Northwoods Art and Book Festival-Poetry Recognition Event

Poets were honored today at the 18th Annual Northwoods Art and Book Festival in Hackensack. There were an impressive number of artists, regional authors and poets who participated in the festival. 
I chaired the annual Poetry Recognition and Display Event. Each poet who submitted had one or more of their poems on display. Those who attended the festival had an opportunity to vote for their favorite poems during the day. Four poets were recognized in the category Popular Choice. A committee selected four winners in the category Works of Merit. 

I facilitated the poetry reading and announcement of winners. Poets in attendance shared their poems with guests and reflection on why poetry matters. Some of their responses to Why Poetry Matters included:

• "Poetry is an invitation as well as a challenge to think and relate precisely in images that are universally appreciated.” 
• "I’ve come to believe poetry is the signature of one’s soul, and paintings are its portrait."
• “Poetry gives my thoughts in a creative way that touches the soul, the heart and emotions. To craft poetry, to choose just the right words, satisfies me unlike any other form of writing.”

John Harrington reading his poems. Three of the winners pictured below are 

Lea Johnstone, John Harrington and Sandra Burell.

Regional authors were eager to share their work, sign books and chat with attendees. 

This author enjoyed dressing as one of her main characters.

Outside there was something for everyone to enjoy, browse and even buy!

It was a enjoyable way to spend the day. I was inspired by the works of these authors, poets and artists.

Enjoy the imagery in one of the winning poems by Sandra Burwell.

“IRONING DAY”
I’m cozy here, pretending to dust, under the dining room table.
Mitch Miller and the Ink Spots are on the fold-open record player.
I will be 10 soon.
I see the kitchen, bright and clean, almost empty;
The checkered floor waxed and shiny.
It is Ironing Day
Mom is not pretending to iron, in a race with herself,
She is competing against the last shirt,
And singing “SWEET VIOLETS.”
Dad’s long sleeve white shirts are just out of the fridge,
Rolled like fat white sausages, chilled and ready
With the catsup and meatloaf.
Yesterday, washed and starched and hung on the line.
This morning laid out and wet with the coke bottle sprinkler.
Now in the crisper drawer.
I can see the plywood plaque holding macaroni alphabet letters.
They are varnished on: “Bless this kitchen, with all its pots and pans.”
Both of us singing PAPER DOLL.