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2003 VALENTINE AWARDS
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Overview
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Readers’ Choice —
Poet of the Year
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John Stevenson
- Readers’ Choice —
Favorite Poets
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paul m.
Peggy Willis Lyles
Anna Tambour
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Readers’ and Editors’ Choice —
Poem of the Year
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paul m.
- Readers’ and Editors’ Choice —
Favorite Poems
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Billie Wilson
Anna Tambour
Connie Donleycott
Hortensia Anderson
Jim Kacian
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Special
Mentions —
Page 1
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- Special
Mentions —
Page 2
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Readers’ Choice — Favorite
Poets
1st Runner-Up — paul m.
A familiar voice to Heron’s Nest readers, paul m. takes First Runner-Up
in the selection by his peers. The majority of votes by his name was for
top-voted “migrating whales,” yet eight of his other 11 haiku this year
garnered support.
When reading paul’s haiku, I often feel as if I am traveling, perhaps
hiking to new places along with him. Some poems chronicle movement:
melting snow
the distance between
someone else’s steps
creek crossing . . .
the uneven footing
on the other side
Action is not direct; the poet has paused to note particular things.
His phrasing in each haiku is tight and even spare. These poems are set
in nature and usually with a recognizable season. One or two things are
observed quite closely.
ripening blueberries
a river carries sunlight
down the valley
cherry blossoms
the parish priest
straightens his collar
trailhead poppies—
but today
with butterflies
a skiff
broken loose—
wild flowers
The paul m. touch is light on “author’s message.”
spring rain
an old stone wall
between pastures
dusk
pelicans and cormorants
share the rocks
Haiku, like proverbial “beauty,” is in the eye of the beholder. This
writer shows us a scene, apposes focused elements, and leaves work for
the reader. These poems carry emotional content. It occurs not on the
surface, not easily picked up. Rather, the reverberation of his wording
and its order allows the pleasure of finding so much more.
migrating whales
all our footprints
wash away
I sense that paul m. knows his subjects well and has perceived their
little truths. He is moved. So am I.
—Paul MacNeil
2nd Runner-Up — Peggy Willis Lyles
Last year, when I invited Peggy Willis Lyles to become an editor for
The Heron’s Nest, my only reservation was knowing that this would mean
losing her as a contributing poet. A presence in the haiku community
since the early 1970s, Peggy Lyles has long been among one of its most
gifted members. Her haiku are rife with keen perceptions and brilliant
insights. She composes with a deft and gentle sensitivity that I’ve come
to recognize even before seeing her name on the page. Thank goodness we
can still read Peggy’s work in other haiku journals.
Fortunately for Heron’s Nest readers, our new editor’s poems appeared
through August, a month after she officially became a heron. In the
August issue, Peggy’s haiku was a beautiful lead-in to her editorship:
a cool current
where the river deepens
summer sky
As with nearly all haiku, this one can be interpreted in a number of
ways. I like to imagine Peggy swimming in the river. She enters the cool
current and decides to float on her back, whereupon she becomes aware of
a wide expanse of clear summer sky. She may have been standing at the
river’s edge, however, noticing first a change of blue where the water
deepens, then the blue of the sky. Since Peggy was just then joining us
in The Nest, I couldn’t help but be lavishly self-indulgent in another
interpretation: “a cool current,” (The Heron’s Nest); “where the river
deepens,” (a commitment to participate with us in efforts to nurture
haiku and haiku poets); “summer sky,” (seemingly limitless possibility).
Eight of Peggy’s nine poems in Volume IV received vigorous nods from
readers. Most favored was the subtly rich, award-winner from March:
gray morning
the weight of mist
in Spanish moss
Two others for which thumbs were raised high:
crashing waves
power walkers
swing their arms
deep chords
from the practice room . . .
a bee stirs applemint
These poems exhibit perfection in the art of implication. The first
reveals a connection between a natural force and an aptly named
exercise. The second connects a man-made sound to a visual image
implying sound. What wonderful olfactory overtones!
A personal favorite also much appreciated by readers is
mother’s scarf
slides from my shoulder . . .
wild violets
I am seldom struck by such depth and sustained resonance in a brief, haiku’s
worth of connection. The poet feels summoned by the flowers. She responds, bending
to look more closely. As if in slow
motion, she sees the scarf slip from her shoulder and she herself slips
into the past. More to the point perhaps, she feels her mother’s spirit
surround her in the present moment — a woman who must have loved natural
beauty. Like mother, like daughter.
Peggy’s life is imbued with talent, wisdom, and compassion. To work
with her is to know this first hand. How clearly it shines through her
haiku! When I say we are supremely grateful, I speak for all of us
herons in The Nest.
—Christopher Herold
3rd Runner-Up — Anna Tambour
In 2001, Anna Tambour’s first work to appear in The Heron’s Nest
presented unusually fresh imagery and mesmerizing aural quality:
power blackout
frogs boom
in the billabong
Two months later, Anna won her first Heron’s Nest Award. With “faint
thunder,” she uses the concrete imagery of setting and action rather
than obvious direction to alert readers to a seasonal change:
faint thunder
a snake sloughs its skin
in the creekbed
Anna’s haiku appeared in six issues of our journal last year, winning
the Heron’s Nest Award in May and again in June. Through haiku, Anna
reveals her remarkable fellowship with the natural world. As does
“faint thunder,” her June 2002 winner eloquently demonstrates that she
is perfectly in tune with the cycles of nature and the wildlife
inhabiting the vast Australian Outback. As the waters approach the
flooding stage, perhaps the poet’s pulse beats faster in worried
anticipation. Moving her focus to a tiny creature, she is filled with
awe at her sudden feeling of kinship with it:
creek rising—
a treefrog’s heart beats
against the windowpane
With simple, concise language and never using
words of emotion, Anna draws readers into her experience. Eager to
share her world with us, she uses vibrant imagery with natural ease to
evoke a sensuous response from readers. She skillfully invites us to
hear the sounds that enhance the quiet of an Outback evening:
cool dusk
kookaburra chatter
from a tree’s silhouette
moon sliver
the sound of dew
dropping from leaves
sharp moon
the sound of a cow
chewing dry leaves
Even something as mundane as a meal on the boil is revealed as unique
and mystical through the poet’s perception:
afternoon burble
the yin yang of two beef tongues
in a pot
While not all of Anna Tambour’s poems contain traditional kigo, most do
evoke a sense of season. The poet reminds Heron’s Nest editors, “All
life here is predicated on the opportunity to thrive, given the chance.
The flora and fauna have never heard of kigo, so they celebrate life
as they have the chance, and procreate with the same urgency.” Deeply
concerned for the land and its wild inhabitants, she closely monitors
them following droughts, fires, and floods. After devastating fires
raged in the Australian forests last year, coming within ten yards of
her home, Anna rejoiced when signs of new growth appeared, reporting,
“The burnt ground wherever we walk is covered with trees now, the size
of dandelions.” Using stark and startling contrast, she confirms the
presence of animal life:
blackened forest
a mushroom
gnawed white
I believe that her award-winning poem of last May reveals the essence
of the poet herself:
preoccupied—
my hand fills with
dog nose
The Heron’s Nest editors are grateful to Anna Tambour for sharing her
extraordinary experiences and poems with us and with Heron’s Nest
readers.
—Ferris Gilli
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