Skip to main content

Common Good Books Poetry Contest 2018 Winners

Congratulations to the winners of the 2018 Common Good Poetry Contest, and thank you again to all who entered. 

NIGHT ON THE TOWN  

 

White stars have fallen into the trees  

of Rice Park where we can see 

 

the cold statue of F. Scott Fitzgerald

wearing his stocking cap of snow.  

 

Nearby, a silver platter of frozen ice

is etched by many blades.  

 

Skaters look like figurines cast against

the granite walls of Landmark Center. 

 

Thousands of years ago people used

animal bones lashed to their feet. 

 

How long since we last let go, pushed off?

$8.00 rents two old pairs of leather skates. 

 

The unsteady boats of our bodies set out

on a wobbly go-round-the-rink. 

 

Muscle memory instructs: relax knees

so legs can shove and stroke to glide. 

 

Soon we will orbit like planets, following

others in bright coats who follow us.  

 

Everything whirls: snowflakes, lights, stars.

We blow blue clouds of breath into the night.  

--Margaret Hasse

 

 

ICE FISHING ON LAKE PHALEN

He sits hunched over on a camp stool

under the arching dome of gray plastic

that nearly disappears in a wilderness

of gray ice.  He is creating a quiet place,

a chance to collect himself or think 

of nothing at all.  There is only the muffled

sound of a winter wind and the slight slap

of water at the hole.  He could easily buy

a fish at the market, but it would be only 

a fleeting moment, whereas fishing lasts 

until he wishes to leave, and the fish 

is really not the most important thing.



--Norman Holen

 

On greeting an acquaintance at the Ordway, after several years



“I’m a fast-fossilizing fella,” said

the most interesting man at the opera.

Eighty, at least, maybe older, bearded,

ancient and classical and seemingly

permanent, a human Stonehenge,

aged ladies’ man, tall, loose-limbed.

Still half in his heavy charcoal coat,

he rises to embrace me, conducts

stage business with his cane,

gripping its fancy finial.



--Tina Karelson

 

1000 Pieces



Back in dark November we started a puzzle: a bright panorama of St. Paul

from the University Club bluff. Tulips meant the thousand days of winter

would someday pass. And it’s true. Piece by piece red petals materialized

in the foreground,  while far below ice left the Mississippi loose and   

shining.    You found the back half of a black lab, and sure enough, it

wagged. And we persisted.



Now in March, how eager we are to be done! But as usual, the sky is the

problem.  Luckily we have your puzzle-piece-clipper handy,  and  with

judicious trimming, careful as carpenters, we’ll reshape fragments of a

troubled sky. Soon one morning, my love, you will press the first day of

spring firmly into place.



--Connie Wanek