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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’ and Editors’ Choice — Favorite
Poems
1st Runner-Up — Billie Wilson
winter nears—
in the dog’s eyes
the wolf
Billie Wilson
Employing just a few key words, Billie Wilson’s haiku is both
immediately accessible and evocative of many layers of meaning. Foremost
is the relationship of dog to wolf. All varieties of dogs and wolves are
closely related and are interfertile. It is wolves, however, not dogs,
that are historic icons of evil. Our canine companions are remarkably
domesticated, adopt their humans as pack members, bark at strangers, and
defend the leader’s territory. They are tamed. And yet . . .
Billie senses a duality in her dog — kinship both with humans and “the
wild.” Jack London explored these relationships in his novel The Call of
The Wild. “Buck,” a dog raised with humans, is attacked by wolves. He
fights and kills the alpha male and becomes leader of the pack. London’s
implication is that domestication is a very thin veneer. Communally,
wolves hunt for food. They also kill coyotes and dogs as competitors.
Any single wolf entering their range will likely be killed. Neighboring
wolves are often in violent, tribal conflict.
The first line of the poem is expressive of deeper meaning. The
dog-to-wolf relationship resonates within the context of “winter” and
as
that season “nears.” Shakespeare’s setting of murder and internecine
conflict in the play The Life and Death of King Richard III begins with
Richard’s soliloquy: “Now is the winter of our discontent...” To
become king, Richard kills even his young nephews. Full-blown war
results between English armies.
In homage to Shakespeare, John Steinbeck chose to title his Nobel Prize
winning novel The Winter of Our Discontent. In it he writes: “The
law of
the fang is not repealed.” Steinbeck explored the paradox of man’s
conflicted nature and stylized this philosophical dilemma within the
thoughts of one character, Ethan. A same individual has the capacity for
moral and immoral behavior, for selfless acts of good and base violence
against others. London peopled his Call with characters either cruel
or
loving toward Buck. Sometimes a break occurs between idealism and
brutish behavior of individuals or groups. This: the winter of
civilization. Humans are animals only partially domesticated.
—Paul MacNeil
2nd Runner-Up — Anna Tambour
preoccupied—
my hand fills with
dog nose
Anna Tambour
Anna Tambour reveals her affinity for non-human creatures with
appealing ease and beautiful concision. Her no-frills account evokes a
strong sensory response in this reader. The poem will be especially
resonant for dog lovers, but just about anyone who has been in the
presence of a friendly canine for any length of time can relate to the
author’s experience.
In his fine commentary for the poem, which won the May 2002 Heron’s
Nest Award, Christopher Herold describes its strengths: the successful
use of a line-ending preposition to create momentary uncertainty; a
specific rhythm that works for the poem; and the direction to an instant
of time and a precise location. Those qualities combine to create
another powerful element, a sharp sense of immediacy. Anna Tambour
brings me right into the moment with her. Satisfyingly nudged from my
preoccupation with the unusual and intriguing first line, I swap the
poet’s hand for mine, as it “fills with/dog nose.”
Dogs read the state of the world through their noses. That amazing
sense of smell finds lost children, earthquake victims, termites, and
pipeline leaks, and is even being used to detect cancer in its earliest
stages. But the family pet adds another element to its agenda:
regularly updating all it knows about the people who provide it with
food and shelter. And even the quietest, most polite creature must have
a way to remind a person of its presence. These vital activities
frequently involve a cold nose being thrust against human skin.
I happen to know that Anna Tambour and her husband belong to Rosie, a
lovely Red Kelpie whose breed was developed for herding Australian
livestock. Rosie is courteous at all times and very protective of her
people. She is surely a pro at asking and getting answers to questions
like, “What have you been eating? How are you feeling today? Did you
actually touch that wombat?” Rosie uses her nose.
In seven words, this author has captured the soul and essence of a
satisfying human/canine relationship. Anna, thank you for reminding me
of that joy.
—Ferris Gilli
Reader’s Choice
3rd Runner-Up (tie) — Connie Donleycott
woodland path—
a small flower
bends our knees
Connie Donleycott
At first glance, it could be said that this wonderful image "bends" a
well-worn restriction against anthropomorphism in haiku, but it could
also be argued that its clever use of words serves to bring this image
into sharper focus, much like bending down to closely examine that which
would otherwise be overlooked. That a small flower would be growing
along a woodland path is hardly extraordinary. That the travelers would
be compelled to stop and look at it prompts us to pause and ask the
simple question, "why?" Our minds conjure an arresting beauty that sets
the flower apart from its surroundings. The bending of the knee suggests
not only the adjustment of one’s height but also the solemn respect and
reverence commanded by such beauty. Connie Donleycott has happened upon
a rare gem in the most common of places. It is this elusive moment of
reflection and unexpected discovery that is at the very heart of haiku.
—Paul David Mena
Reader’s Choice
3rd Runner-Up (tie) — Hortensia Anderson
loneliness—
a piece of driftwood
keeps returning
Hortensia Anderson
Hortensia Anderson takes us to the water’s edge and holds us there
awhile. I’ll imagine the Atlantic and set myself a bit apart from others
who might be on the sand looking out across it. Maybe I have found a
secluded strand and am alone as well as lonely. More likely, other human
beings are near by. Loneliness can surface even when one is surrounded
by friends and family members. It is probably a universal human feeling,
a constant for some, a matter of occasional tides or surges for others.
One person facing the water. That is an image that resonates with
loneliness. The piece of driftwood is another. Put the two together,
toss the wood, add the passage of time, and watch the wood return.
Again. And again. The repetition augments the sense of loneliness and is
true to its nature. The mood is autumnal, the wood cold and wet, worn
smooth by its time in the water. Its appearance is bleak, stark-and full
of character. It is representative of its kind and yet unique,
suggesting the rawness of human pain and the strength and tenacity of
the human spirit. Loneliness keeps coming back; the lonely person does
too. Does the poet identify with the driftwood, tossed to the waves and
relentlessly returned by them? Does she associate driftwood with the
sadness that returns no matter how deliberately it is cast away? Is
there a certain comfort and even company in the return of that piece of
wood — an acceptance, perhaps, of things as they are? The ongoing movement
leaves the haiku appropriately open-ended, with plenty of time and space
for the empathetic reader to enter it and move around.
—Peggy Willis Lyles
Reader’s Choice
3rd Runner-Up (tie) — Jim Kacian
family album—
the black and white
of my youth
Jim Kacian
The complexity of this haiku lies in its simplicity-with only nine words
it unfolds a past, a present, and a future as rich as the album of
memories it depicts. On the surface, we see what might be a sentimental
journey through old photographs. The fact that the pictures are black
and white elicits few surprises given the passage of time, but a
moment’s reflection suggests that perhaps it’s not only the photos
that
are being described this way. Are we hearing a longing for the days when
the choices set before us were so clear and concise? Are we to
understand that the past is a colorless palate to which pigments and
tones are added as we experience life? Or are we being confronted with
America’s segregated past, easily forgotten except by the camera? The
most literal interpretation of this haiku evokes a sense of innocence
etched in monochrome, but it’s not too difficult to believe that the
author is handing the reader a paintbrush with which he or she can apply
the shades and colors that resonate most distinctly for him or her. With
this wonderful haiku, Jim Kacian has opened a door through which each of
us can enter, each with an infinite number of destinations.
—Paul David Mena
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