oregonpoetry

Hiraeth from an Oregon beach to a lost island by Amelia Díaz Ettinger I return to the image of a sky that devoured an ocean, and an ocean that splits my ghosts from the living.   Not by cloud or breath can I touch those faces, faded along with their voices, a choice I made

Judge’s comments The ghazal entries arrived on my doorstep while I had the flu. My first reading of these beautiful poems cheered, lifted, and helped heal me—so much wisdom and craft! Such deep feeling and acute intelligence! Because of the high quality of entries, though, selecting the winners and honorable mentions was difficult, requiring many,

Falling Stars by Meli Broderick Eaton right there in the hidden chambers of your heart I was born before I was born where your muscles squeezed with apprehension, where your pulse drummed its anticipation and you knew me before you knew me   when you called for my light to paint a new trail in

Poet bio Peter Schettkoe is a romantic nature writer of everyday suburbia with an awakeness to life surrounding, searching for the pure-heart of humanity that seems elusive these days. In between putting together his second poetry manuscript, Peter can be found posting some works on instagram @words.oh.words.  

All eyes by Linda Golaszewski What imagines happening behind these eyes the ability to regenerate cell after cell core after core spurting a leaf a branch a new found strength the push through the soil rekindles photosynthesis the dark night of the earth  no barrier to the present urge push the way of the seed

Honorable mentions: 1st Honorable Mention: “Freefall” by Lucy Cotter, Portland, OR 2nd Honorable Mention: “Question for Mary Oliver” by Linda Budan, Newberg, OR 3rd Honorable Mention: “Gefilte Fish” by Barry Vitcov, Ashland, OR Judge’s comments The work in the New Poets category was a joy to encounter. As a judge for this category, I was

Lake Ridge Drive by Jennifer Dorner Sometimes when I pull into the drive and look up at the brown gable over the garage and see the shades closed against the exterior light and the dirt patch we mean to plant, and the two wiry red shrubs (what are they?) in the corner, I fall into

Birding by Carol Lantz We expect them to be there in all the right places, just as they were last spring, just as they’ve always been— finches, warblers, wrens… teasing us with wing bars streaked breasts eye rings.   But do we stop to ponder how far the birds have flown, the hazards they’ve encountered