Poetic Visions Anthology

Poetic Visions

Poetic Visions Poetry Competition and Exhibition 2020 Anthology Museum of Art—DeLand 1

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Preface The connection between poetry and art has a long history. Like twins from different mothers both forms are born out of the desire to reexamine the familiar in order to experience it in a new and more intense way. The impact of visual art is immediately accessible and engaging where as a poem communicates through written words unfolding as you read along. Poets and artists create images that can imitate reality and ignite our imaginations. The poet’s word choice, point-of-view, purpose, theme and setting, correlate to the artist’s brushstrokes, medium, perspective, purpose, subject and setting. Both poetry and art share the traits of harmony, structure, rhythm and mood.

Perhaps the quote by Leonardo da Vinci expresses this relationship best, “Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.”

There are many examples of poets who were inspired by a specific artist or work of art, as well as artists who created works in response to poets and poems. It was this connection and the desire to explore the intersection between the written and visual worlds of the poet and artist that served as the inspiration for the Poetic Visions Competition and Exhibition. It is not the proverbial “chicken or egg” query, but rather one of how the creative process of poetry and art interact and communicate with each other in order to instigate an engaging dialogue with the audience.

The Poetic Visions Competition was an open invitation for Florida poets to submit original ekphrasis poems (the detailed description of a work of visual art as a literary device) in response to a selection of art works from the Museum of Art—DeLand’s Permanent Collection. From a great many poetry submissions, the thirty-four poems included in this anthology and exhibition were selected through a process involving judging, consultation, and curation.

Thanks are due to all the artists and writers whose submissions did not find their way into this publication and exhibition. Their works were all exceptional and we look forward to seeing their craft in the future.

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Introduction

“Painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks.” - Plutarch The ancient Greeks developed a style of original poetry and prose created in response to works of art – ekphrastic (Greek for description) writing. The Poetry Foundation states that “an ekphrastic poem is a vivid description of a scene or, more commonly, a work of art. Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the ‘action’ of a painting or sculpture, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning.” Although created by the Greeks, this style of writing was popularized by the Romans. Originally the intent of ekphrasis writing was to describe a work of art in such vivid detail so the reader or listener could envision the work as if it were physically present. Well known examples of ekphrastic poems include Homer’s “Iliad”, John Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn”, and W. H. Auden’s “Musée des Beaux Arts”.

The traditionally strong connection in Western art between poetry and the visual arts has maintained the interest in ekphrastic poetry and contributed to a revival among contemporary authors. Modern ekphrastic poets usually move beyond mere description and extend their own thoughts on the work’s underlying story or significance by interpreting, inhabiting, confronting, and speaking to their subjects. American poet, Mary Jo Bang, describes her approach to ekphrastic poems: "I am taking an existing work of art and rewriting over it. I'm imposing a new narrative on it, one that is partially suggested by the artwork itself and partially by something that comes from within. Sometimes that thing is an autobiographical moment, sometimes it's a larger concern, social or political or intellectual."

There are numerous parallels between poetry and painting: they provide a creative means to express emotions. They provide a way for the poet and artist to explore and understand their personal journeys, challenges and successes. They help the creator to look back on works past and clearly comprehend the nexus.

The composition of poetry to that of painting is also similar. Both artist and poet start with an idea, a subject, a theme, or feeling. Then set their brush or pen, to blank canvas or page, and begin the transformative process of bringing that creative inkling into existence. The one work of art generates and interpolates the other creating a shared vision, perception, and insight of both the artist and poet to present a reality that might never be experienced in any other way.

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Ekphrastic poems inevitably address visual and verbal mediums and the translation of image to text. They encourage us to look closely in order to actively see. They heighten the actual artistic experience. They reinforce our visual and verbal literacy skills, and in this image-saturated world being visually literate is more important than ever.

Grace Nichols is a Guyanese poet who lives in Britain. She was invited to serve as poet-in-residence at Tate Britain and was asked to respond to its collection in verse. This challenge completely changed the way she looked at art. “The ability of the artist to transmute paints into forms, shapes and feelings has always been a source of wonder to me. Equally fascinating is the interplay between art-forms - the way poetry, sculpture, music and painting relate to each other. I feel the relationship between painting and poetry is a particularly close one. Both come out of a desire to make something new of the familiar, to capture an experience in a living, concentrated way. Both share a harmony, structure, colour and rhythm; in the compositional balance of a painting, one can almost speak of one colour ‘rhyming’ with another…. The poems I wrote during my residency were not an attempt to explain the paintings, their stories and hidden narratives, but more of an interpretation, a way of seeing and sometimes giving a piece a voice.”

As you read the poems in this anthology, envision the images created by the words.

Did the poet transmute their experience into more than a description? Did you gain a new perspective and insight into the artwork? Did the poem entice you to look at the art work more closely to try and see what the poet saw?

Finally, you are encouraged to write your own ekphrastic poem or poems in response to the works of art. Don’t worry about correct form or not “being a poet”. Simply record how it makes you feel and any sensory impressions it gives you or memories it invokes. Then incorporate this information into different poems about the artwork. Try writing multiple poems creating a different scenario each time—the possibilities are endless.

Remember, you don’t have to write an ode like Keats, just have fun challenging your writing and enjoying the creative processes.

Pam Coffman Curator of Education Museum of Art - DeLand

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Acknowledgments The Poetic Visions Poetry Competition and Exhibition and this anthology are the result of a collaborative project between the Museum of Art - DeLand, and the Creative Happiness Institute, and MainStreet Art & Culture Slam of DeLand. The Museum wishes to recognize and give our sincere thanks to all of the people and organizations who contributed their time, energy and resources to make this collaboration a success.

Thank you to Kevin Campbell, Slam Coordinator. Kevin took on the enormous task of overseeing, coordinating and curating all of the poetry components of the project. It has been his vision, knowledge and countless hours of work that played a key role in making Poetic Visions a reality.

To our five esteemed judges: Dr. David B. Axelrod, Poet Laureate of Volusia County; Mr. Joseph Cavanaugh, Vice-President of The National Federation of State Poetry Societies; Mr. Al Rocheleau, President of the Florida State Poets Association; Dr. Rajni Shankar-Brown, Associate Professor at Stetson University; and Ms. Mary-Anne Westbrook, President of The Tomoka Poets Society, thank you. We appreciate your expertise and generous sharing of your time to review, judge and select the entries for inclusion in this anthology and exhibition.

We also want to acknowledge and thank Ms. Judith Thompson, former President of The Museum of Art – DeLand and Ms. Donna M. Gray-Banks, Director of The F.R.E.S.H. Book Festival, who served as consultants for the project.

Special thanks are in order for the following groups and organizations: Creative Happiness Institute, The Florida State Poets Association, The Florida Writers Association, The Sandcastle Storytellers of DeLand, Tomoka Poets, Poet’s Corner of New Smyrna Beach, and Orlando Area Poets. Their involvement is greatly appreciated.

Finally, thank you to all the writers who submitted poems for the competition and exhibition. For the thirty-four poets whose works are included in the project, congratulations. To those whose creations did not find their way into the exhibit, your works were all exceptional, and we look forward to your participation in future events.

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Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen. ― Leonardo da Vinci

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Poetic Visions Selected Poets Shannon Adams B.J. Alligood Arnaldo Batista Bobbi Baugh Nancy Belle Anderson Shanequa Bernard Lynn Collins Bowen Sonja Jean Craig Marc Davidson Melody Dean Dimick Timothy S. Deary Linda Eve Diamond Aleathia Dupree Dawn Gonzalez Maura Harvey Barbara Huntington Audra Jolliffe

Christopher Jordan Annie Keht Barry Kite Jason Lee Ann Magaha Mary E. McBride Mary C McCarthy Deborah Jean McShane Howard Moon Elaine Person Marguerite Phillips Fran Porter Mary Rogers-Grantham Kristin Suros Mark Andrew James Terry Robyn Weinbaum Jamie L. Williams 8

Betty Press Black College Reunion, 1997 Gelatin silver print

Shannon Adams Not Today Close your ears, my dear Don’t want you to even hear Anything today Maybe tomorrow You can join others and play…

Today, not the day The love inside you Brightens my world on this day You…only will do Only you will do… my dear, I love you truly… forever, always Close your ears, my dear Don’t want you to even see Anything today

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Ellie Barnet Conductor, 2014 Oil on canvas

B.J. Alligood Seaside Eulogy You were the pages of the notebook You were ink flowing from the pen You were words that made the story You were the calming evening zen

We stand ashore and listen Each comber brings a sigh We can’t believe you left us Ever still we wonder why

You sailed the winds of rolling seas You rode the ocean’s crust You always came ashore each time Each time you returned to us

No answers to our questions We can only stand and cry We live each day without you And learn to say goodbye

We gently dropped your ashes in a calm and lapping sea Now you ride the evening currents for all eternity

You were the pages of the notebook You were ink flowing from the pen You were words that made the story You were the calming evening zen

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Les Slesnick Teresa Pacheco, 1991 Chromogenic print

Arnaldo Batista Lost Inheritance My abuela perches proud every time she corrects me on my trilled r’s. It’s tierra not tiara. Burro, not borough.

It’s a tongue exercise I have not mastered, like shivasana or the principles of quantum entanglement.

Mijo, she questions, how is it you can say acquiesce and parallelize, and can’t say the difference between dog and but.

These questions remain questions.

I imagine my abuela sticky, warm like arepas perched in preened elegance wondering how she lost her gringito.

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Richard Frank Into the Mystic, 2003 Watercolor on paper

Bobbi Baugh Crossing the Water Drum-thum Drum-thum Drum-thum Percussive pronouncement of the lake against the bow of the rowboat Drum-thum. Amplified by the Empty roundness of the boat.

Amplified by the rain-dark sky The distant moon Drumbeat reminding the rower. Of the resonant time timpani of the strangeness of setting out to follow reflected light on rough water in blue-black night past history. Past old stories. To land.

Finally. On the narrow rock-beach Where two other boats had landed From their same moon-guided journey.

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Neil Welliver Islands Allagash, 1990 Woodcut on Kizuki Nishinouchi paper

Nancy Belle Anderson Pantaloon Moon Must be this moon.

I’m out of sorts, my good husband too.

His appetite is off. God forbid that saucy widow down at the butcher shop cast a moon spell on my man.

Haven’t I been a good wife these past twenty-seven years?

Making him a strudel now dough thin enough to read a love note through.

Lord have mercy. I sat down to rest before my man comes home and tore my pantaloons from waist to there.

Hung them on the line to air, will sew them tomorrow.

With a hearty, “Hello”, my man comes in from his shift at the mill.

His strong hands cup both full moons.

One eyebrow arches in a question mark, “No pantaloons?”

My own true love’s blue eyes twinkle And a smile to warm a strudel.

Praise God. Your ways are wonderous to reveal.

Thank you for sweet strudel.

Thank you for my man.

Thank you for the night I ripped my pantaloons From waist to there Beneath the pantaloon moon.

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Robert Huff Florida Bay Windows, 1982 Acrylic, pencil, oil on canvas

Shanequa “Nequa Next” Bernard The Mind of A Creative Take a look into the mind of a creative Much like stepping into the twilight zone To some it may seem like total chaos To creatives… it is simply just another day See…we still have to function in this realm While our minds travel to parallel dimensions We then bring back what we find to produce A.R.T. For those who cannot see We break our colors down to geometric shapes for their consumption Even then some colors get lost in translation They wonder…what is going on inside our heads?

But if we showed them would they understand?

Could they truly comprehend?

Take a look into the mind of a creative Much like stepping into the twilight zone To some it may seem like total chaos To creatives… it is simply just another day

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Robert Riggs Siam, circa 1930 Watercolor on paper

Lynn Collins Bowen The Somber Party Outward appearances marred the eve Of each dancer and onlooker’s mood, As fun and pleasure can be deceived When poor ideals are crudely viewed.

Wholesome thoughts plus smiles and glee Help to find a friend, belle or beau.

Relax, enjoy the evening’s company.

Performers and spectators: on with the show!

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Richard Frank Watcher, No date Watercolor on paper

Sonja Jean Craig Splash of Springtime Force Pollen soaked flowers wildly reach out— tickles the nostrils.

Layers of colorful movement blow in the birds flight of vitality.

Black and white owl— harbinger of the night, boldly stares down order.

Song birds warble flower pedals into chaotic passion— where the mastery of berries and leaves weave magical connections.

Father Flamingo pops in his head honks at disciplined wilderness.

Adds his long necked song that wraps around with pleasure.

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Irene Batt Cross My Heart, No date Watercolor

Marc Davidson Waiting Room Maiden, modest, clutches cloth.

Maiden sits and waits for whom?

Caryatid heavy laden stands attendant in the room Many works of art are gathered for potential future showing But they bear a dusty burden as they wait, unseen, unknowing Beauty waits, as does fulfillment for the bold explorer’s whim who seeks out the marble legions standing, waiting in the dim Rank on rank they bide with patience waiting for someone to say “That’s the very marble maiden I am seeking on this day” 17

Jack Mitchell Bill Cratty, 1981 Gelatin silver print

Melody Dean Dimick Running on Air Running on air to get to you.

The quarantine has ended, and my feet won’t touch the ground.

Did you wait for me?

Running on air to be with you.

Been confined and lonely way too long.

Did you wait for me?

Running on air to kiss your heart-shaped lips.

Anticipation propels me—on Mercury’s wings.

Did you wait for me?

Running on air to tell you “I love you” before you can bid me adieu.

Did you wait for me?

Running on air to get to the wedding chapel— in flight mode—airborne—can’t wait to say “I do.”

Elated you waited for me.

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William Wofford Bill and Julie’s, 1995 Watercolor on paper

Timothy S. Deary Those Three Chairs So much depended on those three chairs in front of those windows on the porch.

So many memories were woven around the shadows of the frames of those chairs and with the window open all those conversations traveled into the house and it felt like some cosmic hand framed them and hung them on the walls as picture perfect memories.

Portraits of then, framed for now.

Dreams remembered, born out of conversations had on those three chairs.

They are the birth mother to the past, present and future.

Of all the memories I am most thankful that I memorized the patterns of those shadows on the wall.

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Hiram Williams Head with Mouth, circa 1974 Oil on canvas

Linda Eve Diamond The Future Man Man has evolved

We have excess

beyond the need

of mouth, extra

for that extra ear

teeth, for show

as we like to hear

of biting strength

from just one side.

in rows of brick

We are tired

walls in concrete

of saying don’t

and we are the

believe your eyes

impenetrable

and we’ve seen it all

grinding force

nothing to see here.

suited up for the future, man.

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Larry Griffin Homage to R.D. no. 48, 2002 Mixed media

Aleathia Dupree That Blue Black Love I just want to make my own way To the peak of the mountain top May love continue to Lift me May love continue to Be on top Conquering ALL Obstacles Beneath me.

Most folk only see my blackness But don't ever recognize how blue I truly am Most folk R Quick two triangles!

I say, Most folk are quick to try angles To shape up Their own green opinions And a green opinion, Can sometimes be a bad shape to be in.

See me I make MORE THAN MONEY Those red lines represent the love I made Which is as significant as the blood Pumping through my veins Wish I had more time to focus on that But this world makes it hard for the working...

Man...

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Purvis Young Favorite Things, circa 1995 Paint on found wood

Dawn Gonzalez Gods and Dragons Blindly, we hide beneath the dragon skin. We sin, beneath the questioning of those leading. We begin to peak beneath the silken sheaths of such colorful lies.

Holding our breaths, fighting for their right to breathe fire at any time. We desire freedom, and yet, pray for rains to wash away all that releases us from our binds. They watch, as we confine ourselves behind the heads of dragons and they prey upon us with inverted smiles. The gods, locked away, watch with surprise, avert their eyes, grow sickly pale as we fail to surmise

the dragons are actually inside us. We are beneath nothing; no creature large or small. Nor or we above any at all.

And yet. We fail to see. The only dragons are those we keep beneath our ribcage, holding our hearts hostage. Not seeing open hearts hold the key. No ransom aside from the power we subvert to nonexistent dragons we may never slay.

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Sheila Crawford Somethings Can’t Be Explained, 2001 Inkjet print

Maura Harvey Waiting María Esperanza You stand ready to live Niña blanca Niña hermosa Little bride, morning light Whispers foretell your story Clocks chime and the blossom will fall Taller each day, you learn your life Hold the ropes tight As the ship embarks Entonces un díá las gaviotas te llevarán lejos The gulls will take you up and away You will soar over church tree and clouds Hacia las nubes del alma que te esperan Toward the clouds of your waiting soul.

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Eric Breitenbach Untitled, 1998 Gelatin silver print

Barbara Huntington Mask of Leaves I will hide in the forest in my mask of leaves far from cities of hatred and guilt I will play with wild creatures in my mask of leaves and a deer may appear to nibble my mask or a squirrel jump in my lap And I will sing songs in my mask of leaves in harmony with the birds

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Ramon Carulla Unforgettable Journey, 2011 Oil on canvas

Audra Jolliffe Questions at Night Why is he sleeping? Where are we? Why are we raging and sailing at sea? Why are you backwards with a clown at your back and looking so grumpy at me in my fish hat? Are you displeased with the wings of my dear friend Gertrude and her chicken-like hat? I wish I only knew.

I feel disgusting; my umbrella too small. I think something smells. I afraid this won’t do; it won’t do at all. What’s with the clown holding a rose oh so high, and why are we sailing in a boat at midnight?

I now wonder how we all got into this mess; don’t you wonder also? We aren’t happy not one bit. But you my dear queen with a mask in front of your face, what is it you were saying about this lovely boat race?

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Judith Page Man with Red Eyes #2, circa 1988 Oil on canvas

Christopher Jordan Death Mask I defy Death, by living.

What follows Life, Is dying.

I rise from the Earth, only to, in the end, find it once again.

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Richard Currier Untitled (Self-Portrait), No date Oil on canvas

Annie Keht Labor of Love Sweet offerings I bring Night offerings I bring Burnt offerings I bring

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David Williams Europa, 2007 Acrylic on canvas

Barry Kite Hey, Mr. Tangerine Man...

Soft, yet firm.

Will the sweet juice cure me of

Wet, slippery...

This skin disease and these ugly

The sweet taste fills the air, my tiny nostrils...

Red zits?

How to keep these orange segments together?

What are you laughing at?

And yet balance on this beam,

It's my ears, isn't it?

In my green, hoodie pajamas?

In seconds, I will swing this citrus

I must bring this orange to my village.

Section around and smack that

People are starving, dehydrated, thirsting

Smile off your face.

For the sacred juice of this overlarge orange.

You think I'm joking?

Or tangerine?

Do I look like I'm joking?

Or am I just very small?

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Gary Monroe Misty Country Road, No date Gelatin silver print

Jason Lee AM: Black & White Sullen, gray These mist bourn Mornings Yawning gulfs Like sea, seemingly Limitless Uncharted spans

Shadows and light The interplay of distinctions Grey...

Definitions Crumble And decay Yet we will emerge Like Sun to reveal; Unreachable Horizons once obtuse Now free to be Sought and found Again

Much like the grief within; The seething tides Of sullen Sorrows Drowned Wending tendrils, Amorphous meanings, No signs in sight To assuage These uncertainties Looming

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Donne Bitner Red Rabbit Reflects, No date Mixed media on paper

Ann Magaha Red Rabbit The rabbit, coral as a carrot, chews and eschews a dog, a cat, and two crows.

Grown large like some oblivious, self-serving presence, a politician of the hutch, barely aware of the faint palimpsest of numerals and words, the mere calculations of men.

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Purvis Young Figure Study, circa 1995 Paint on found wood

Mary E. McBride This Pandemic March

Can you see us now?

See our humanity!

We are one species.

We can’t breathe this hate We come from the same garden Adam and Eve’s seeds.

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Carl Knickerbocker Oviedo Lights, 2000 Acrylic on canvas

Mary C McCarthy Friday Night Push hard all week

the swamp gators

for a little time

dangerous as guns

a little space

ready to blast me down

the pay in my pocket

and drag me back

enough to toss

to my place

the blues aside

while I kick myself free

and jump above

into the sky

the hard road

to dance with the drunken moon

the railroad

where even the jealous eye

the river a tangled noose

of God won’t stop me

at my feet

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Caroline Cleere State of Mine, 2009 Mixed media on wood panel

Deborah Jean McShane State of Mine Here, I hold court, Dove, my scepter, dove, my crown, Time stands still.

Paradise is this momentI see a future beckoning, My past out of focus, mattering not.

I hold your gaze, dressed in ballet pink, Sitting on my alligator throne swing, ready to dance when I am so moved.

My land of flowers, My mise-en-scene, captivating.

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Phil Parker Spoken Words Fly Away, circa 2010 Assemblage

Howard Moon A Sorrowful Song A wooden bird Sings a wooden tune A tune filled with Sorrow and pain

Trapped with no Way out Trapped with no Hope of life

The pain that comes From having no heart The pain that comes From never having lived

Forever singing A sorrowful A mournful Wooden tune

They chain me in place Despite my inability To fly off My wings are wooden

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R Alexander Untitled, No date Inkjet print

Elaine Person Motorcycle Man His tight, black Harley Davidson leather pants rubbed thin at the knees, chafed at the thighs strode to the registration table

He held the helmet like a bowling ball, slung low, swinging at his side, wearing boots that looked as old as him, scuffed from adventures unspoken, alone,

and sat. This was the first year he accepted the help of those around him, many of whom he helped to survive.

his worn leather jacket adorned with scratches from run-ins with the road, asphalt, gravel.

His keys jangled as he walked.

Belt slung low tied his life together like an old friend.

Like the war he fought in, he won the battle each time.

Home and abroad, he came out alive.

This day marked the twentieth anniversary of the Veterans Fight Against Cancer Ride.

He always attended, helped thousands of unfortunate ones.

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Les Slesnick La Puerta Verde (The Green Door), 2001 Chromogenic print

Marguerite Phillips Blue Tea We had afternoon tea today.

The table was set in azure, Delft napkins, Dutch china, Cobalt sugar bowl, We nibbled chocolate cake.

A potted ranunculus bloomed among the nick-knacks.

Blue gingham curtains flapped at the open window.

I listened to her poems, She critiqued my watercolors, kindly.

A fountain of yellow forsythia bordered her yard, A gray mourning dove sat on the eve of the house.

She played “Memories” on the spinet.

I sat among the Raggedy Anne dolls, on an indigo Stickley chair, The bombardier smiled down on us.

Such a lovely day for blue tea and chocolate cake.

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Larry Griffin Homage to R.D. no. 17, 2002 Mixed media

Fran Porter My Dream House Like slices of sky precision cut by star blades etched from edges of waterfall rainbows Floating in solar winds cantilever somersaulting through a universe of forces --pushing pulling propelling to the perfect placement --my house of dreams Where all babies are swaddled in peace grandmothers are known for humor and strength Where men are honored for listening and laughing and women don’t have to prove anything to be whole Where sunlight shines within and stars fill in the cracks Everyone has enough because enough is enough for everyone --Always 37

Balcomb Greene The Lady, 1966 Oil on canvas

Mary Rogers-Grantham Birthing Exodus An air of serenity liberates my body, like unwinding morning glories to help me find voice so I can pen notable narratives of who I am.

My passion is like the first woman giving birth to humanity, who launched bloodlines that still ripple like waterways through maps.

My love is steeped in the soul of ancient romance, persevering and immovable as the mystifying prehistoric Stonehenge.

My patience is as novel as the offerings of the Mother Road that takes care of trippers during the trek of their travels.

Serenity is the exodus that walks close to me, so close to me that I can smell the smiles on the other side of through.

I move forward seated while gazing into a consonance of silence, memorizing faces like phrases, prayers and the humming of summer.

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Will Barnet Woman Lying with Parrot, No date Charcoal and mixed media on vellum

Kristin Suros Awakening She rests She believes She sees the evolving world pass her by She believes this and continues to rest A spark ignites With such fervor she no longer can ignore Woman is strong Woman will persevere She will not rest She still believes She sees the world It does not pass her by

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Byron Browne The Tall Pier, 1955 Casein tempera on paper

Mark Andrew James Terry The Scarlet Cutter A cutter cuts with scarlet sails across a tranquil sawgrass sea.

Pa-hay-okee, the old ones say, will take the feral far away, away from here and white tail deer, away from you and me.

Above, The High Clouds Council fails.

They think that boat will pass us by, but even rabbits know the truth, that scarlet has the sharpest tooth, its bite will terrify.

A turquois fish that has no scales is leaning in to see those sails, as profit’s wake in rolling pass invades the tawny ever-grass, and home of quail and snails.

They see conveyer built in haste to offload cargo: fill and waste.

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Carol Elder Napoli Red World, Blue Man, No date Acrylic on paper

Robyn Weinbaum Moving Day They empty my closet

Cookies from a holiday party you never attended.

sorting shirts and pants and dresses

Another plate, another party of one.

into piles for Goodwill or

The freezer is full of cookies

The Women’s Shelter or

Saved from all the parties you

Some Memory Bear.

never attended. You were too busy.

Into the trash.

The papers and books get tossed into a soon-to-be pyre

They divvy up ‘the good stuff’ a la Dickens Third Ghost vision.

Furniture, cookware, tumbled, trashed The fridge. They remove a plate of cookies

You take nothing,

cookies I made, cookies I saved

click the lockbox as you leave.

for you.

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Eleanore Merritt Market Day, No date Acrylic and organic paper on canvas

Jamie L. Williams One Moment in Time An angel at rest, sun-kissed by a suitor’s loving light To the heights of Heaven, her heart hath set a flight Perhaps it could be destiny, a karma of the moment Their gazing eyes in harmony, their souls surely show it An alignment of the planets, an ornamentation of the stars It must be destiny, inevitable fate, all in love’s cause Neither hesitant, neither questioned, not one second to waste Their yearning desires doth indulged in love’s taste Together as one, within the world yet so afar The serendipity shone bright as the incandescent stars As their lips interlock, the air of spring feels their presence Destiny takes hold, yielding an adoration of effervescence Their passions intersect, their bodies entwine A felicitous detonation of cravings align Every possibility, all that one’s eyes could hope to see Is thriving and luminous, in true love’s versatility Just one moment in time was all that was ever needed To see that in all account of time, no other love could be repeated 42

Poetic Visions Judges Dr. David B. Axelrod Mr. Joe Cavanaugh Mr. Al Rocheleau Dr. Rajni Shankar-Brown Ms. Mary-Ann Westbrook Consultant Ms. Donna Gray-Banks Poetic Visions Poetry Contest Curator Kevin Campbell

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Dr. David B. Axelrod, Contest Judge Best known as a poet, Dr. David B. Axelrod is Poet Laureate of Volusia County, Florida. He has also spent over forty years working as an arts administrator. Recipient of three Fulbright Awards and numerous prizes, author of twenty-two books and hundreds of articles, he has taught, advised and assisted over twelve thousand students and individuals. His work has been translated into fifteen languages and he has performed for tens of thousands of people.

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Jack Mitchell Bill Cratty, 1981 Gelatin silver print

Dr. David B. Axelrod The Flying Dream I float mid-air as my foot can’t find the stair.

It’s my favorite dream.

Others, rushing with rumpled suit and tie, are frantic they may miss a meeting. I test invisible wings, rise over house tops, tall trees In life, I’m Wile E. Coyote—prone to long falls, dumb crashes.

Quickly, retake my photo— a stop-motion picture of me beeping down no particular road, grinning like a bird.

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Mr. Joe Cavanaugh, Contest Judge Joe Cavanaugh began his career by accepting President Kennedy’s challenge to help build a better world by serving in the Peace Corps. He is the author of four poetry books, Poetry Jam with Toast and Tea, California Dreamin’, Love Happens A Target on my Chest, and Transcendental Targets, Searching for the Ecstatic in a Cloud of White Butterflies. He served as President of the Florida State Poets Association for four years and is currently a Vice President of the National Federation of State Poetry Societies. He is a 2016 recipient of the Creative Happiness Institute’s Community Service Award for his volunteer service to poetry and the greater community. He is the first and current Chairmen of the BlackBerry Peach Poetry Prizes. He lives in Ormond Beach, Florida, and is a member of the Daytona Live Poets.

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Balcomb Greene The Lady, 1966 Oil on canvas

Joe Cavanaugh MY PORTRAIT OF YOU MY VISION OF YOU

YOUR DISAPPEARANCE

IS FADING FROM VIEW

INEVITABLE AS NIGHT OVERCOMES

YOUR SWEET GENTLE SMILE

THE DYING LIGHT

YOUR PROUD WARM BREASTS

YOUR EXTERIOR SLIPS

YOUR NAKED SHOULDER

AWAY FROM ME NOW

REMINDERS OF YOUR UNQUENCHABLE PASSION

YOUR INNER BEAUTY

REPLACED BY SHADOWS

ALIVE IN MY HEART MY VISION OF YOU FADES INTO DEEP BLUE I’M LEFT WITH THIS PORTRAIT AND MY LOVE FOR YOU ARE WHATS LEFT OF YOU 47

Mr. Al Rocheleau, Contest Judge President, Florida State Poets Association (FSPA); Founder and Director, The Twelve Chairs Advanced Poetry Course (180 Hours) and The Twelve Chairs Short Course (12 Hours), both accredited by FSPA; lecturer, University of Massachusetts-Dartmouth; Emerson College; University of Florida-Oak Hammock; Florida State Poets Association; Florida Writers Association; has published more than 200 poems and translations in more than a hundred national and international publications; recipient, Thomas Burnett Swann Award (2004); nominee, Forward Poetry Prize (U.K.) (2018); author, On Writing Poetry (2009), listed as #15 in bookauthority.org’s “75 Best Poetry Writing Books of All Time”; and Falling River: Collected Poems, 1976-2016 (2017).

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Eric Breitenbach Untitled, 1998 Gelatin silver print

Al Rocheleau A Botany of Faces Some has to fall from a tree, glisten from the wet of morning, turn yellow from the month when heaven’s awning splits in the cooling light, crisps into November under our feet, makes good masks to hide our own unchanging colors from each other in our coven of the bond of play, this, that allows the fall to be the fall, to be something good to the children that matter, that children are all of the matter, equally inventive and precious, in the saturnine wood.

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Dr. Rajni Shankar-Brown, Contest Judge Dr. Rajni Shankar-Brown is an Associate Professor, the Endowed Chair of Social Justice Education, and a recipient of the Hand Award for Distinguished Faculty Achievement at Stetson University. She serves on the Executive Board of Directors for the National Coalition for the Homeless. Her collection of poetry Tuluminous (released January 2020) has been praised as “a marvelous and meaningful testimony of the power of language to heal and transform” by the Presidential Inaugural Poet, Richard Blanco, and Dr. Shankar-Brown is described as the “Poet Laureate of the just society” by NYU’s Moral Courage Project Founder, Irshad Manji. She now serves as the Executive Director of the Poverty and Homelessness Conference, the Faculty Advisor for the Student Homeless Coalition, the Co-Director for Acts of Kindness and Justice, a member of the Nina B. Hollis Institute for Educational Reform, a member of the Homeless Education Steering Committee, and an international ambassador for educational justice. She was selected as the 2019 Educator of the Year by the FL Chapter of Kappa Delta Pi International Honor Society of Education.

Additionally, she received the Engaged Scholar Award by the Florida Campus Compact, the Inclusive Excellence Award by the University of North Carolina Wilmington, and a summer Scholar Fellowship by the National Humanities Center. Her book series Bending the Arc Towards Justice: Equity-Focused Practices for Educational Leaders and Re-Envisioning Education: Affirming Diversity and Advancing Social Justice are currently under contract with Information Age Press.

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Eric Breitenbach Untitled, 1998 Gelatin silver print

Dr. Rajni Shankar-Brown Last Words I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe…

Eric Garner. Freddie Gray. Sandra Bland. Philando Castile.

Hector Arreola. Melissa Ventura. Korryn Gaines. Leon Ford.

Elijah McCain. Tamir Rice. Breonna Taylor. George Floyd.

Many more. Immeasurably precious; lives taken. Dreams deprived of air and wings. Last words haunt us on repeat: I can’t breathe. Racial terror is raging. No justice, no sabbath; No sabbath, no peace. Lord, holy Sunday, there is no justice. No sabbath. Jacob Blake shot seven times by a white veteran police officer. Instead of serving and protecting, the cop incapacitated and shot. Seven bullets. Directly in his 29year-old dorsum. His vertebral column. His home to a magically engineered spinal cord and reflex arcs.

The neural tube that creates and plays rhythm. Connecting brain and body. Allowing us to move freely; to walk towards sunlight; to dance under the moon. Fired his neural tube silent. Bleeding out of holes. Leaking gunpowder and cordite. Jacob Blake, unarmed. Jacob Blake, a father, a son, a grandson, a fiancée. A human being. Brutally shot seven times in his back. Now paralyzed waist down. Three of his sons, not even a decade old, bearing witness. His little boys, 3, 5, and 8, screaming. Terrified and traumatized.

Asking whys no one should ever have to ask. “Why they shoot my daddy?” Crying tsunamis as they witness their lifeline collapse face down on pavement. I can’t breathe. The global COVID-19 pandemic is raging. Coronavirus spreading; systemic inequalities; magnified disparities. Black and Brown bodies disproportionately dying. I can’t breathe. Our world is on fire. Storms are raging. California skies crimson with wildfires. Blurred full of smoke. Hazy and raining ashes. Thousands of acres full of life, scorched.

Colorful palettes, dried out and crumbled. Vast stretches of lush land, now charcoal debris. Our lungs have become daily battleground. Last words that haunt us on repeat: I can’t breathe. Only each I is in fact We, Ubuntu wisely reminds us; and We are one, Sangha sings sagely at sunrise. It is time to reimagine.

To reconstruct our lung sacs; overflow them with radical love and hope. 2020 has unleashed a tidal wave of grief. We gasp; in dire need of a unified ventilator. To restore oxygen; prana. So we may be shores for each other and our tears. Loving fiercely together. Extending strong-deep-roots. Birthing justice. Growing peace So we may again know Shabbat and Sabbath, Moksha and Nirvana. So we may forge new last words. As we say their names, honor their lives, hold our children. Last words that affirm us on repeat: I can breathe; when you can breathe.

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Ms. Mary-Ann Westbrook, Contest Judge Mary-Ann Westbrook is President of Tomoka Poets Society in Ormond Beach, has served as Secretary and President of Florida state Poets Association and is Vice President of Creative Happiness Institute which sponsors all the Arts. She has written and performed poetry for Sister Cities of Volusia County events, Halifax Historical Society and Museum, City of Port Orange's Annual Celebration of Freemanville, Flagler County Library's Poetry Month event and Seaquills Writing Group of Flagler County Poetry Month readings. She has had poetry displayed at the Ormond Beach Library, Ormond Beach Museum of Art, Flagler County Art League in Palm Coast and will have at The Art of Poetry, Sculpture and Poetry Show at The Art League of Daytona Beach. Mary-Ann has read poetry on WELE Radio Station in Ormond Beach, emceed and featured area poets on the Atticus Black Show. She has acted as judge for local poetry contests, several States Poetry Societies contests as well as the National Federation of State Poetry Societies annual contest. She has been published in the newspaper as well as many anthologies and reads poetry at open mics in the area.

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Judith Page Man with Red Eyes #2, circa 1988 Oil on canvas

Mary-Ann Westbrook The Eyes of the Ages Earth has gone through many changes Each one frightening Each one necessary Each one better than the last Born millions of years ago his structure is solid, tough, strong and trusting With magma eyes showing fear confusion, anger and love he waits for each passage to show its demeanor Waits to see if this is The One.

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Ms. Donna Gray-Banks, Writing Consultant Ms. Gray-Banks is the Founder and Director of the F.R.E.S.H. Book Festival, one of the largest book festivals for minority self-published authors in Florida. The Festival began in 2011; the City of Daytona Beach began sponsorship of the Festival in 2012. In 2013, the festival added jazz, poetry and a film to the weekend activities held in January each year.

The festival has continued to grow since its beginnings with authors from six different states participating in 2020. Ms. Gray-Banks is the author of a highly successful suspense erotic trilogy, “Ila’s Diamonds I, II, and III” and is currently working on her IV novel “The House That Jack Built”. Donna is the Executive Director of the Midtown Community Development Corporation and is the host of a weekly radio show “A F.R.E.S.H. Conversation” on Joy 106.3 FM Daytona Beach, Monday nights from 8-9 p.m.

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Balcomb Greene The Lady, 1966 Oil on canvas

Donna Gray-Banks Ila’s Diamonds It was because I remembered what it was like before….

How you placed your hand on the small of my back and lead me into a room.

How you looked at other women but always looked back at me as if to say…just looking How you wanted to spend time with me and only me….no one else How you made me feel like our conversations were inspiring, but we were just talking about Soul Train…

How you wanted to make love to me endlessly It was because I remembered what it felt like before…

It was because I remembered how you hurt me before…

It was because I remembered.

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Kevin Campbell, 2020 Poetic Visions Poetry Contest Curator Kevin W. Campbell (aka NoirJente) is a resident of DeLand and an accomplished writer, poet and spoken word artist. He has featured and performed poetry all over the country.

His work has appeared in several anthologies, most notably The Journal For Human Advancement (2010) and Spoken Ink: Vol. 1 (2014). He is also the author of the chapbook, Sadoto (2014). Mr. Campbell has served as Slam Coordinator of Mainstreet Art and Culture Slam of DeLand since 2014 and has served as Slam Coordinator of both the Florida State Poets Association and the Creative Happiness Institute since 2015. Through his work in poetry slam, he has helped facilitate the dreams of countless poets and writers who have represented DeLand, Volusia County, and Central Florida in over two dozen regional and national poetry competitions and festivals. Mr. Campbell is an activist and sits on the board of directors of the African-American Museum of Arts of DeLand. Look for his latest poetry collection, Ruby and Blood and Salt, in the near future.

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Richard Currier Untitled (Self-Portrait), No date Oil on canvas

Kevin W. Campbell (aka NoirJente) Gunslinger In Autumn ‘Til the autumn of life, one could never discern how the time of a reckoning surely would come, when the deeds of the past could not help but return.

For the seeds of the future were not youth’s concern, nor the fruit of misdeeds or the heart that grew numb ‘til the autumn of life one could never discern.

In abandon, he rambled to plunder and burn without care for laws or the justice to be done when the deeds of the past could not help but return.

The outlaw skin proved arduous to shed or spurn and yet somehow, he grew to love the earth and sun ‘til the autumn of life one could never discern.

He saw his bitterness as what he must unlearn, that perhaps making life could serve to save him from when the deeds of the past could not help but return.

Now he knows sweetness: melon, mango, and pear yearn to naysay bygone days that meant the end to some.

For in the autumn of life one may not discern when the deeds of the past might not help but return.

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Poets’ Biographies

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Shannon Adams Shannon has been writing poetry since she was a little girl. She found her passion as a singer-songwriter 5 years ago. She joined the Poet’s Corner group of New Smyrna Beach several years ago in hopes of writing better songs.

B.J. Alligood Award winning poet, B.J. Alligood, is the first-place recipient of the national 2019 Blackberry Peach Poetry Prize. Her work has appeared in Revelry, Meridian Anthology, Kaleidoscope: Exploring Disability through Literature and the Fine Arts, Poetry to Feed the Spirit and Negative Capability among numerous other anthologies. She has garnered many wins in various state and national contests and has read her work at schools, libraries, television and radio.

She has been hosting the monthly Tomoka Poets Open Mic Night for over ten years at differing venues in the greater Daytona Beach area.

Arnaldo Batista Arnaldo Batista graduated Florida International University with a degree in Interdisciplinary Studies and Physics, with a certificate in National Security. He is a queer, polyglot, Gen Z South Floridian poet with a passion for language. Arnaldo Batista has been published in Lucky Jefferson’s literary journal and is a finalist for Gival Press’s Oscar Wilde Poetry Prize of 2020. Arnaldo Batista plans to take on the MFA Creative Writing program at FIU in the Fall of 2021 in order to hone his craft to amplify voices this country needs during these times.

Bobbi Baugh Bobbi Baugh has lived in DeLand since 1972 when she came to Stetson University as a freshman. Following a thirty-year career in commercial printing and product design, Bobbi now works full-time as a studio artist. She creates textile collage artworks and art quilts. Active in the DeLand community, Bobbi is a volunteer at Starke Elementary, a member of the DeLand Breakfast Rotary Club, a volunteer for the Fall Festival of the Arts, DeLand and a past president of both the Fall Festival and the DeLand Museum of Art. Bobbi enjoys reading and writing poetry.

Nancy Belle Anderson Nancy is a retired Volusia County teacher who is a former snowbird come home to roost in Deltona. She is a storyteller of original works with the Sandcastle Storytelling Guild of DeLand. She is delighted to be finally free to pursue creative interests.

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Shanequa “Nequa Next” Bernard Shanequa Bernard is currently a graduate student at the Rosen College of Hospitality Management. Her goal is to optimize the bridge between the hospitality industry and the performing arts. She was the recipient of UCF’s Keeper of the Creativity Creed Award (2013) for the use of her writing to enrich the human experience.

Lynn Collins Bowen I am a naturalized citizen from Quebec. My family moved to Illinois when I was six. Later in life, I lived in other states, but have happily been in beautiful Florida for 24 years. I am married and have one daughter in Illinois. Before retirement, I worked many years as a secretary and two years for the Beacon full time, then part time there for eight years. Here in town I have volunteered for the Boys and Girls Club for five years, Good Samaritan Clinic in the file room for two years and Blue Lake Elementary School as a teacher’s helper for five years and worked week ends at Hontoon Island State Park store for two years. I am a nature lover and writer and enjoy being busy.

Sonja Jean Craig Award winning poet Sonja Jean Craig integrates the poetic perspective as a vehicle for her journey of spiritual mastery. Her New Smyrna Beach home gratifies her love of nature. Sonja Jean’s unique observations are celebrated worldwide through various online communities, as well as with local organizations.

She is a proud member of Florida State Poets Association, Florida Writers Association, National State Poets Association and Poets Corner, as well as being the initiator of The New Smyrna Beach Poet Society. They have been co-hosting writing prompts with The Hub on Canal for exhibits at the Fine Art Photography Gallery. She is an avid supporter and patron of the arts. The arts are a pallet for her own creative work. She often collaborates with other artists, adding her poetry to create videos, sound art and performance art. Her deck of guidance cards, A Love Affair with Life, incorporates her photography and images of her collage art with her poetic musings. Sonja Jean brings into form the aesthetic of her poetic insights enhancing a life filled with beauty and magic.

Marc Davidson Marc has been a journalist, a poet and an art dealer, among other things. He was born and raised in Daytona Beach, and is currently enjoying his retirement and the opportunity to see interesting new artworks and write poems about them.

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Melody Dean Dimick Award-winning author Melody Dean Dimick is the current president of the Florida Writers Foundation, a not-for-profit organization formed to promote literacy. She is also a member of the Florida Writers Association, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, the Florida Authors and Publishers Association, the Daytona Writers Guild, and the Florida State Poets Association.

Dimick, the winner of three Royal Palm literary awards from the Florida Writers Association, is represented by literary agent Joyce Sweeney of the Seymour Literary Agency. The author and her photographer-author husband, Barry Dimick, reside in Lake Helen, Florida. Follow Melody Dean Dimick at www.melodydeandimick.com.

Timothy S. Deary I am a husband, a father, a teacher and a lifelong learner. I draw on all my roles for inspiration and guidance when I write. As a husband I am inspired by my wife’s resilience and devotion, as a father my children inspire me daily with their curiosity and as a teacher and learner, I am constantly looking for inspiration and its lessons.

Linda Eve Diamond Linda Eve Diamond is a Florida-based poet whose works have been published by “The Ekphrastic Review,” “Encore: Prize Poems,” High Shelf Press,” “Poets Reading the News” and elsewhere. Her poetry has been honored with several awards, including a Dancing Poetry Grand Prize award from Artists Embassy International. Find her poetry books and more at http://LindaEveDiamond.com.

Aleathia Dupree Aleathia “GG” Dupree is a mother and Orlando native. Her versatility as an entertainer has manifested itself in beauty pageants, stage plays and movies, music production, and as a writer both of hip hop and formal poetry. In addition to being a published poet, she was a member of the Orlando National team (Oakland 2015) and represented Orlando later that year at the Individual World Poetry Slam (Washington, DC 2015). She repeated the feat the next year, representing DeLand at the Women of the World Poetry Slam (Brooklyn 2016) then making DeLand’s National team (Decatur 2016). She holds the rare distinction of having represented 2 different certified poetry venues as both an individual and as a team member in international poetry competitions.

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Dawn Gonzalez Dawn Gonzalez is an aspiring poet who has been reading and writing poetry as a hobby since she was about nine years old. In April of 2018, her poem, Guilt, was published online by Ancient Paths Literary Magazine. Currently she is writing her first book of poetry entitled Star Gazing; Rebellion of Stars with hopes of becoming published within the next several months. She is the mother of two amazing, creative children whose own love of writing their own poetry stems from listening to Shel Silverstein on cd as young kiddoes. She is currently excited about plans to facilitate creative writing workshops for local homeschoolers to foster the love of poetry within other children.

Maura Harvey Maura Harvey is a bilingual poet, author and artist who has lived in California since 1950. She holds a Ph.D. in Latin American Literature from UC Irvine. Her poetry in both Spanish and English has appeared widely. Dr. Harvey is a founder of Taller del mar, a monthly poetry workshop with members from Tijuana and San Diego. She feels very proud to have published a poetry anthology in Barinas, Venezuela, in 1993 and to have been able to meet Venezuelan and Cuban poets personally while travelling in those countries. She has exhibited her art in many venues in California and had a show in Instanbul, Turkey, in 2006. She joined the editorial board of the California Quarterly in 1999, editing many issues and serving for years also as Secretary of the CSPS and as the CSPS Annual Contest Chair.

Barbara Huntington It took Barbara Huntington a long time to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up and she may still be searching. For now she writes poetry, flash fiction, and memoir. Her blog is https:// barbarahuntington.com.

Audra Jolliffe I’m a kid at heart. I love those lollipops that have the bubble gum in the middle, especially the green apple kind. I love to laugh with anyone who wants to laugh. I also like to run (but not with scissors), create art, and make lots of memories travelling with my family.

Christopher Jordan Resident of DeLand since 1981. Resident of Florida since 1959. Resident of Earth since 1957. Been in private practice in DeLand as Doctor of Chiropractic since 1981. Have enjoyed various art forms since I could hold a crayon, drum on tabletops, sing in grade-school choir, play the guitar, build sandcastles, write.

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Annie Keht Annie Keht was born and educated in Paris, France. She moved to the United States and continued her studies in New York. She obtained her Master’s Degree in French Literature. She is also a classical trained pianist and enjoyed many volunteer activities. She currently lives in Deltona.

Barry Kite I began my first round of poetry writing/performing in 1975 in the San Francisco area as a wannabe beatnik/hippie. After about a year I segued into my current photo collage art form which I refer to as visual poetry, reducing my writing to titles for the next 43 years. I returned to the spoken/written word 2 years ago re-discovering the power of the poem. I have published two books which involve my illustrating these poems, reversing my process of using words (titles) to augment the visual. I am the artist/owner/poet of Aberrant Art Gallery in Daytona Beach for the past 10 years.

Jason Lee Jason Lee has been writing poetry consistently for over 20 years, but only began sharing his work freely in the last few. He blends a classic sensibility with modern free verse in much of his work that often highlights the contrasts in life.

He recognizes the influences of such writers as Marge Piercy and Sylvia Plath, as well as those of Charles Baudelaire and Pablo Neruda.

He is grateful for the encouragement and help of a handful of fellow writers and creatives who have continued to challenge him to continue writing and pursue excellence in his craft.

Ann Magaha Ann Magaha enjoyed a long career as a professor of English, drama, and speech. In her retirement she writes plays, lectures on literary subjects, judges competitions for the Florida Writers Association, and plays bridge.

Mary E. McBride I am an artist and writer. When choosing which would take top billing, I chose artist because I have dyslexia and cannot spell. So that has been my main focus, however, I always wrote stories and poetry from an early age and that has never stopped. When the paint brush or sewing needle fails me, my words (now blessed with word check) always come through to express my deepest needs of expression.

Mary C McCarthy Mary C McCarthy has always been a writer but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. Her work has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including Third Wednesday, Earth’s Daughters, and The Ekphrastic Review. Her digital chapbook, “Things I Was Told Not to Think About,” is available as a free download from Praxis magazine.

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Deborah Jean McShane Deborah McShane is a theater artist and retired schoolteacher. She is currently working on the show, “Ladies Taking Liberties,” a production to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the passage of the 19th Amendment.

Howard Moon Howard Moon had a career as a broadcaster (radio announcer) and professional writer. He wrote for a variety of different corporations. In addition, he has been published in PhotoMethods, Fire Chief and Fire Engineering magazine, and was the staff writer for Today In Ocala. His work has appeared online at Folks Magazine. He was a columnist and Op Ed writer for the Ocala Star Banner and his writing has also appeared in the National Catholic Reporter and Small Change newspapers. Howard is retired and living in central Florida. He now spends his time writing poetry and flash fiction.

Elaine Person Elaine Person, writer, instructor, editor, speaker, performer, and photographer has writing included in Random House’s A Century of College Humor, Florida Writers Association’s collections, The Florida Writer magazine, Sandhill Review, Not Your Mother’s Book, Poets of Central Florida, Haikuniverse.com, The Five-Two, and Florida State Poets Association’s annual anthologies, which she co-edits.

Elaine won the Saturday Evening Post limerick contest. Elaine received awards from National Federation of State Poetry Societies, Florida State Poets Association, East Lake County Library, and other honors.

She writes “Person”alized poems and stories for all occasions for gifts.

Marguerite Phillips As a poet, essayist and short story writer it is great fun to expand my message with an illustration. My interpretation of the world around us may not be what your eye sees but what my mind interprets. Images such as abstract and fine art often inspire me. One of the reasons I live in Deland is the access to art festivals and the museum.

Fran Porter I have been sewing most of my life and still enjoy making commemorative quilts and art quilts celebrating memorable journeys. Through my service as a Volunteer Child Advocate for the Guardian ad Litem program, I continue my deep connection with children. Two new passions lift my life --- my experiences with art through becoming a docent for the Museum of Art - DeLand and jumping into the world of poetry. After a six-week class, four other women and I have met weekly to read, study and write poetry for nine years, bringing a richness to our lives beyond any expectation. Three of my poems were published in Stonepile Writers’ Anthology, University Press of North Georgia, 2013.

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Mary Rogers-Grantham Mary Rogers-Grantham is the Academic Success Coordinator and Professor at Flagler College in St. Augustine, Florida. Her books of poetry include Under a Daylight Moon and When the Sun Sails.

Kristin Suros I enjoy reading and drawing/painting, as well as being in nature. I’ve lived in Central Florida for approximately 6 years with my husband and 2 young daughters.

Mark Andrew James Terry Mark Andrew James Terry lives in Orlando, Florida, with his wife Jane and two grown children, George and Jillian. Currently, he serves as the editor of the Florida State Poets Association publication Of Poets & Poetry and is a partner in the firm TKO, an advertising agency focused on branding. Mark has a passion for all things aesthetic including poetry, art, and music. He is a graduate of Rhodes College, and recently self-published a memoir in prose and poetry titled Magnolia’s Bloom.

Robyn Weinbaum Robyn has been writing poetry since she could hold a crayon. When she isn’t writing poetry, flash fiction, travel articles, or penalty abatement letters to the IRS, she is riding her bicycle, while making notes on future pieces. Robyn is currently working on a collection of poetry, an anthology of intertwined short stories, and co-writing an alphabet medley with her children. She has won numerous awards for poetry, and for her fiction. When she grows up, she will have purple hair. Or blue. Or teal. Or none.

Jamie L. Williams Jamie Williams is an award-winning integrated marketing communications strategist specializing in fine arts and culture. Arts organizations Jamie has worked with include the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts, ARTicles Art Gallery, James Museum of Western & Wildlife Art, and Leslie Curran Gallery. Jamie is an arts advocate and collector, and can often be found attending art fairs, receptions, and openings at art museums/galleries near and far. Jamie also enjoys architectural photography, reading, playing piano, interior design, and his two Siamese cats. Engage with Jamie on Instagram @JamieLeeWilliams.

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...and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough? ― Vincent van Gogh

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