Yakima Coffeehouse Poets   

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets

A meeting place for Yakima regional writers

Twenty-third chapbook

The contest chapbook, "twenty-third," featuring cover art by local Yakima artist Chyrl Hahn, is available for a $10 donation. Please contact Ed Stover,.

The Yakima Coffeehouse Poets presents just a few of the fine examples of the 2017 year's prize poems from the Twenty-third chapbook...

Twenty-third YCP chapbook - 2017 - Art by Cheryl Hahn
 Yakima Coffeehouse Poets



Plumb at the center
of any word
a tiny heart waits
for a voice
to set it ticking.
Noun hearts are often
and slack
from a heavy diet
of adjectives.
Verbs are a divided tribe,
Norman and Teutonic.
The shortest own the most
vitality, unless
adverbs upstage them.
Be careful
as you speak
which words you wake
and feed. They might
follow you home.
          —Joyce Hernandez
  2017-from twenty-third chapbook 

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets


The night fell into a deeper tighter night.
The house creaked like ship timbers.
Morning came slowly, parting the trees.
The cows' noses are nubbed with ice.
The bull's sheath hairs are icicles.
The horse's ears are frosted milkweed pods.
The chicken water, despite its heater,
is ringed in ice. The horse's water-trough
frozen tight as each split egg.
You leave frost prints through foggy silence
as you go to hack at what squeezed
down and hardened in the night,
that fist closing around all living things.
You pry it open, then feed the steaming breaths.
                    —Joe Powell
    2017-from twenty-third chapbook



Yakima Coffeehouse Poets



These brittle solstice nights stars tangle buried in
rivulets of icicles won't make it above zero while
     White Pyrenees shatters sleep her muzzle folds snarl tooth
           howls outside the house and cold waves me awake
Dream of you like an important friend I swim forward
gasp and flail after years of tumbling dark chipped hole
     Old neighbor far above sights four wolves stock still cracks
           dark as he stumbles dizzy to rifle for the brittle stars
Those many years I still remind myself of myself, curls and borrowed
long leg litheness hardly anchored beyond next sharp-nosed male ahead
     This mix of dog weaves metallic-coat mountain-thread she claims entire
           range her yodels crystal growled in more than one language
Entire resumeĀ“ of work and midnights you stretch on the couch always important
welcome until an itch or scratch too long like just another flea of yours not mine
     Her silver shoulders thrust the long legs bend and fling devour cascades
           she races fields of sheen-barred-light a sword point with curled tail
We lose that fragrance with age and complexity never hesitating as if we
know what is vital still stutters the back of the throat then slumbers us a lullaby.
                                   —Penny K. Johnson
2017-from twenty-third chapbook 

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets



I wake to a rooster's crow
Mexican music in the orchard
ladders already reaching up, up
into trees thick with apples.
Stubbled fields and sky for miles.
Lupine and balsamroot
splash purple and yellow
on a sagebrush canvas.
Sometimes these hills reassure,
rolling on and on.
Ahtanum Ridge to the south,
Mt. Clemens, to the north.
Mount Adams always there,
like a birthmark. A loyal sentry
guarding the horizon.
Tumbleweeds and goatheads ask
if dying might be something I'll be able to do
without being scared out of my mind.
This landscape is teaching me things.
How to gather it up, take it all in.
How to kneel where I am, and pray.
                    —Terry Martin
        2017-from twenty-third chapbook

Yakima Coffeehouse Poets



"So God, we..."
Every Sunday
our pastor begins the prayer
this way
as if already deep
in the middle
of a conversation
with God—
and we just joined in.
I recall the words
of my Japanese calligraphy 
the thick wet tip
of his bamboo brush
poised high above
a blank sheet of
rice paper—
The brush stroke begins
the ink touches the paper.

From invisible to visible
From silence to hearing
A message flows
through us
and we receive it
          —Victoria Patschke
  2017-from twenty-third chapbook

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