The fine print....

In honor of National Poetry month this April, I'm holding my first contest!  Here's how it works:

Send a submission of one of the following:

• an original poem
• a post (no more than 750 words) about writing poetry
• a post (no more than 750 words) about reading/enjoying poetry
• a post (no more than 750 words) about how poetry has changed your life

You may only send one entry no later than April 20th by sending it in the body of an email to me at coffeestainedblog (at) gmail (dot) com.  The subject line of the email should say BLOG SUBMISSION in it somewhere.  I will send a confirmation that the entry was received within 24 hours.  Submissions will be posted on the blog throughout April in the order in which they're received, exactly as formatted in the email.

You may comment on submissions as they appear, but voting will not begin until April 25th.  During the last six days of April, you may vote on your favorite submission (one vote per person, of course) by adding the comment "VOTE" to your choice.  If you vote more than once, I will count your first vote.  If you want to change your vote, you can email me with the subject line VOTE CHANGE.  In the email, give me the title of the post you're voting for.

I will tally the votes on May 1st, and announce the winner on the blog on May 2nd.  (The winner will also be notified via email.)

Now here's the part you're really waiting for: the fantabulous prize!

The winner of this spectacular poetic contest will receive this:

A set of three moleskine journals (5x8) with lined pages.

Perfect for continuing your poetic adventures beyond National Poetry Month.

You may begin sending submissions today, and the first submission will be posted on April 2nd (assuming it's received by then).  There will be only one submission posted per day, and I will add a sidebar with a running list of entries, and links to the posts.

Good luck, and happy scribbling!

My first contest!

The coffee-stained family is taking its first trip as a complete family soon!

We're going to spend Easter, and the week following, with my family.  It's going to be a great trip.  I haven't seen my family in quite some time.  I'm looking forward to spending time with them.

That said, the coffee-stained blog will be left to its own devices for the week.  I will have a few posts going up which will be links from Examiner.  But I'd like to take this opportunity to open the floor to some of my readers.

This time around, though, we have a theme.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have an idea.  See, April is National Poetry Month.  It's a month that celebrates that poetry is ignored 11 months out of the year.  And I love celebrating poetry during April.  So I would love if anyone who wants to contribute would send one of the following:

• an original poem
• a post about writing poetry (a poem about writing poetry would be even better!)
• a post about reading/enjoying poetry (a poem about reading/enjoying poetry would be even better!)
• a post about how poetry has changed your life (a poem about how poetry has changed your life would be even better!)

Anyone who wants to send something can, and I'll put a few up for that week.  Anyone whose piece is not posted during the first week of April needn't worry.  I will be using all the pieces I receive throughout the month.

But wait!  There's more!

We'll also be picking a "fan favorite" piece at the end of the month.  Throughout the month, be sure to read the pieces that are posted.  Then, at the end of the month, you'll vote on the guest pieces (you only get one vote) by posting a comment on the piece.  Whoever wins the fan favorite contest will get a fantabulous prize to be announced at a later date.

So start thinking about your contribution, and when April gets a little closer, I'll divulge all the details about the contest and prize.

Happy scribbling!

Language by W. S. Merwin

Certain words now in our knowledge we will not use again, and we will never forget them. We need them. Like the back of the picture. Like our marrow, and the color in our veins. We shine the lantern of our sleep on them, to make sure, and there they are, trembling already for the day of witness. They will be buried with us, and rise with the rest.

--

About the author:

W(illiam) S(tanley) Merwin (born 30 September 1927) is an American poet. He made a name for himself as an anti-war poet during the 1960s. Later, he would evolve toward mythological themes and develop a unique prosody characterized by indirect narration and the absence of punctuation. In the 80s and 90s, Merwin's interest in Buddhist philosophy and deep ecology also influenced his writing.  He continues to write prolifically, though he also dedicates significant time to the restoration of rainforests in Hawaii, where he currently resides.

Merwin has received many honors, including the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the Tanning Prize, one of the highest honors bestowed by the Academy of American Poets, as well as the Golden Wreath of the Struga Poetry Evenings.

In the old days a poet once said by Ko Un

In the old days a poet once said

our nation is destroyed

yet the mountains and rivers survive

Today's poet says

the mountains and rivers are destroyed

yet our nation survives

Tomorrow's poet will say

the mountains and rivers are destroyed

our nation is destroyed and Alas!

you and I are completely destroyed

--

About the author

13 hours and 3 minutes...

NaPoWriMo, Anyone?

So...if you've been reading my blog, you've heard of NaNoWriMo.  And Screnzy.  But NaPoWriMo is a new one to me.

NaPoWriMo is a pledge drive for the month of April.  The goal is to collect pledges based on the number of days you participate.  Participation means writing a poem a day during NPM.

Since I'm participating in Screnzy this year, I've decided not to officially participate in NaPoWriMo.  However, when I'm not scribbling a stage play, I just may manage to write at least one poem each week during April to post here on the blog.  If I find I have more free time than I anticipated, I'll write more poems.

If you're poetically inclined, I encourage you to participate.  Even if you're unable to collect any pledges, it could be a fun exercise in poetry.  And I'd be happy to post a link to your poems on your blog or post your poems on my blog.  All you have to do is contact me.

Happy poet-ing!

ScriptFrenzy Awaits!

For those whose wrists are still in braces thanks to the madness in November, you may want to skip over this post.  For all others, read on!

ScriptFrenzy 2009 is upon us!

April 1st marks the first day of furious writing for all those theatre/TV/radio-minded of us.  This is only the third ScriptFrenzy ever, and it's sure to be even more exciting than last year!  (And believe me, last year was crazy!!)

Now that I have you all excited about writing with a crazy deadline (though no one could be more excited than Dana, of course), you're probably wondering just what ScriptFrenzy is.  Well, look at the title.  Script.  Frenzy.  It's a frenzied script-writing extravaganza!

The idea is similar to NaNoWriMo with a few minor changes.

1. You're writing a script instead of prose.  It can be a stage play, TV show, screenplay, radio show, or skit for your neighbor's kids.  Whatever.  But it's a script.
2. Instead of counting words, you're counting pages.  ScriptFrenzy is a lot easier.  Instead of writing 50,000 words, you write 100 pages of script.  And let me tell you, 100 pages of script is nothin'.  After all, you can take up half a page with just a few lines of dialogue.  Last year, I did it in about four days, and I was working outside the house full time.

That's it, folks.  Everything else is pretty much the same as NaNo.  You sign up on the site, when you're done you verify your script, and there's a great support system on their website, just like with NaNoWriMo.

I really enjoy writing scripts.  It challenges me to think about the importance of every word of dialogue and how everything a character says reveals something about him or her.  Plus, sometimes I like thinking about a story in 3D (stage setting).  It's a nice change of pace.

So if you've ever wondered if maybe you could write a script one day, April 1st is "one day."  The site is live and ready for you to register, and I'll be scripting right along with you all month.

Come on.

It'll be fun!

[END SCENE]

The Walk Home

It couldn’t have been more whimsical if it had been Mr. Tumnus with a pan flute walking with Lucy. After the brief moment of the scene, I half-expected to look in my rearview mirror to see him skipping next to the boy.


The boy was average-looking. His tawny skin seemed to glow from the afternoon sun, and he dragged a weighted backpack with him, worn low on his back because that’s what all the boys did. He knew his father didn’t like it, but they compromised, and he wore khaki pants and button-down shirts to school every day. He was sure when he went to high school his father would relax the rules. He looked a little tired, which was to be expected after a full day of school that included forty-five minutes of full-speed kickball in the gymnasium. He was dreading the end of the walk home when he’d have to sit at the kitchen table to work out math problems while his mother chopped vegetables for dinner.


He walked an even pace with the man, but was careful to leave space enough between them so they could have been mistaken for two strangers instead of father and son. He wasn’t ashamed of his father by any means, but he was getting to the age that he recognized the strange smiles people used to look at his father.


His father, on the other hand, did not recognize those smiles. In his traditional mind, he believed people said what they meant, so, to him, smiles were smiles, and not masks for pity and snobbishness.


This afternoon was like many others to the man. He insisted on walking the few blocks from their small house to the corner to meet his son every afternoon. Often that brief walk was the best father-son conversation the two had, and the man was not going to give that up simply because his son was letting adolescent American boys tease him about his protective parents.


“It is not that I don’t trust you,” the man told the boy once. “My father always picked me up from school, and his father before him. It is valuable time that not every father can afford.”


This afternoon the man brought his flute along as he left the house. It was an impulse; he saw the instrument laying across the table and his hand reached for it in the same instant his other hand reached for the doorknob. As he walked to the corner he tuned the flute, playing stylized scales and a warm up piece he’d learned too long ago to recall the tutor’s name or hair color.


Every few steps he stopped to pull the headpiece out a little more. His son waved to him from across the street, and when they met, they embraced briefly before turning to head back the way the man came.


On the walk home, the man continued playing the flute, testing his fingers on snatches of childhood songs. As he walked, keeping the pace his son set on the uneven sidewalk. He hunched to the side as he walked, contorting his body around the flute, spooning it.


His son didn’t object, knowing his father would give reasonable explanation for why it was important for them to play and listen to music on the walk home from school. The walk wasn't long, and they would be home before his father started into the operas.


The music echoed in the trees that lined one side of the sidewalk, mixing with the calling of the birds, who seemed curious at this man who was trying to sound like them. On the other side of the duo walking, a long line of slow-moving cars carried children home, and as they were stopped periodically to allow the crossing guard shuffle knots of stimulated children across the white striped bridge painted on the street. The drivers and passangers swiveled their heads to take in the pair in the few moments they had to look, and then the father and son, lost in their world of flute music, were just a memory.

Poem in Your Pocket Day

Don't forget to carry a poem with you on Thursday, April 17th for the first national Poem in Your Pocket Day! If you'd like some recommended poems already formatted for carrying, go here.

I will be carrying "The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams.