HER POEMS SING with the rhythm of a writer closely connected to land, heritage and history. She is Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato, Minnesota poet laureate and author of Songs, Blood Deep, published by Duluth-based Holy Cow! Press.
Of Dakota and Cherokee heritage, Westerman honors her roots with poems that reflect a deep cultural appreciation for the natural world. The water. The sky. The seasons. The earth. The birds and animals. They are all there in her writing, in language that is down-to-earth descriptive. Readers can hear the birdsong, feel the breeze, see the morning light… That she pens nature poems mostly about the land of my heart—fields and prairie—endears me even more to her poetry.
This slim volume of collected poems is divided into seasons of the year, each chapter title written in the Dakota language. The book features multiple languages—Dakota, Cherokee, Spanish and English. That adds to its depth, showing that, no matter the language we speak, write or read, we are valued.
This silo mural in downtown Mankato celebrates the cultural diversity of the region, including the Dakota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
Westerman clearly values her Native heritage, how lessons and stories have been passed to her through generations of women, especially. Songs, blood deep. In her poem “First Song,” she shares a lesson her grandmother taught her about the importance of sharing. After reading that thought-provoking poem, I considered how much better this world would be if we all focused on the singular act of sharing.
The Dakota 38 Memorial at Reconciliation Park in downtown Mankato lists the names of the 38 Dakota men hung at this site on December 26, 1862. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo November 2023)
This poet, who is also a gifted textile artist (creator of quilts), wraps us in her words. In the season of waniyetu, her poetry turns more reflective and introspective, as one would expect in winter. She writes of family, injustices and more. “Song for the Generations: December 26” is particularly moving as that date in history references the mass execution of 38 Dakota sentenced to death in 1862 and hung in Mankato. Westerman writes of rising and remembering, of singing and prayer. It’s a truly honorable poem that sings of sorrow and strength.
Her poems remind us that this land of which she writes was home first to Indigenous Peoples. Westerman writes of a state park in New Ulm, the sacred Jeffers Petroglyphs and Fort Snelling, where Dakota were imprisoned after the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862 and before their exile from Minnesota. The name of our state traces to Mni Sota Makoce, Dakota for “the land where the water reflects the sky.” It’s included in Westerman’s poetry.
I appreciate poems that counter the one-sided history I was taught. I appreciate Westerman’s style of writing that is gentle, yet strong, in spirit. Truthful in a way that feels forgiving and healing.
In the all of these poems, I read refrains of gratitude for the natural world, gratitude for heritage and gratitude for this place we share. We sang. We sing. Songs, blood deep.
FYI: Songs, Blood Deep, is a nominee for the 2024 Minnesota Book Award in poetry. The winner will be announced May 7. This is Westerman’s second poetry book. Her first: Follow the Blackbirds. In addition to writing poetry and creating quilts, Westerman teaches English, Humanities and Creative Writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato.
Pick a poem from a box at Mercado Local (and other locations) as part of a poetry initiative rooted in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
PRINTED POETRY PLACED in public pleases me. Pleases me because putting poetry out there places this literary art into hands that might not otherwise pick poetry. I mean, if we’re honest, how often do we purchase a poetry book or pull a poetry volume from the 811. section of the library? Probably not all that often.
Among colorful merchandise sold by immigrant vendors at Mercado Local in Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
That is why I love the latest poetry project in my area—“Poem in a Bag.” Rice County Neighbors United, an advocacy group for low income and immigrant community members, recently launched this project in Northfield, a city rich in the arts, including poetry. Mar Valdecantos, RCNU advocate director and also a poet, writer, visual artist and art teacher, is leading this endeavor.
Grab a poetry scroll from the box. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
The concept is simple. Collect, translate, print and place poems inside a box (not a bag) in locations accessible to the public. The poetry, both original and favorites, is paired with local original art, including that of Valdecantos. Anyone can grab a poetry scroll and have instant access to literary and visual art.
Northfield is home to a sizeable Hispanic population. Immigrant vendors sell their art and more at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
But there’s more. The poems are printed in Spanish and in English. I can’t read Spanish. (My second daughter can; she’s a former Spanish medical interpreter and translator.) That doesn’t matter. What matters is that each poem is printed in two languages, reflecting, respecting and celebrating cultural diversity in our region of southern Minnesota.
The merchandise inside Mercado Local, including this woven tote, is a colorful, visual delight. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Rice County Neighbors United aims to raise cultural awareness via events and activities like “Poem in a Bag,” funded by a grant from the Minnesota Arts & Cultural Heritage Fund. The arts have always been a way to connect peoples, to communicate, to inspire and more. Whatever our differences, art is universal, linking us in our humanity.
A portion of the poem, “Streetlight at Night,” and art by Mar Valdecantos. All poems are printed in Spanish and in English. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Poems submitted for this National Poetry Month project cover a range of topics, some specific, others broader. Sunrise, empanadas, children, cancer, loneliness, life, winter, salmon, even a dead mouse, are among the subjects of original poems. I’ve lent several poems for the project.
More cultural offerings at Mercado Local. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
And then there is the poetry of renowned poets—Latin American, Cuban, American—selected and submitted as favorite poems. Nature, the mother-child relationship, a white rose and service to others theme these. They, too, are accompanied by art.
Mercado Local is located in the heart of downtown Northfield, just off Division Street. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Art in all its forms is powerful. Rice County Neighbors United recognizes that, celebrating creativity and entrepreneurship at Mercado Local, a marketplace for immigrant vendors and also an art center, community room and education space located at 108 5th Street East in Northfield.
Mercado Local explodes with color. The “Poem in a Bag” box is on the cashier’s counter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
“Poem in a Bag” poems are available at Mercado Local and at other Northfield businesses (currently Content Bookstore, Imminent Brewery and radio station KYMN) and at the Northfield Public Library. Valdecantos aims to get poetry boxes into more Northfield businesses. In Faribault, “Poem in a Bag” can be found at Books on Central, a used bookshop run by the Rice County Area United Way.
This is an ambitious undertaking, one Valdecantos hopes to repeat next April during National Poetry Month. She intends to extend this year’s “Poem in a Bag” into May with a poetry reading set for 6:30-8 pm Thursday, May 23, in the community room/art space at Mercado Local. I appreciate all of this. To place poetry in public places, to use art to connect cultures, is truly a welcoming, neighborly gift to our culturally diverse communities.
Just-published, a 116-page anthology featuring the poetry of five Northfield, Minnesota, poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
ON AN APRIL AFTERNOON when gray skies reverberated thunder and unleashed sheets of rain upon parched southern Minnesota, I read their words, table-side lamp pooling light onto pages. It felt right, to cozy under a fleece throw, to immerse myself in the poetry of Becky Boling, Heather Candels, D.E. Green, Steve McCown and Julie A. Ryan on a day meant for sheltering indoors.
Outside the Northfield Public Library during a 2019 celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2019)
Antiques on 4th in Cannon Falls. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2021)
Youthful memories of grandmothers, homemade ice cream, small towns as they once were and much more flow through the pages. At times I feel as if I’m reading about “the dusty excess of nostalgia” of my life, as Steve McCown writes “In an Antique Store.” His mention of a Tom Thumb toy cash register sends me back to a long ago Christmas. His poems are sparse, yet fully-descriptive in the way of language carefully-culled by a man who taught high school and college English.
An Elvis impersonator performs during Bean Hole Days in Pequot Lakes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2021)
Likewise, Julie A. Ryan, has me reminiscing with “Candy Cigarettes,” the chalky white sticks of fake cigarettes that I, too, “smoked” in the 1960s. Ryan paints with her words, revealing the visual artist side of her creativity. She mentions Van Gogh and painting and also leans into music within her poetry. Especially powerful is her poem, “’68 Comeback Special,” in which she shares about a near-death experience, of almost meeting Elvis. Her final poem, “We Look West,” titles the book, summarizing well the transition of life from sunrise/birth to sunset/death. That themes the anthology, the movement of life from east to west.
Performing at The Contented Cow in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
In her poetry, Becky Boling moves readers through life from playground monkey bars to motherhood to contemplating old age. I am particularly drawn to “Violin Lesson,” in which Boling observes her young son learning to play the violin. From a deep cushioned armchair, she is caught up in the artistry, the beauty, the movement as am I through her observational writing. And then she closes with the emotional thought of not wanting the moment to end, of understanding that some day she will let her son go. As the mother of three, I feel her sadness at the lesson completed. I expect in her 36 years of teaching Spanish and Liberal Arts at Carleton College in Northfield, Boling has observed the movement of young people whose parents let them go to learn and grow their independence.
A southwestern Minnesota prairie sunset between Redwood Falls and Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
D.E. Green, who taught English for 33 years at Augsburg University, has likely seen the same. His poems reflect life and love. Particularly endearing is his poem, “For Becky: Love Sonnet after Neruda,” written for Boling, to whom he’s married. (They also share the position of interim co-poet laureates in Northfield.) His appreciation for and study of Shakespeare show in this love poem, as touching as any love poem I’ve read. “I love you unthinkingly/like a deep breath, a careless yawn, a sigh,” he writes. Beautiful. Green also reflects on his life lived “good enough” and on life during retirement. His poetry should be required reading for anyone closer to west than to east.
My mom lived in a care center, confined to a wheelchair in the end years of her life. I took this photo of her hands about a year before her January 2022 death. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo December 2020)
Heather Candels, too, reflects on her passing life in a poem aptly titled “Passing.” But it is “Situation Comedy,” a poem about a 104-year-old woman living in a care center, which elicits an especially emotional reaction from me. I can picture the centenarian shoving her walker (as my octogenarian mom did) to the dining room, then sitting with Grace and Lloyd, whom she secretly calls Grease and Lard. “Something has to be funny about all this,” Candels writes. The former English teacher is a gifted storyteller who brings unexpected emotional lines to her writing.
In “A Sign,” Heather Candels writes about racial injustice via white lilies of the valley and “their colonies spreading underground/roots nurtured by the rich dark soil…” This poem alone is reason enough to buy this anthology. Photo taken in Madison, Wisconsin. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2020)
And then there are the poems that touch on tough topics, on social issues, on disparities. Climate change. Evidence in the Nuremberg Trials. Racial injustice. Poetry doesn’t right life. But it opens our minds, causes us to think, reflect, perhaps take positive action as we move from east to west.
Mention poetry and many people likely stop listening. In a way, I understand. To their ears, they hear the stuffy, rhyming, difficult poems of yesteryear. The poems that made no sense to many of us. The poems that had to be read as part of a high school English class.
A close-up of lines in the poem steps along the River Walk in downtown Northfield. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
While I’m not privy to how poetry is taught today, I do recognize that it’s, overall, much more approachable, at least in Minnesota. We are home to a talented array of poets with their writing published not only in anthologies and literary journals, but also presented in widely-accessible, public ways.
A poem by Patrick Ganey is stamped into the sidewalk near the Northfield Public Library: still winter thaw/tall pines bend, grey sky drops rain/even at midday/a train whistle sounds lonely (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Nearby Northfield, for example, prints poetry into sidewalks. In 2011, the Arts and Culture Commission launched Sidewalk Poetry. Through that annual competition, selected poems are stamped into sidewalks in the historic downtown, along routes to schools and in residential neighborhoods. I always enjoy walking in downtown Northfield and pausing to read poetry. As a poet myself, I appreciate how much this community values this literary art.
This month, National Poetry Month, and into May, Northfield-based nonprofit Rice County Neighbors United is offering “Poem in a Bag.” Submitted original and favorite poems were printed, rolled and placed in poetry boxes (not bags) set out at select Northfield businesses and at the Northfield Public Library. Poems are printed in both English and Spanish and paired with original art by local artists. What a fun idea, to give away poems, perhaps reaching people who would not otherwise read poetry. I’ve submitted several poems for this project.
My poem, “Lilacs,” inspired “Lilacs on a Table,” an oil on linen painting by Jeanne Licari. This was part of an poet-artist collaborative exhibit at Crossings at Carnegie in Zumbrota ten years ago. Today my poem is part of Northfield’s “Poem in a Bag.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2014)
A portion of a poem by Rob Hardy, former Northfield Poet laureate, in the Northfield Library atrium. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
At the Northfield Public Library, Open Mic Poetry is held monthly in the atrium for poets to share their writing with an appreciative audience. The next event is at 6:30 pm Wednesday, May 8.
Poem steps in Northfield along the River Walk. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2022)
Northfield also has a poet laureate actively promoting poetry and poetry events within the community. A new laureate will soon be named to replace past laureate Rob Hardy and current interim co-poet laureates Becky Boling and D.E. Green.
This new anthology features the poetry of five Northfield poets. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
This sidewalk poem in Mankato’s Riverfront Park references the mass hanging of 38 Dakota (plus two) in December 1862 in Mankato. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo November 2023)
I also have two other recently-released poetry books to read: Broad Wings, Long Legs, A Rookery of Heron Poems in which Minnesota writers (including Larry Gavin of Faribault and many other recognizable poets) contemplate a regional icon, and Songs, Blood Deep by Poet Laureate of Minnesota, Gwen Nell Westerman of Mankato. Westerman is Minnesota’s first Native poet laureate and teaches English, humanities and creative writing at Minnesota State University, Mankato, my alma mater.
My poem, posted along the West Mankato Trail. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited & copyrighted photo November 2023)
Mankato is a community rich in poetry. I’ve found poems stamped into concrete at Riverfront Park as part of WordWalk. But it’s a project of the Southern MN Poets Society which really puts poetry out in the community. Through the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride, winning poems are printed on signs and posted along walking and biking trails in Mankato and North Mankato. My poems have been included perhaps half a dozen times—I’ve lost count—with one, “The Mighty Tatanka,” a poem about bison, currently displayed along a trail in West Mankato.
A sampling of poetry books, right, for sale at Books on Central in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo April 2024)
Poetry is seemingly everywhere these days, unconfined to the space between book covers. Yet poems printed upon paper remain the primary place to find poetry. I recently picked up a stash of poetry books from my local library. I also perused poetry offerings at Books on Central, a Rice County Area United Way bookshop selling used books in downtown Faribault. In Northfield, independent bookseller Content Bookstore not only sells poetry books, but regularly hosts book signing events with writers, including poets.
An especially thought-provoking poem in Northfield’s Sidewalk Poetry project. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2020)
How we access poetry has certainly changed over the years. It is my hope that, even if you think you don’t like poetry, you open your mind to this creative art form. There’s much to be learned about nature, about ourselves, about life through the carefully-selected, sparse words of gifted poets, many of whom call Minnesota home.
FYI: Please check back for a more in-depth look at “Poem in a Bag” and reviews of poetry anthologies referenced in this post. Now, tell me, do you read poetry, have a favorite poem?
I CAN’T IMAGINE a world without books. From the time I was first read to and then learned to read as a young child, I have loved books. From books, I’ve learned, I’ve escaped, I’ve broadened my world well beyond southern Minnesota.
From reading the writing of others, I’ve grown, too, as a writer. Laura Ingalls Wilder, in her Little House books, taught me the importance of detail, of setting, in writing. I grew up on the prairie, some 20 miles from Walnut Grove, once home to the Ingalls family. A grade school teacher read the entire Little House series to me and my classmates. Books have, in many ways, shaped me.
Book cover image sourced online.
But imagine a world without books. That was a reality for slaves in America, denied access to books and to education. I just finished reading Kin: Rooted in Hope, written by Carole Boston Weatherford and illustrated by her son, Jeffery Boston Weatherford. The young adult book, published by Atheneum Books for Young Readers, was named a Coretta Scott King Author Honor Book 2024. It is a book that ought to be read by everyone not only for its insightful poetry-style storytelling, but also for its haunting scratchboard art.
Looking down on the pages of the book with a mix of black and white paper. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo February 2024)
Adding to the overall subliminal effect is the way in which the book is printed. Black words ink white paper. White words imprint black pages. And the artwork is made by etching away black ink to reveal white. This mixed usage of black and white, reinforces the storyline of slavery and slave owners. Black. White.
As I read Kin, which I pulled from a book display for kids and teens at my local library, I was increasingly horrified by what I read. Sure, I’ve read about slavery in history books. But this approach of historical fiction really brought home the ugliness, the abuse, the violence, the awfulness of slavery in a personal way. Fiction rooted in truth.
Children born into slavery. Whippings. An auctioneer’s gavel. Names written on an inventory list along with commodities. Jemmy. Big Jacob. Lyddia. Tom. Walter. Isaac. Mush ladled into a trough. Swimming banned lest an escape to freedom be attempted. And on and on. Atrocities that seem unfathomable to inflict upon individuals chained in Africa, sailed to Maryland, sold, abused, treated like property by wealthy white families.
Photo used for illustration only. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But in the all of this, threads of kinship, endurance, strength and hope, even defiance, run. Perhaps my favorite line in the book is that of Prissy, a house servant waiting on a dinner guest. He leers at her, making an inappropriate comment. She wants to tell him that she spit in his soup. At this point half way into the book, I applaud her unstated rebellion. As the chapters unfold, so does the move toward freedom for slaves. The author writes of freedom at last and of current day issues (controversial statues in public places, the murder of George Floyd…), all interspersed with a whole lot of history (including historic figures like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman…).
Even though this book is written for young adults, it should be read by older adults, too, who need to hear Prissy’s defiant voice. Author Carole Boston Weatherford gives voice to those who endured slavery, and to those whose family histories trace to enslavement, including her ancestors. Her son’s detailed scratchboard art reinforces the story, the words which wrench the spirit.
I photographed this scene in 2020 in Kenyon, MN. It remains one of my favorite images of this message given its location in a small town.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2020)
Kin: Rooted in Hope proves an especially fitting read during February, Black History Month. Through this book of historical fiction, I’ve learned more about a part of U.S. history which is horrendous in every possible way. That humanity can treat humanity so atrociously seems unfathomable…until I consider underlying and outright racist attitudes which continue yet today.
Minneopa State Park near Mankato is home to 30-40 bison fenced on 325 acres of primarily prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
THEY ARE MASSIVE BEASTS, once roaming the American Great Plains by the millions. They are bison, also called buffalo, today numbering some 370,000 in North America. Most are raised as livestock. But some 31,000, or eight percent, are part of conservation herds, including right here in Minnesota. Such herds are designed to protect wild bison and preserve their genetic diversity.
Interpretive signage about bison overlooks the prairie at Minneopa State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
An upcoming documentary, “The American Buffalo—A Story of Resilience” by awarding-winning filmmaker Ken Burns, and my own recently posted poem about bison prompted my renewed interest in this animal. Burns’ 4-hour film airs in two parts, at 7 pm on Monday, October 16, and on Tuesday, October 17, on PBS. His documentary traces the history of bison, their importance in Native peoples’ lives and culture, their near extinction, and efforts to bring them back.
Bison up close while driving through Minneopa State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
A map, posted in Minneopa State Park, shows the prairie and historic bison territory in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
Given the region’s rich Native heritage, the presence of a small group of bison in the Ramsey Park Zoo seems fitting. I recall rushing to see the buffalo there, both excited and intimidated by their massive hulk. Today I’m not so much afraid as respectful of their size and their importance in Indigenous Peoples’ culture.
A sculpture of White Buffalo Calf Woman, part of Indigenous culture, displayed at the 2011 Mankato City Art Walking Sculpture Tour. Artwork by Lee Leuning and Sherri Treeby. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011 by Audrey Kletscher Helbling)
One need only look back in history to see how invaluable bison were to these original inhabitants of the prairie, the plains. Bison provided food, shelter, clothing and more to Indigenous Peoples. They also held spiritual and cultural significance. Bison were considered kin, respected by those who respected Mother Earth.
Bison at Minneopa State Park watering hole. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
And then the white man came in the 1800s, overtaking the land, nearly driving bison to extinction as they hunted and slaughtered the animal primarily for their hides.
Blue Mounds State Park in rural Rock County, Minnesota, is home to 80-90 bison, although I did not see them when I visited the park in 2013.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
And so the story of bison is not only one of past atrocities in American history, but also one of personal history for me with those fenced bison in Minnesota’s largest municipal park, known as “The Little Yellowstone of Minnesota” for its beautiful natural topography seemingly like Yellowstone National Park. Yellowstone, the one in Wyoming, is home to nearly 6,000 bison.
A sign along the prairie’s edge at Minneopa State Park informs about bison in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
In my youth, I didn’t understand the importance of bison in Native culture. I simply delighted in seeing them in the zoo at then Alexander Ramsey Park in my native Redwood County. Neither did I recognize how offensive the name of the park I loved as a child—Alexander Ramsey Park. Alexander Ramsey served as our first territorial governor and then as the second state governor of Minnesota during the US-Dakota War of 1862. He offered a bounty to anyone who killed a Dakota person and called for Indigenous Peoples to be driven out of Minnesota.
This 67-ton Kasota limestone sculpture stands in Reconciliation Park in Mankato. It symbolizes the spiritual survival of the Dakota People and honors the area’s Dakota heritage. The park is the site of the largest mass hanging in U.S. history. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2019)
My poem posted along a recreational trail in Mankato. (Photo credit: Kay Herbst Helms)
I wanted to honor the original inhabitants of Mahkato, the bison, the Native culture, the land. And so I wrote “The Mighty Tatanka,” using the Dakota word for bison. My poem was selected for inclusion in the Mankato Poetry Walk & Ride and is posted on a sign in West Mankato.
The Mighty Tatanka
Tatanka trips from my tongue like the steady beat of horse hooves pounding the prairie in pursuit of massive beasts.
Bison. Honored. Sacred to the Dakota. Source of life and food and shelter. Once roaming, grazing, stampeding this land upon which I stand.
While my poem is succinct, limited by wordage requirements in the poetry competition, I’d like to think “The Mighty Tatanka” is powerful. It holds not only the rhythm of carefully selected words, but a story. A story of bison, of Indigenous Peoples, of a way of life, of a culture. It holds, too, honor for the land and of those who first inhabited, and respected, it.
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FYI: My poem is posted on a sign along the West Mankato Trail near the intersection of Owatonna Street and Blue Earth and Sylvia Streets in West Mankato. You can listen to me read my poem by calling 507-403-4038 and entering 406.
Noted Minnesota wildlife photographer Jim Brandenberg’s (right in video) work, including this image of bison, is featured in a gallery bearing his name in Luverne, near Blue Mounds State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2013)
To see Minnesota Bison Conservation Herd bison in Minnesota, visit Minneopa State Park near Mankato, Blue Mounds State Park near Luverne, the Minnesota Zoological Garden, Oxbow Park & Zollman Zoo by Byron, and Spring Lake Park Reserve Bison Prairie in Dakota County.
I took poetic license and photoshopped this image of the button I wore identifying me as a poet at a poetry reading. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2015)
APRIL MARKS National Poetry Month, a time to celebrate poetic verse and poets. As a long-time writer, I unequivocally state that penning poetry is challenging. Why? Every. Single. Word. Counts.
That makes sense given the structure of poems.
I’ve written poetry off and on since high school. All those decades ago, I wrote angst-filled poems reflective of teenage moods, emotions and life. Recently a high school friend returned a poem I wrote for her nearly 50 years ago, a poem handwritten on lined notebook paper. The folded page, yellowed with age, holds words focusing on my future and the ultimate question at life’s end: What good have I done?
The poem dedicated to Janette is not particularly well-written. Yet, it has value in reflecting my thoughts, in opening myself up, in showing vulnerability to a trusted friend. Will I share it with you? No.
My poem, “Final Harvest,” and two pieces of creative nonfiction were selected for publication in this anthology in 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2020)
This scene at Parkview Senior Living in Belview, Minnesota, inspired a poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo July 2019)
The poetry I write, like nearly all of my writing, carries a strong sense of place, often rooted in my agrarian roots. And, like nearly all of my creative writing, my poetry is rooted in truth. A cornstalk growing in a pink bucket in the community room at Parkview Senior Living, where my mom lived before her 2022 death, inspired “Final Harvest.” It is not at all angst-filled. But, in a round about way, it asks the same question: What good have I done?
Trees bud at Falls Creek Park, rural Faribault, in late May 2022. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2022)
TODAY, THE FIRST DAY of spring, hope springs that this long winter of too much snow will soon exit Minnesota. Most Minnesotans, including me, are weary of days marked by new snowfall that has accumulated, pushing this 2022-2023 winter season into top 10 records in our state.
Asparagus, one of my favorite spring vegetables. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
But now, with the official start of a new season on March 20—the season of new life, the season of planting and budding and greening—I feel a mental shift. Psychologically, my mind can envision a landscape shifting from colorless monochrome to vivid greens. I can feel the warmth of warmer days yet to come. I can smell the scent of dirt released, breaking from winter’s grip. I can hear the singsong chatter of returning birds. I can taste asparagus spears snapped from the soil.
A bud beginning to open in late April 2020. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2020)
All of this is yet to come. I understand that. A date on a calendar doesn’t mean spring in Minnesota. That season is realistically weeks away. April can still bring inches of snow.
Crocuses, always the first flower of spring in my flowerbeds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)
But we are edging toward spring. I feel that in temps sometimes reaching just past 40 degrees. I feel it in the warmth of the sun, shining brighter, bolder, longer. I see dwindling snow packs and exposed patches of grass. I hear spring in vehicles splashing through puddles rather than crunching across snow. I see spring, too, in the endless potholes pocking roadways.
The first line in my winning poem, posted roadside in 2011. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo 2011)
On this first day of spring, I am reminded of a poem I penned in 2011, a poem which splashed across four billboards along a road just off Interstate 94 in Fergus Falls in west central Minnesota. To this day, publication of that poem remains an especially rewarding experience for me as a poet.
Billboard number two of my spring-themed poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)
I submitted the poem to the now-defunct Roadside Poetry Project’s spring competition. Poems changed out seasonally in this Fergus Falls Area College Foundation funded contest. It was a bit of a challenge writing a spring-themed poem, as I recall. Not because of the theme, but rather the rules—four lines only with a 20-character-per-line limit. But, as a writer, it’s good to be challenged.
Line three of my Roadside Poetry Project spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)
I suppose you could say the same about Minnesota weather. It’s good to be challenged by an especially snowy winter so we appreciate spring’s arrival even more. Yes, that’s a positive perspective—a way to mentally and psychologically talk myself into enduring perhaps six more weeks of winter in this official season of spring.
The last of four billboards featuring my Roadside Poetry spring poem. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo June 2011)
NOTE: I intentionally omitted any pictures showing snow/winter.
My “Hope of a Farmer” poem exhibited at the Lyon County Historical Society Museum. The exhibit also includes my poem, “Ode to My Farm Wife Mother.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
Randy Walker’s “Prairie Roots” sculpture defines the entrance outside the Red Baron Arena on Marshall’s east side at 1651 Victory Drive. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
My one regret is that Randy and I didn’t stay overnight, allowing more time to explore local sites without feeling rushed. Forty years have passed since I visited Marshall en route to the Black Hills on our honeymoon. The college and county seat town lies 20 miles to the west of my hometown, Vesta in Redwood County, and 140 miles from my current home in Faribault.
A serene country scene just north of Lamberton in southern Redwood County on the southwestern Minnesota prairie. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2013)
This area of Minnesota is the place of my roots. My prairie roots. It is the place of wide open space, expansive skies, small towns and endless acres of cropland.
A prairie sunset photographed from Minnesota State Highway 67 between Redwood Falls and Morgan. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
The land where I grew up inspired my blog name, Minnesota Prairie Roots. The name fits me as a person and a creative. The sparseness of the prairie taught me to notice details, to fully engage my senses. To appreciate the landscape and people. The vastness of the flat land and the star-flushed night sky and achingly beautiful sunsets. Here I connected to the land—bare feet upon dirt, bike tires crunching gravel, dirt etched into my hands from working the soil. Here I connected to the people—down-to-earth, hardworking, linked to the land.
A favorite children’s picture book about the prairie gifted to me by my friend Kathleen.
The tall grasses stretch to the prairie sky. The bent tops of the stems are also meant to resemble hockey sticks given the sculpture’s location outside the ice arena. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
Tall grasses are often associated with the prairie. Yet, those grasses were mostly missing from the landscape of my youth as cultivated crops covered the earth. But on our farm site, a sliver of unmown grass grew between granary and grove and gravel driveway, stretching high, stems bending in the wind. That Little House on the Prairie (Walnut Grove is 20 miles from Vesta) space opened summer afternoons to imaginative play. I hold many memories rooted in those tall grasses, in the prairie.
Depending on the time of day and viewing point, the steel grass stems showcase different colors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
The sculpture reflected in an arena window. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
Just another view of the grass stems, emphasizing the orange and yellow hues. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
Prairie Roots. That name graces a public art sculpture outside the Red Baron Arena in Marshall. Minneapolis artist Randy Walker was commissioned by the City of Marshall in 2018 to create the sculpture reflecting the prairie landscape. I knew in advance of my September visit that I needed to see this artwork if time allowed. We made time. Walker used 210 painted steel poles to represent tall stems of grass, prairie grass. They are colored in hues of yellow, orange, red and green, reflecting seasonal changes and light.
Prairie grass grows within the sculpture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2022)
And in between all those steel stems, prairie grass grows, thrives.
A grasshopper clings to a steel grass stem in the “Prairie Roots” sculpture. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
I even spotted a grasshopper on a steel stalk, taking me back decades to the hoards of grasshoppers that amassed and hopped through that patch of uncut grass on the farm.
Viewing the sculpture toward the field, this perspective shows the meandering course of the Redwood River in the Marshall area on the floor of the gathering space. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo September 2022)
Walker’s sculpture holds visual appeal against an expansive backdrop sky and open field (when viewing the art from the arena entrance outward). Via that perspective, I see the enduring strength of the prairie, and the immensity of land and sky, this place of my Minnesota prairie roots.
Please check back for more posts about my day trip back to southwestern Minnesota in September 2022.
I’ve been published in 13 volumes of “The Talking Stick,” most recently In “Volume 31, Escapes.”(Photo by Colton Kemp)
AS A WRITER, getting published adds to the joy of the craft. I write because it’s my passion, one which I want to share.
I laid the latest copy of The Talking Stick atop a page in a Minnesota atlas to represent escape in a sense of place. Reading and writing also provide an escape. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)
The newest opportunity to share comes via The Talking Stick 31—Escapes, the latest anthology released in September by Park Rapids area-based The Jackpine Writers’ Bloc. The Talking Stick, published now for 31 years, features a collection of creative nonfiction, fiction and poetry by Minnesota writers or those with a connection to our state. This year, editors chose 83 poems, 28 creative nonfiction stories and 18 fiction stories for publication from 82 writers. More than 300 submissions came from 140 writers.
The beginning of my story, “Barbershop Prompt.” (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo October 2022)
I’m delighted to announce that three of my submissions are included in Escapes. My story, “Barbershop Prompt,” won second place and a cash prize in creative nonfiction. “Plans” earned honorable mention in fiction. And my second fictional piece, “Between Sisters,” simply published.
My writing has published in all 13 of these “The Talking Stick” volumes. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo October 2022)
To have my work selected and honored by peers is, for me, reaffirming. This marks the 13th year my writing—a total of 13 poems, eight creative nonfiction stories and nine fiction stories—have published in The Talking Stick. I’ve earned seven honorable mentions and two second placings through the years. Every year I’ve entered this competition, my writing has published. That proves personally validating.
When I first ventured into penning fiction, I did so with hesitancy. My journalism education, background and experience rooted me in gathering information and reporting the facts with no bend to fictionalize. I didn’t know I could write fiction until I tried. And I found I rather enjoy this type of writing. It stretches my creativity in a way that traditional factual writing doesn’t. Yet, even when I write fiction, there is some truth within. I weave into my writing (often in subtle ways) that which I know or care about or which has touched me. I expect most fiction writers would say the same.
Partial winning credits in fiction and the judge’s bio. (Minnesota Prairie Roots edited and copyrighted photo October 2022)
My award-winning short story, “Plans,” focuses on abuse within a family. Abuse has not been my personal experience. But it runs rampant in society. “Plans” focuses on abuse from the perspective of Henrietta, or Henri as her father calls her. He wanted a son, not a daughter. I’m not revealing more except to say the story leaves the reader wondering. And that’s exactly as The Talking Stick editors intend. Submission guidelines call for focusing on short forms, on compressed creations which hint of a longer, more complex story. You get that in my 457-word “Plans.”
Here’s, in part, what fiction judge Bonnie West said about my short story:
What a good story. Very clever, but also very poignant and surprising! Thanks for this delightful and entertaining revenge story!
Bridge Square Barbers, the inspiration for my award-winning story. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo August 2022)
I definitely appreciate West’s comment and that of creative nonfiction judge Marge Barrett. She evaluated “Barbershop Prompt,” praising the energy and cleverness of my story. A sign I spotted in the front window of Bridge Square Barbers by Bridge Square in Northfield prompted me to write this. I am an observer, someone who notices details. That often inspires. Like my winning fiction story, this fact-based story leaves the reader wondering, wanting more. The same can be said for “Between Sisters.”
The Talking Stick is an incredible collection of outstanding writing and I’m honored to be included with so much other Minnesota talent. Each year I see familiar names repeated, but then new voices, too. The small editorial team from the Jackpine Writers’ Bloc deserves recognition also for their hard work. This anthology truly is a labor of love. I’m grateful for their appreciation of Minnesota writers and for their dedication to the craft of writing.
Colton Kemp, a reporter for the Faribault Daily News, wrote a feature on me which published in the Saturday, October 8, edition. I encourage you to read that also by clicking here. I am grateful for Colton sharing my story and for the opportunity to connect with him, another individual passionate about writing.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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