
the domestication of our lives.
Richard T. Ringley
First Prize, October 2024
A MERRY MIX-UP
The red hen barked—it was by mistake,
the donkey ran upside down.
A little pony ran through squares
of light that fell to the ground
from a second star that chased the first
across a heavenly sky
while a team of mice oared the boat
that held their queen
around the moon
and distantly a second tent
blew in the rainy wind
that turned to snow
while the circus folk
sidled and jumped upside down
while waiting for cinnamon
in their milk
and a joy ride back to town.
Jane Stuart, Second Prize, October 2024
NOVEMBER 2024
A WELCOME GUEST
Contrary to the restless heart
The blue sofa pressing down the gray, the light beige cushion,
And the single painting of the sea hanging above----
It’s the horizon, understand?
A long chunk of concept, the sea seems ready to pour onto the surrounding walls.
I move toward the horizon, straightening a crooked corner of the sea,
Only then does it let out the sound of waves it had lost.
Lake a farewell sent after long inner turmoil,
I watch the foam surge toward my bare feet, believing in what will not be kept.
Like footsteps heading out to see off a guest
Ellice Jeon, First Prize, November 2024
DECEMBER 2024
THE MAGIC HOUR
If a year was tucked inside of a clock,
then autumn would be the magic hour…
—Victoria Erickson
Tick…tock…Tick…
Hours taper like candle wicks
minutes diminish
seconds shrink
magic swirls
Crayons spill between tree roots
colors scribble on veined foliage
Torn leaves blow, tinted scraps
of paper crumple
words tumble
stem over tip
Waving wands, limbs cast spells
Magic incantations dwell inside
clocks
Colors erupt
the hour chimes
tock…
Kathryn Schmeiser,
First Prize, December 2024
RICHARD M. DEETS CELEBRATES
THE 250TH ANNIVERSARY OF THE U.S. ARMY
During the CSPS Board Meeting, our Vice President for Membership, Richard M. Deets read for us his poem, commissioned for the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the U.S. Army at the local military base in Dublin, CA on 14 June 2025. Writing laudatory poems of this kind has been an ancient tradition, and I’m happy to reproduce Richard’s poem in the Poetry Letter.
A QUARTER MILLENNIUM OF SERVICE
(AKA ODE TO THE UNITED STATES ARMY)
Two hundred fifty years of steadfast might,
"This We'll Defend," our motto clear and true.
No army is better than its soldiers' honor and might.
From Lexington through dawn's emerging light,
Through battles fought and victories pursued.
Two hundred fifty years of steadfast might.
Citizen soldiers stand tall, embodying the might
reflecting legacies of those who paved avenues.
No army is better than its soldiers' honor and might.
Celebrating what makes the Army right -
Our people, our mission, our legacy.
Two hundred fifty years of steadfast might.
From endless day to star-illumined night,
One force, one family, one bond of loyalty,
No army is better than its soldiers' honor and might.
America's finest warriors, a culture of service,
Our legacy in every soldier’s face we view.
Two hundred fifty years of steadfast might,
No army is better than its soldiers' honor and might.
© 2025 by Richard M. Deets
RICHARD M. DEETS. After a career as a mathematics teacher, Richard Deets became the Vice President, Membership of the CSPS in the fall of 2012. He also served on the Board of Directors of the Livermore Valley Opera and the City of Dublin’s Heritage and Cultural Arts Commission. His poems have appeared online in a variety of milieus. Richard’s published articles on poetry include The Elements of Poetry online at FamilyFriendPoems.com. One of his poems published on the same site became a wedding favorite, as he stated, “I wrote the poem, ‘Our Dreams,’ as a Valentine gift for my wife. Since that time, over a hundred brides have requested permission to include the poem in their wedding ceremonies. My wife has given me permission to say yes to every bride.”
A TRIBUTE TO THE U.S. ARMY’S MONUMENTS MEN
– BY MAJA TROCHIMCZYK
THE LADY WITH AN ERMINE
~ after Leonardo da Vinci's portrait of Cecilia Gallerani,
in the Czartoryski Museum in Kraków
Her eyes follow me around the room
with that secretive smile she shares
with her famous cousin.
Filled with the knowledge of what was, what will be
she slowly caresses the smooth warm ermine fur.
Tesoro, amore mio, sii tranquillo, ti amo
Leonardo’s brush made a space for her to inhabit,
a grey-blue sky painted black much later –
she was pregnant, her son – a Sforza bastard,
the white ermine - the emblem of her Duke.
Sheltered by Polish royalty, she revealed
her charms only to their closest confidantes.
In 1830, exiled in a precious wood box, to Paris,
In 1919, returned to taste the Polish freedom.
Amore mio, sii tranquillo, ti amo
In 1939, hidden again, found by the Nazis
for Hitler’s last dream, the Linz Führermuseum,
Art among red flags and swastikas, flourishing
in the dark cavern of his mind. Never built.
Berlin, occupied Kraków, Governor Frank's
hunting lodge, Bavaria. The Red Army's closing in.
Train tracks. Crisp winter air. American soldiers,
The cameras of Monument Men.
Sii tranquillo, ti amo
Back home in Krakow, she is safe
in the recess of a museum wall. Under a muted spotlight,
children play a game: Walk briskly from right to left,
don’t let your eyes leave her eyes, see how she is watching you.
Her eyes follow me around the room
Filled with the knowledge of what was, what will be
she slowly caresses the smooth warm ermine fur.
She knows that I know that she knows.
Amore mio, ti amo
(C) 2015 By Maja Trochimczyk
_____________________________________________
* Tesoro, amore mio, sii tranquillo, ti amo - fragment of a fictional love letter in Italian, "Sweetheart, my love, be quiet, I love you."
Published on the site Mary Evans Picture Library – Pictures and Poems, & reprinted in 2021 in The Rainy Bread More Poems from Exile, https://www.maryevans.com/poetry.php?post_id=7032&view=poem&prv=poem
"Monuments Men" were art historians, curators, & photographers - members of Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives (MFAA) Section of the U.S. Army created in June 1943 to find and return art stolen during WWII. The Lady with an Ermine was returned to Poland in April 1946. After posting the poem on Facebook, I heard from a descendant of the aristocratic Czartoryski & Zamoyski families that originally purchased the masterpiece and first brought it to Poland. Such rich history!
AUGURY
I awoke August sixth, 12 ½ years since my grandmother Rose died
and my horoscope said, Encourage radical honesty with yourself,
you are more brave than you give yourself credit for
In the dream
a fox slinks towards me with a feather in its mouth
I think my grandmother’s hand gesticulated inside of me
as something the pond coughed up
We both crossed our hands, right over left the same
as if bound to
something unremembered that
still stings and burns
In the kitchen she covers the table
(once a door) with individual bamboo place mats
she is inspecting their weave, the scales falling
from her eyes, the farthing in us she sees
curved knives on the counter below jars of green in the window
and me out the door to the pond
lithe-stepping across fields of corn and squared bales of hay,
rows of apples and peaches to protect the driveway and loosening
the hems of the branches throwing parachutes of shade
Censorious, my cousin tells me grief is not
linear, to go up the hill above the pond where she’s buried
whenever I’m feeling sad
(brownish photo of a marble church) futurities neglected
the smell of wet grass in the rakes smelly boots on the steps at dusk
a fistful of clay on the wheel rosary beads a threadbare apron
Washing our mouths out with a thimbleful of vinegar
comparing green and purple colors casting their shadows dark and growing
borage out of work boots we’d eat from in the garden
My uncle takes a yellow apple wet with cold rain music
from the driveway
and tries to plant
me my own orchard by the pond
a lone goose egg cracked some
easing my tempo I follow drops of blood
up the concrete staircase
around the front porch’s leaf-work in wrought iron reverie: snowshoes, tufts
of fox fur and veneers of the old guard: a muted black and white playing
behind a threshold of beads
a homespun geometric rug angling a stool’s legs still morphing
like the roof of my mouth
I can trace variegated wrinkles without seeing them
the minor tar road
bisecting Palladino
PALLA meaning arms bearer / palace / a large square of cloth
DINO in vulgar: different / small people / little sword
displacing each as winds do wings
I grew up in a small palace
of the outdoors
from where I have planned and failed
Men slamming their fists on the table,
puddles of snowmelt by the radiator
plates of different foods.
Nicholas Skaldetvind, first published in Berkeley Poetry Review
THE LIGHT THAT BREAKS IS AN INWARD LIGHT
For Mike Toivonen
The day’s last gloaming hour
in slow descent
emptying
stained glasses
of amber moonshine and red wine
a long quiet
hard cherries
each of us waiting
for a reason to walk
out into the warm blossoming wind
of midsommar
we must disenthrall our spirits and then we can solve this
says no one
the sauna sits empty
empty all night
the wood worn by
the most ordinary closeness
of ritual
nu ska jag hämta en flaska till
he says and he gets up and he walks
out among the fireflies.
Nicholas Skaldetvind, first published in the Eunoia Review.
NICHOLAS SKALDETVIND is an Italian-American poet and paper-maker. He holds a M.A. (2019) from Stockholm University, Department of English and Transnational Creative Writing (thesis "The Spontaneous Poetics of Jack Kerouac’s Letters from 1947-1956: Repetition, Language, and Narration.”) In 2015 he received B.A degree from Saint Louis University, Madrid, Department of Spanish Language and Literature, Department of International Studies, and Department of Ibero-American Studies. He is a recipient of numerous scholarships and grants, including Graduate ERASMUS Merit Scholarship (September 2018 – January 2019) at Bath Spa University. Department of English and Creative Writing in Bath, England; as well as scholarships at creative writing workshops at Berkeley, CA; Naropa University, Colorado and book arts and papermaking workshop at Wells College in Aurora, New York. He also was an undergraduate Exchange Student at the University of Copenhagen, Department of Political Sciences, English Literature, Spanish Literature, and Historical Linguistics (August 2012 – May 2016) and took a writing course in Danish in 2015. He has served as CQ editor since 2023.
