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On December 13, the English department hosted its annual Chapbook Showcase Reading and Open Mic event at the Arno Maris Gallery, where students from the department’s Advanced Poetry class present and read passages from chapbooks they’ve written during the semester. An open mic period followed student presentations.

A chapbook is a small book of poetry that’s usually 15-25 pages in length. Furthermore, awards that recognize poetry, prose, and other mediums of writing, such as the Pushcart Prize, are given to authors who excel in their craft. Ketia Valme ’24, a senior majoring in English, was just recently nominated for her newly published poem “Where do you think you’re going?”, which is forthcoming in Last Leave Magazine.

“I am deeply proud of you and the work you’ve done this semester,” Leah Nielsen, Associate Professor of English, said in her opening remarks. Valme opened the presentations by reading first, discussing her heritage and how she reconciles her relationship to it with her surroundings.

Her fellow classmates proceeded to read poems that explored a myriad of topics. Subjects such as body image and mental health were commented on, with students exploring themes in both free-verse and traditional forms, such as sonnets and sestinas, complex pieces separated into six stanzas, with six lines each, and followed by a final, three-line verse.

“The sun hung perfectly in the afternoon”, written by Samantha Grunden ’24, was a reflection on childhood memories. Like many poets, Grunden anchors the imagery by engaging the five senses, allowing for a more immersive read. Phrases like “plastered walls”, “crimson strokes”, “sticky fingertips”, and “chattering frogs” help to evoke a familiar, vivid experience.

The sun hung perfectly in the afternoon,

in my youth,
kissing the bronzed knees and elbows of a child.

Plastered walls chipped and peeled into perfect shapes,
staircases begged and pleaded to be surfed,
and the fridge produced snow-freckled popsicles every Monday.

My mind buzzed in a milky mess of thoughts
like that pleated flag hanging from the porch
beating the air with every slap.

A fire blazed, tickling the tops of the trees,
sparks glazing the dawn sky,
painting it with crimson strokes.

A marshmallow tucked into a chestnut cracker bed.
Nestled between dark chocolate chunks
and sticky fingertips.

Blisters gripped my ankles with firm clasps as
a hundred peepers sang in the night.
Short, sweet cheers of chattering frogs.

Cerulean soft serve ice cream
Swirled to the tip,
blessing the chubby cheeks of innocence.

Another student, Alexis Crafts ’24, experiments with combining childhood memories of her own using a more concrete, direct approach. Crafts also employs the use of enjambment, which is the continuation of a sentence across line breaks.

Enjambment can be helpful to depict emotion, such as uncertainty and confusion, though it is also used to highlight important words at the end of lines, as Crafts does in “Footsteps”, which features the words “subdued”, “pained”, and “labor” in its opening stanza.

Footsteps

Father’s: rhythmic, but subdued
and slow, heavy-footed, pained
after hard decades of labor.

Brother’s: think the neighbors
could hear him stomp, graceful
as an elephant, unable to learn
to quiet down.

Mother’s: coinflip. Like a heartbeat.
Unable to decide if silent or heavy
is more frightening.

Mine: an off-beat gallop, my heels
never reach the ground. I know
which set of floorboards creak.

After the rest of the students finished reading, an open mic period followed, with three more people participating. Nielsen subsequently gave closing remarks, congratulating her students on completing the course and emphasizing the importance of community.

“You are truly beautiful people,” Nielsen said, addressing the crowd of her students. “Your poetry astounds me, but the way you love each other astounds me even more.”