Poetry Ahead: Max Ehrmann 2012 Competition

For the second year, ArtSpaces (a non-profit group for public outdoor sculpture) has offered a great poetry competition for the six  Indiana counties in our state-designated art region. This competition was created when ArtSpaces placed a life-sized bronze statue of poet Max Ehrmann in the center of downtown Terre Haute.

Here's what I wrote about it for ArtsIlliana Spectrum Magazine:

"One of the nicest things about the Max Ehrmann Poetry Competition is there’s a series of events for area poets and poetry-lovers. For poets, there is the challenge of working on and submitting poetry to a contest with generous awards and no entry fee. Then there’s the excitement of the awards ceremony where we get to hear the winners read their work. After that, we have the pleasure of attending readings given by each of the judges, who are distinguished poets writing from this area of the country. It’s a stellar way to observe National Poetry Month, to encourage people of all ages to write and read poetry, and to continue to honor Terre Haute’s poet, Max Ehrmann. ”

This year's judges were Peter Bethanis, Micah Ling and Karen Kovacik (who is now Indiana's poet laureate.)

I was thrilled to be among the finalists again this year and here is my winning poem, which received 3rd place in the category of Poems Inspired by a Work of Art. (My post about last year's competition here .)

The work of art that inspired me was a 1945 painting by Lyonel Feininger, "Old Stone Bridge."

Passage


She walks in the world full of roses

and thorns

and walks
wherever she wants
whenever she wants

until she comes to a deep dark water
and a stone bridge

and the hairy troll boys
who spit and snicker and demand their toll.

“You owe us, girlkin,
if you want to pass.
We’ll let you play,
we’ll bargain and barter,
but there’s a price set
and there’s a debt to pay!”

She shakes her head,
jams her hands in her pockets,
tosses her hair like a wild red flag
and begins to dance
across the old, old stones
and the moon dims 
and a fog rolls in

and the troll boys grin
and reach to mark her
for life--

This is where
she jumps.

Swims.   Or learns

she can fly.




                  --Zann Carter (2012)



)O(

Max Ehrmann 2013

 I am brogging today (brag blogging) or maybe blagging (blog bragging.)  Either way, it is my own horn being tooted here.

I am so happy to announce that I won the Grand Prize this year in the 2013 Max Ehrmann Poetry Competition.
And yes, that's again.  I won the Grand Prize and a second prize in the 2011 contest and a third prize in the 2012.

That's seven judges all together over the years that have chosen my work.  I keep reminding myself of that,  hoping to dispel the shadow of fraudulence I have when I identify as 'a poet' without any significant list of publications to back me up.


The theme this year was chosen to connect with the current Year of the River celebration we are having here in Terre Haute. Poetry was invited on the subject of the Wabash River or its watershed, rivers or water in general.  I chose to submit a poem that was simply written to capture a memory of a rainy day in my past.  The judge for this year was Chris Forhan, and we were treated to a reading by him after the awards were announced.

My poem follows. What is very gratifying to me is that I almost formatted it more traditionally, capitalized, etc. But it looked and felt horrible to me. This poem needed to be in just this form.  I do hope the formatting will be retained when I hit publish. Thank you for reading my brog.


         rain, leaves, longing

some time ago: a city
        by the sea
a low sky       
              gray forever as far
         and the water.

the water falling
            on the water
                 on the water falling
on the red tiles
                 on the rooftops
on the leaves
                     which trembled with it.

longing:  the waiting before birth,
before  water
                breaking.

how doors opened on the garden.
how a child napped in the next room.
how i loved the presence of small precious things.

how the word
            for the ritual of the tea ceremony      
simply means “hot water for tea.”
the tea the milk the sugar     the blessing
              of lentil soup    ginger     apples.

thunder so far away it’s only dream thunder.

but there        then:
the growing in me
               near the sky by the sea
before the opened doors
           the doors that opened on
          the garden
                     the showered earth singing
        the dripping things
the trembling leaves again and again
           the green green
                                       heart
of  water
                  beating.


---Zann Carter [2013]