The Long River Run is Currently Available

The 2009 edition of the Long River Run is available. Members receive it free of charge, it was mailed in mid-January.

Additional copies are available at meetings and events for $10 each, for mailed copies add $2 for postage. Send orders with a check made out to

CT Poetry Society , PO BOX 270554, West Hartford, CT, 06127.

*Correction: The CT Poetry Society is sorry for a layout error in Gemma Mathewson's poem which appears in the 2009 Long River Run which resulted in the cutting off of lines at the end of the poem.

To see the poem in its correct form please click here.

Connecticut Poetry Society

The Connecticut Poetry Society (CPS), an affiliate of the National Federation of Poetry Societies (NFSPS), is a nonprofit organization dedicated to the promotion and enjoyment of poetry. Our group has a long tradition of excellence in publishing the work of poets from Connecticut and around the nation.

Our mission is to support the art form of poetry with chapter meetings, contests, and poetry events. Membership is not limited to Connecticut residents. One does not have to be a poet to join, just a person willing to dedicate time or money in support of the arts.

Chapters usually meet monthly to workshop original poetry and sponsor readings, lectures or programs in their communities. Browse through our site. To get information about CPS, contact Christine Beck at mailto:connpoetry@comcast.net . The Academy of American Poets has published a "Poetry Map" of America that features photos, events, and information relevant to poetry in each state. Take a look at the Connecticut page by clicking here http://www.poets.org/state.php/varState/CT

Gemma Mathewson
:

        Why I Love Prison Stories                                
                                                                
I drove a rural route through the woods,                        
late afternoon, and in the rear view                                
the sun did time between the verticals
of black bar tree trunks  - and I thought:

This is why I love prison stories
they are all exactly about me

        Falsely accused, though maybe guilty as hell
        about something else
        but going down in a blaze of glory
        and always always
        in the the solitary confinement
        of a winter sunset.
        When my car approaches the bridge
        the red orb me is gone,
        no color saturated reflection
        in the river, only pale vernix
        on gray water, the ghost ripple of my escape.

        Then flash back to the scene where,
        though crammed into the metal box
        a literal minute ago,I am dragged out
        all filthy tatters, mottled skin,
        pinwheeling eyes and  matted hair
        to illustrate a cinematically significant lapse of time.

On new year’s eve I listened to the sculptor
frame his creative intention about
A ball of snow he carried in a cooler south
across the state line,
then jailed behind a locked gate
inside a cage crafted of wood and bamboo.
Eventually the snow would melt -
total transformation essential to its release.

This is why I love prison stories
they are all exactly about me.

        Predictably, the governor’s pardon
        arrives that melodramatic moment too late,
        my fellow inmates sell me out
        for a pack of cigarettes.
        Good behavior is irrelevant,
        the air ducts never lead
        to the laundry chute
        and with a filed-off spoon handle
        I scrape a tunnel into concrete block
        while I catalog the warden’s secrets
        biding my time
        drop by drop.