Yakima Coffeehouse Poets   

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets

A meeting place for Yakima regional writers

Twenty-second chapbook

The contest chapbook, "twenty-second," featuring cover art by artist Duane Reed, is available for a $10 donation. Please contact Ed Stover,.

The Yakima Coffeehouse Poets presents just a few of the fine examples of the 2016 year's prize poems from the Twenty-second chapbook...

 Twenty-second YCP chapbook - 2016
 Yakima Coffeehouse Poets

Land's End


he moves through the rain

gray dawn at his back, ahead

trees and beyond, the sea, crashing


he has come this far to see this—

land's end, a breath of remedy

arms spread, a preacher in benediction


behind him, the ghosts of war and women

the broken and the fallen

where no fire is left but his heart


                                    —E. Hank Buchmann
                                   2016-from twenty-second chapbook 


Yakima Coffeehouse Poets


Finding Relief


Say you have a chronic pain on one side

and you've tried everything and nothing works

and one son has it and your father and

probably his father and you imagine

during Caesar's Gallic Wars some

Germanic tribesman was wounded

on that side at 16 and passed it down

through his entire epigenetic line

and then it occurs to you to have your own

vision quest like some Native Americans do

and so you spend some days

camping on a hillside outside of town

with no food or water until you become

delirious with the heat and see your vision

of the young man's wound and you

take spit and mix it with dirt like Jesus did

and you rub it on this vision's wound

and watch as it heals with no scar

so now the ancestor can't pass on

the pain he doesn't have to his relations,

and that very day, your pain dissolves

like a puff of smoke in the endless sky

and you go home forever cured.


                                       —Jim Thielman
                          2016-from twenty-second chapbook 


Yakima Coffeehouse Poets




We carry the grief in our bones,

the Irish and the Indians. We know

just when they took the salmon,

the language, and the land;

where we starved, and where crows

carried songs from the hacked

and bleeding bodies to the other side.


Sometimes we forget this earthbound

echo closer than our breath. But still,

we carry the grief in our bones.

The pipes, the drums, the sunset

on rounded hills, road kill,

or an old doe gone to coyotes,

all these can strike like lightning, kindle

the grief fires sudden, brilliant, and lethal.


They say we drink more than most folks,

the Irish and the Indians.

But we speak less often,

and our bones cry out for spirits.


                                     —Kathleen Smith
                            2016-from twenty-second chapbook 


Yakima Coffeehouse Poets




The day hangs neatly balanced

Between sultry desire to recline, toes in sand,

And quickening awareness

That the bees may be on to something.


                        —Karen Troianello

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets




In the officers' quarters at Camp Lejeune,

on the edge of the grass, under thickness of hedge,

in softness of shadow, I knew wilderness,

was certain I could stay forever.


I tied my broomstick horse to the water spigot,

crouched through brambles of green in search of a friend

I'd found the day before, pulsing along spines of branch,

tuft of black, band of brown, wooly bear caterpillar.


From the pocket of my sundress, I pulled the string

I'd snipped from a tangle in the kitchen drawer.

With the sureness of my mother's hands braiding my hair,

I wound the string behind his head into a loose leash.


I guided him through rocks and roots,

his furriness focused on me with quiet attention,

away from cries of the baby, reign of my sisters,

echoes in the empty well of my father's absence.


You know, I loved that caterpillar and he loved me.

I slipped the leash over his head and we lay still,

breath to breath, eye to eye,

first communion on consecrated ground.


                                    —Susan Johnson

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets


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 Words that Move Me: A Winter Poetry Craft Series at Inklings Book Shop, 2pm every Sunday in March 2019


2018 Contest chapbook 

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets present

Link to our: 
Library of Publications

2018 Poetry Contest...

- 1st Prize -
Linda Brown

- 2nd Prize -
E. Hank Buchmann

- 3rd Prize -
Kathleen Smith

- Tom Pier Prize -
Kathleen Stancik

- Honorable Mention -
Lance Brender
Claire Carpenter
Phil Cibicki
Randie Gottlieb
Penny K. Johnson
Susan Johnson
Terry Martin
Samantha Mesman
Fain Rutherford
Ed Stover

- 2018 Judges -
Vicki Patschke
Jack Radosevich
Karen Troianello 


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Featured Poets...


Reading Naomi Shihab Nye
Linda Brown

Train Dreams
E. Hank Buchmann

Kathleen Smith

 —After a line by Diane Seuss
Kathleen Stancik

Natural History
Fain Rutherford