“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 What- com 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.

Boris Schleinkofer, poetrywatch editor


Good Neighbors

by John S Green

We grow up hearing, “Treat your neighbors like you would like to be treated.” 

Good neighbors bring us ‘just picked’ cherries, newly cut dahlias, they watch our cats when we are out of town and take in our mail — drop hot soup on the doorstep. 

But what of the deer who pass through our yard, the neighborhood cat meowing for a scratch and snack, the pine siskins visiting on the back porch, the spider and bee who drop in to offer their well wishes.

What of the moon and stars who are there every night, and the sun and sky every day. All good neighbors — all worthy of my kindness.


John S Green was born in Europe, living in Turkey, Italy, and Belgium before moving to the United States at age 13. Today, he is a happy, humorous house-husband, enjoying the picturesque Pacific Northwest with camera, notepad, and pencil in pocket.


What if flowers could talk

by Daniel McCann

What if flowers could talk
Would they boast of their beauty
Their fine pleasant scent
Would they speak of their petals
Their exquisite upbringing
Overlooking the valley
Would they call to all others
Demanding attention
Come and admire
Wink with your eyes
Tell me I’m lovely
I won’t be surprised
No flowers don’t talk
Yet speak loudly do they
Inadequate words
Hardly worth mention.


Daniel McCann is a poet, writer and truly a Renaissance man who has recently relocated to the Pacific Northwest.




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