Silverton Poetry Association

Silverton, Oregon

Favorite Poems

All Caring

full moon set orange as I rise
faithful early writer consider
cruel history chance chosen
according to birth time place

water browning lawn perfect
summer sequencing satirical
fortune fragile tough talking
words wing glad bloom bird 

what conclude this outcome
personal mockery all caring
equal surely smug shattered
irony rewards none's virtue

 Michael Smith

(from MICHAELWRITES—http://michaeltownsendsmith.blogspot.com)

Erstwhile Love

 We weren't exactly the most likely pair.
We tended both to make austere demands.
Neither of us was wise, or kind, or fair. 

But still we felt it under the ribs, yes, there,
When we felt the touch of one another's hands.
We weren't exactly the most likely pair, 

But why complain?  It wasn't such a dare,
No, not in those days, nor in those distant lands.
Neither of us was wise, or kind, or fair, 

And we didn't talk of love, but we knew where
To find it, nonetheless, and made our plans
Accordingly.  "They're not a likely pair," 

Some snorted, but you were caught fast in my snare,
And I in yours, and amidst the shifting sands,
We had our joys, though neither wise nor fair, 

And plucked a flower or two from among the tares,
And something of that happiness still stands --
Although we were hardly the most likely pair,
And neither of us wise, or kind, or fair. 

Villanelle No. 6 by Christopher M. Wicks
First Place Winner, Poetry Contest of the Willamette Store at Willamette University,
Salem, Ore.;  Rhymed Division, 2007

       Downhill Skier

 Skiing schussed away fogs -
A crystal clarity about priorities.
Mix  endorphines and adrenaline,
Sprinkle lightly with commraderie,
Add white anticipation -  that's skiing. 

Uphill from the lodge - woven through
Innocent stands of fir trees - arteries -
That carry life blood.  From top to bottom -
Places of transformation. 

At the top of the chairlift, we're ready to
Dance with winter. The music of silence
And whispering trees give the nod :
We become one with the white ribbons
That call. 

Some days our downhill runs 
Are as smooth and light
As the snow that carries us.
We blend naturally with this soft
Side of winter.  

At other times we're winter storms -
Attacking steep slopes, jumping
Off bumps, white missles flying
On ribbons. We beckon fear to
Hold our hearts - for a minute or two.  

At dusk, we are renewed. Authentic
Feelings replace tangled wires
Of daily living - joy and peace step in -
For a while.  We say goodbye to
Settled snowflakes - they wave back -
Each in her own way. 

Larry Anderson

For further information, contact the Poetry Festival at the Silverton Art Association at 503-873-2480 or email at spa@silvertonpoetry.org.