“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
Boris Schleinkofer, poetrywatch editor
Artwork by Hilary Cole
- 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.
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Subscriptions
by Betty Scott
When we subscribe to local newspapers,
we open our front doors to reading,
that hand-me-down sport. Often, the paper waits
at the door or in our mailbox or driveway
where in robe and slippers,
we race against raindrops
to take our rolled-up friend inside
before our neighbors spot us.
On Sunday mornings, the rustle of pages belongs
to families as we return to earlier days:
eggs and hash browns with grandpa,
coffee and bagels, or savory moments alone with ideas.
Consider that in the 1950s,
pressmen apprenticed for six years,
older men teaching younger the craft .
During the Korean War, with a shortage
of manpower, to keep presses drumming,
our government decreed
newspapers an essential industry
and deferred machinists … to save lives.
Who better sustains
the drumbeat of communities
than beat reporters,
recording civic events?
And if it’s democracy and freedom we want,
then we must invest in investigative reporters,
kettle drummers of strong societies
informing readers who need local expertise.
Who better serves families
than photographers and editors,
living among us, holding forth
for accuracy and plain language.
Yes, our country and the fourth estate
have gone astray. Corporate gossip, political bias,
disjunction and on-line sensationalism
may break our sacred contract with the past.
We used to accept the smudge of newsprint.
Now, the swoosh and clank of presses are a hard sell.
It takes rolls of newsprint to feed communities
and a whole tympany of workers
for democracy and freedom to ring.
Will we citizens ask and subscribe for more?
Will water, ink, light, and speed keep
press cylinders spinning?
Will we honor pressmen, presswomen,
editors, publishers and delivery drivers
who hoist bundles and manage
complicated maps and route sheets?
Will we be grateful for our local folks
who seek accuracy
and hold the tension as daily
adjustments are made?
Vocally and financially, will we
honor our great grandparents
and children’s children
by supporting our vital font of local news?
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Betty Scott’s poetry is inspired by the dislodged bucks, does and fawns, rabbits, raccoons, squirrels, spiders, moths, bees and moles underground: so many critters released onto the streets by the cutting down of the Pacific Northwest’s majestic trees.
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