poetrywatch

“When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man’s concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.” — John F. Kennedy

Do You Enjoy poetrywatch?

Artwork by Hilary Cole

Want to see it continue? Then please, send your poems to us and let the Whatcom Watch share them with our readership! Seriously, we really do want your roughly 25-line poems though length is by no means a deal-breaker; it’s how you use those lines. Featuring or specific to Whatcom County and issues addressed by Whatcom Watch such as government, the environment and media. Send your poems to: poetry@whatcomwatch.org and let’s make magic happen.

Subject matter is unlimited, but poetry featuring or specific to Whatcom County and issues addressed by Whatcom Watch (government, the environment and media) will likely get first preference. Please keep it to around 25 lines; otherwise, we might have to edit your work to fit. Don’t make yourself unprintable. Send poems and your short, two- or three-sentence bios as a word document attachment to poetry@whatcomwatch.org. The deadline is the first day of the month. Please understand that acceptance and final appearance of pieces are subject to space constraints and editorial requirements. By submitting, authors give Whatcom Watch permission for one-time publication rights in the paper and electronic editions.

Ferry Crossing

by C.J. Prince

A thimble of black and white tugboat,
in the distance
pulling a seaweed rope muscled
as a fisherman’s arm,
the length of a league —
a taut thin line
inching along Queen Charlotte Channel.

I watch from the rail, sea spray
misting my curious face.
The slow creep forward,
not a seaweed rope
but logs:
a village of logs, strapped,
stacked, clinging to each other,
a dance floor for blue herons.

_____________________________
C.J. Prince is a co-founder of World Peace Poets, facilitates writing practice at South Whatcom Library and is the recipient of Writers’ International Network, Canada, Distinguished Poet Award.


End-of-rivers

by Rick Hermann

The waves at Fort Ebey
are full of rocks.
Waves break in me, too.
Water knows my
weaknesses, my stingy
need for love. How I manage
to remain; oceans can wait.
Birthed by river,
I scraped by for a long time,
needing no one.
Poor judgment.
Turns out I need someone.
Everyone.
Feet bathed in Salish Sea waters
at the end-of-rivers.
As the tide ebbs, some rivers
are nearly out of time.
Trees atop the bluff behind me
survive, contorted by wind.
Difficult life, created in the shape
of the wind. That is what
life does: shapes you.
Roots hold on.

____________________________
Rick Hermann enjoys practicing tai-chi with his wife. They live in Bellingham with a tuxedo cat who practices qigong every day.

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