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NCPS at Cary Arts Center (2)
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Has this old Cary High School building ever before been filled with such light and creativity? Standing just inside the high windowed doors, I see Joan Barasovska and Kathy Ackerman greeting arrivals. In a moment they will look up at smile at me. To my left Deb Doolittle stands in quiet contemplation of the long table where authors display their books. A few meters behind Joan, beside the large coffee tureen, is the lavish spread of fruit and pastries Chad Knuth has prepared – I wish I hadn’t eaten that protein bar during the 2+ hour drive from Elkin. All around me people are coming together and dispersing only to regroup, old friends and new acquaintances simmering with excitement and joy. It is already a great morning for poetry.
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Each September at its fall meeting the North Carolina Poetry Society features readings by the winners of the following contests:
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Brockman-Campbell Book Award: for the best book of poetry published by a North Carolina author in the preceding year.
Lena Shull Manuscript Award: for a manuscript by a North Carolina author; the winning book is published by NCPS.
Susan Laughter Meyers Poetry Fellowship: an annual residency and honorarium offered to one North or South Carolina poet.
Randall Jarrell Poetry Prize (sponsored by North Carolina Writers’ Network): for an individual poem by a North Carolina author.
Jaki Shelton Green Performance Poetry Award (co-sponsored by North Carolina Literary Review at East Carolina University and NCPS): for an individual poem recited / performed.
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In 2023 the September meeting was held at the NC Museum of Art in Raleigh, in 2024 at the NC Arboretum in Asheville, and this year’s meeting on September 13 was at the Cary Arts Center. Since 1939 the building served as the (former) Cary High School and is now on the national registry of historic places. Today’s and last Friday’s post feature some of the poetry shared by the 2025 winners; see the
post from September 26 for more photos and poetry offerings!
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The Way I Love Him in Durham
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Now, when we argue, he yells,
Why don’t you love me the way you did in Rome?
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He means: the way we got lost
in the Gallery of Maps on the way
to the Sistine Chapel, how we’d drink
Aperol at breakfast, filled our days
with too many Caravaggios and Berninis.
The way my mouth was so open
to his at the Vatican. How we explored
the Forum and imagined the games
of the Colosseum: venationes, naumachia.
How we stuffed our bellies
with black ink pasta, ox, and marrow.
The way we escaped a thunderstorm
under an awning and kissed
while lightning lit the Pantheon.
Our joy buying a wool hat
in the Campo de’ Fiori at the stone
feet of the first martyr of science.
How our bodies fit as we descended
into the Capuchin’s crypt of pelvises,
the dark ossuary that left us humble and mortal.
How crossing the Tiber to Trastevere
meant we’d soon make love in our cellar
apartment below young drunk revelers.
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The way I love him in Durham
is washing sheets and dishes,
grocery shopping and cooking,
waiting until dinner to uncork wine.
A slow dance on the patio to The Smiths
under the crisscross of air traffic.
The commutes and kids tiring our libidos,
watching him fall asleep to sci-fi.
I know the pink scars over his heart
as if they were my monogram.
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We wait for the sign, the burning
of our bread, of our ballots,
for which color smoke rises out of us.
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Claudine Moreau
from
Demise of Pangaea,
Main Street Rag Publishing, Charlotte NC, © 2024; finalist for the
Brockman Campbell Book Award of the North Carolina Poetry Society.
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Claudine Moreau teaches physics and astronomy at Elon University and also serves as faculty director of a first-year student neighborhood. Someday she hopes to retire on a mountaintop where the sky is dark enough to see the Milky Way. She has also published the chapbook Dark Machines, Fugitive Poets Press, © 2012.
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Claudine Moreau
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Our History Revealed
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The foundation of our nation is built on the backs and bones of African Americans
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Our Heart, Hands, Blood, Sweat, Tears and Intellect all serving as fertilizer to a burgeoning country
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Our Ancestors’ Grave Sacrifices and Noble Contributions must be Revealed and Recognized
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Consequently we employ the Power of the Fine Arts
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As palette is to canvass
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Documenting Our Pain
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Commemorating Our Achievements
and Celebrating Our Triumphs
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Because History, like the Arts is a Living, Breathing entity
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Unceasing and Beautiful when the Majesty of all the Shades and Tones of the African Diaspora, are TRULY Represented
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Dionne D. Hunter
Performed at Cary Arts Center on September 13, 2025; Second Place Winner in the 2025 Jaki Shelton Green Performance Poetry Award.
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As a United States Navy Veteran, mother of two, and grandmother of four, Dionne Hunter has gravitated to Spoken Word as an expression of her emotions and ideals. Her work has been included in anthologies published by Writing Knights, The Poet’s Haven, and Crisis Chronicles Press. Contact:
http://www.dionnehunter.com
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Dionne Hunter
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Other winners of this year’s JSG awards are JeanMarie Olivieri, Marcial CL Harper, and (not pictured) Asthma Olajuwon. (
Contest guidelines here.)
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JeanMarie Olivieri
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Marcial CL Harper
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Core
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Papa, you tailor your trousers with spider silk.
So many bottled nectars on bronze carts
flank your marble table, pour down
the slender throats of your petal-gowned women.
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Papa, I am a stemless apple.
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Papa, no ice and alcohol
could help me drizzle a glass.
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Papa, you open my skull with an Alaskan blade.
So many blossoms crammed there,
Papa, and they will fly out in the perfumed,
string-quartet wind and I will be
a dark bowl of bone.
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Papa, there is pollen on your hand.
That hum is not your pale-haired companion.
Papa, the bees are coming.
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Becky Nicole James – finalist for the Lena Shull Manuscript Award
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Becky Nicole James holds an MFA from Queens University. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in many publications including
MARGIE, Echo Ink Review,
Illumen, and
Moon City Review. Contact:
https://beckynicolejames.com/
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Becky Nicole James
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Toolbox
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Tan leather scraps
cover brass grommets,
rusted finishing nails,
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a small bag of thumbtacks
bound by sea-green rubber
band,
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single-edge Gem blades,
a boxed emery stone:
Use only light machine oil.
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Deeper –
bristly twine,
household cord,
looped and neatly bound
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like his favorite
sky-blue tie,
knotted four-in-hand.
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Charles Wheeler – finalist for the Lena Shull Manuscript Award
Toolbox is from his unpublished manuscript East of Candor, and was first published in Pinesong 2016, the annual anthology of North Carolina Poetry Society contest winners.
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Charles Wheeler
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Thicket
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– Guilford Courthouse National Military Park, NC, 2021
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Cutting crosswise through the battlefield
on narrow trails I realize I’m lost, not lost
but can’t tell where I am, the smooth
dotted and dashed lines on my folded map
untranslatable to this hill, this stream, this woods.
The bright moment, a leaf twirling down, a lurch
of tiny fear and I think then, on this very ground,
they couldn’t see the line that was coming,
only they knew it was. I’ve gone to ground
in my new world, as if I hoped to glimpse myself
in the quiet face of some particular earth,
or as if the trace of those distant lives
might slide wide like a curtain. . . . But I get lost
every time, until I wonder if disorientation
is my true condition. I think disoriented:
unable to find the east. Still I found my way here,
homed but unfamiliar, a southern campaign
of red dirt and magnolia. Meeting my own mind
again in the vital thicket. What did those men
watch and listen for, to steady them? What call
do I wait for now, what drumbeat, what rising?
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Anne Myles – finalist for the Susan Laughter Meyers Poetry Fellowship
Thicket first appeared in Pinesong 2022, the annual anthology of NC Poetry Society contest winners, and in Anne’s book Late Epistle, Sappho’s Prize, Headmistress Press, 2023.
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Anne Myles is Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Northern Iowa and holds an MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. Originally from New York, she lives in Greensboro with her greyhound and cats. She has also published
What Woman That Was: Poems for Mary Dyer, Final Thursday Press, 2022. Contact:
http://annemyles.com.
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Anne Myles
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A grieving of a tree
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When the chainsaw begins,
I sit at our small round kitchen table
over a bowl of oatmeal, alone
with only the whir of fridge, view
of backyard grass, bushes, pine straw.
At the buzzing, I know they’ve come
for the Bradford pear tree next door.
Invasive species, spreads in forests,
these trees aren’t helping anything.
But, this tree is glorious today,
its death day. White flowering branches
drape over the sidewalk, cascade
over the street. The neighbor told me
twice, that our tree, the one eight feet away
from this one to be taken out, will be
happier. Trees who grew up together,
who must have known each other
for a couple of decades, at least.
Two days ago, I pat the tree to be downed,
thanked it, and yesterday too, but today,
I walked right by it without saying
anything at all, thinking about how
I woke up crying about all that the dark
does and does not hold. I didn’t pat the tree
this third day, the very day the saw sound began
and I wished I had. I knew the sound
was coming and I wonder if the tree
knew its fate as we sometimes know things.
In the height of its flower, each branch falls
with an odd grace, like the most beautiful dance,
by a dancer whose arms are being cut off
one after another until petals litter the asphalt
as if it were a wedding not a funeral.
A buzzing. A buzz. Until the tree
becomes wood stacked just feet
from its cut trunk. Branches full of light, gone,
as if they had never been there, as if their glory
had been a prayer taken with the breeze.
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Liza Wolff-Francis – finalist for the Susan Laughter Meyers Poetry Fellowship
First published online at Braided Way on October 21, 2024, this poem is part of the collection submitted in application for the fellowship.
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Liza Wolff-Francis, the 8th Poet Laureate of Carrboro, North Carolina, holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She is a feminist ecopoet and has taught creative writing workshops for over a decade. Her most recent book is
48 hours down the shore,
Kelsay Press, 2024. Contact:
https://www.lizawolff.com
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Liza Wolff-Francis
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This year’s NC Writers’ Network
Randall Jarrell Poetry Prize is awarded to Molly Bolton for her poem
Still Deer Ballad, with runner-up Janis Harrington for
Ode to Our Last Prepubescent Summer and Ross White as Honorable Mention for
Ship of Theseus. Bolton’s poem will be published in
poetrySouth.
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Molly Bolton
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Jan Harrington
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Chad Knuth, NCPS VP of Programs
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Thanks, Sarah. He is a kindred spirit. ---B