In partnership with the National Youth Poet Laureate Program, Urban Word, and Daly City Public Library, the program celebrates teen poets who live or attend school in Daly City and exhibit a commitment to artistic excellence, civic engagement, leadership, and social justice.
San Mateo County’s poet laureate Aileen Cassinetto said Daly City’s youth program amplifies the role of youth in the community and the power of the literary arts in inspiring civic engagement. “I see the Youth Poet Laureate as the city’s literary ambassador, creating necessary spaces so that the voices of other young people can be heard,” Cassinetto said in a statement. “I see this role as giving shape to our young people’s hopes, fears, perspectives, sense of purpose, and sense of community.”
DCPLA executive director Victoria Magbilang said that one of her visions for the organization is to reach middle and high schoolers who are difficult to engage. “This program was a perfect way for DCPLA to remain relevant in a way that lends itself to distanced engagement while the libraries are closed and to encourage the arts in our community, something I’m extremely passionate about,” Magbilang said in a statement.
Inaugural Daly City Youth Poet Laureate Madeleine Hur was named Daly City Youth of the Year in 2021.
UPDATE: Chloe Chou was named the 2022-2023 South San Francisco Youth Poet-in-Residence concurrently with her 2022-2023 Daly City Youth Poet Laureate appointment. As part of her project, Chloe completed a chapbook published by the South San Francisco Public Library in 2023. Read Chloe’s book.
The search for South San Francisco’s Inaugural Youth Poet-in-Residence is on!
SSF Youth Poet-in-Residence is a one-year position (May 2022-2023) awarded to a unique individual committed to engaging the public through poetry. The goal of this residency is to celebrate South City’s diverse cultures through artistic expression and to encourage dialogue and unity under the leadership of the Youth Poet-in-Residence.
The Youth Poet-in-Residence must present their original poetry, in-person or virtually, at four engagements during their term. Possible engagements include Youth and Government Day, City Council meetings, and library workshops.
This residency is open to all high school students who go to school or live in South San Francisco. Applicants may be rising freshmen or graduating seniors.
Youth Poet-in-Residence will receive $500 at the end of their term (May 2023). Please visit SSF.net for the guidelines and submission form.
Launched in 2019, the Menlo Park Youth Poetry Contest celebrates youth literacy and creative expression. Hundreds of students in grades 2 through 12 submitted original works of poetry on the themes, “If I Were a Book” (2019) and “My Community” (2020).
Inaugural winning poems were featured in Speak Poetry Vol. 2 (Emilia Hansen, 2nd grade; Sophia Gamini, 4th grade; Jamie Zou, 8th grade).
Sophie Mateja (she/her) is a poet, editor, climate activist and high school student. Her work has been praised by critics for its “evocative language and deep insight,” taking first prize at numerous local competitions in the past two years. She was declared a finalist in the Palm Beach Poetry Festival’s ekphrastic poetry contest and was published in Inlandia’s Volume X Spring issue. Her work has also been published frequently in the Half Moon Bay Review and other anthologies including AIPF’s di-vêrsé-city. In addition to writing, she enjoys playing orchestral classical music as the principal violinist of the Santa Cruz County Youth Symphony. A coastside resident, Sophie works as a volunteer staffer on political campaigns and is one of the 27 appointed Youth Commissioners of the County of San Mateo.
Watch Sophie read her ecopoem, “Coming Home,” at “The Future of Women’s History,” a panel discussion presented by the Commission on the Status of Women as part of Women’s History Month 2021 (18:16).
Corey Weinstein is a retired homeopathic physician whose poetry has been published in Vistas and Byways, The New Verse News, Forum, California State Poetry Society and Jewish Currents. He currently attends writing classes at Osher Lifelong Learning Institute in San Francisco and hosts their Poetry Circle. Weinstein has also been published in a number of medical/academic publications. He was an advocate for prisoner rights as the founder of California Prison Focus, and he led the American Public Health Association’s Prison Committee for many years. In his free time, he plays the clarinet in a local jazz band, his synagogue choir and woodwind ensembles.
Poem on Belonging
ID
I’m a down to earth ankle dusted mud splattered poet rooted in the moment of what is right now obverse of obscure anti-opaque plain text stain glass clear held in the tentacles of my time Yes a pure bred, full blood pickle eating, klezmer chirping 99% Ashkenazi by DNA. Full throated, Yiddish singing clarinet playing, temple going, Sh’ma and Barachu bowing, flat A’d northside Chicawwgo jewboy, dawn praying chorus chanting, herring eating, non-Zionist, survivor, ‘cause we left before Hitler, ‘cause only slightly tainted from the genetic tragedies birthed by a 1,000 years alone in the Pale. Yes, bacon eating, matzo loving, draft dodging, protest marching, and as always and ever… Keeping tabs on what is good and what is not good for the Jews.
Susanne Schubert works as Assistant Professor at Skyline College. Besides teaching chemistry, Susanne mentors students while they are taking their first steps as researchers. In her chemistry classroom, Susanne spreads awareness and information about sustainability and current and past great minds from all over the world in the field of chemistry.
Poem on Belonging
Note from the translators: Friedrich Rueckert (1788-1866) was a German poet and translator, who translated works from Arabic, Chinese, Hindi, Hebrew, and Farsi into German. His work is very much influenced also by these cultures, and the original poem appeared in the anthology Die Weisheit des Brahmanen – which translates to The Wisdom of the Brahmins. We chose this excerpt from his collection because it talks about the importance of languages and bringing cultures together. We believe that it is as current now as it was in the 1800s.
Mit jeder Sprache mehr, die du erlernst, befreist
Du einen bis daher in dir gebundnen Geist,
With every language you master,
A spirit is set free within you
That until now was bound
Der jetzo tätig wird mit eigner Denkverbindung,
Dir aufschließt unbekannt gewesne Weltempfindung,
The freed spirit strives to make connections and
unlocks an all-encompassing understanding of the world
Empfindung, wie ein Volk sich in der Welt empfunden;
Nun diese Menschheitsform hast du in dir gefunden.
It senses the world in the way it is sensed
by those whose language we learn
Ein alter Dichter, der nur dreier Sprachen Gaben
Besessen, rühmte sich, der Seelen drei zu haben.
A wise poet once mastered three languages and proudly proclaimed
That he had three spirits
Und wirklich hätt‘ in sich nur alle Menschengeister
Der Geist vereint, der recht wär‘ aller Sprachen Meister.”
And only if all human spirits came together as one,
Can we understand the language of all
The original German text is in the public domain. The English translation is used here with permission of the authors.
Sanjyot Pia Walawalkar works as an Associate Professor and Equity and Outreach Librarian at Skyline College. Besides helping students develop their critical information literacy and research skills, she leads the library’s social-justice-centered programming efforts. Her research interests include critical information literacy, metaliteracy, and critical global citizenship education.
Poems
SPRACHE / LANGUAGE
Original German by Friedrich Rueckert (1788-1866)
Translated into English by Sanjyot Pia Walawalkar and Susanne Schubert
Mit jeder Sprache mehr, die du erlernst, befreist
Du einen bis daher in dir gebundnen Geist,
With every language you master,
A spirit is set free within you
That until now was bound
Der jetzo tätig wird mit eigner Denkverbindung,
Dir aufschließt unbekannt gewesne Weltempfindung,
The freed spirit strives to make connections and
unlocks an all-encompassing understanding of the world
Empfindung, wie ein Volk sich in der Welt empfunden;
Nun diese Menschheitsform hast du in dir gefunden.
It senses the world in the way it is sensed
by those whose language we learn
Ein alter Dichter, der nur dreier Sprachen Gaben
Besessen, rühmte sich, der Seelen drei zu haben.
A wise poet once mastered three languages and proudly proclaimed
That he had three spirits
Und wirklich hätt‘ in sich nur alle Menschengeister
Der Geist vereint, der recht wär‘ aller Sprachen Meister.”
And only if all human spirits came together as one,
Can we understand the language of all
Note from the translators: Friedrich Rueckert (1788-1866) was a German poet and translator, who translated works from Arabic, Chinese, Hindi, Hebrew, and Farsi into German. His work is very much influenced also by these cultures, and the original poem appeared in the anthology Die Weisheit des Brahmanen – which translates to The Wisdom of the Brahmins. We chose this excerpt from his collection because it talks about the importance of languages and bringing cultures together. We believe that it is as current now as it was in the 1800s.
The original German text is in the public domain. The English translation is used here with permission of the authors.
A MARRIAGE — PRELUDE AND FINALE
prelude
as I cuddled into my bed last night
the soul still drenched, holding the damp moments
lush with the warmth of your skin,
eyes moistened
the vase is now empty
tired flowers have now dried
dried petals sit clustered
among strands of golden hair
my heart aches, sweet sadness and pain
while love deepens and desires are gently stoked
the night is still dark
when in my girlhood, my heart was opening its petals
it was trampled ruthlessly
will your tenderness and warmth help it bloom again?
but, I hear a cacophony
though headlights have gone dim
and wars are fought far away
I fear, the gentle whispers of my heart will drown
in the clang of tradition and the tumult of modernity
the spirit is shapeless, intangible, all encompassing
but, the transitoriness of modern life
of instant-mixes and buy-one-get-one-frees
will it let our spirits seep through our pores
and caress each other
and carry the messages of our hearts and bodies?
I fear.
Written May 30, 2005
finale
missed him.. miss him..
4 years now
disappeared? never even existed?
man of my dreams, stayed in my dreams
never realized
glimpses of hope
4 years that's all
memories at furnishing stores
dreams lost in nurseries
no home, no love, no sweet voice cries mama
so many memories
of holding tight as things slipped away
of sadness cloaked in painful smiles
of beautiful places and alcohol stench
of loneliness in togetherness
empty promises for a broken heart
mutilated
stomped all over
yet lovable, stoic
my phoenix heart
letters written
poems composed
songs sung
never for me
my art never an iphone wallpaper
my juicy mangoes not as tasty as her shriveled grapes
countless lunches packed, dinners served
giving forgiving letting go
being there giving and more giving
accident scene and imprisonment
betrayals and abandonment
my fault —
loved
nurtured
a faulty seed in a barren land
my husband, a fake weak man
Written April 29, 2016
Rob Williams co-edited the Lambda Literary Award-Nominated anthology, From Boys to Men: Gay Men Write About Growing Up (Carroll & Graf). He received his MFA in Fiction from Columbia University. His prose and poetry have appeared in Versal, Maisonneuve, San Diego Citybeat, The Racket, and others. He lives in San Francisco and is a professor of English and Literature at Skyline College.
Poem on Belonging
SKEIN
When giving the signal to his birds, they arose in the air with him for their journey to the moon
—Francis Godwin, The Strange Voyage and Adventures of Domingo Gonsales to the World in the Moon (1638)
Hours after class, in my office,
I meet with a student I haven’t seen
in over three weeks, wondering where she’s been.
She tells me she hasn’t come to class because
she’s afraid for her parents.
They came from El Salvador. Saved
their money to get across
the border, paid the coyotes, couldn’t bring
everyone only the clothes on their backs
and one small bag that carried
a photo of the family, all of them
together, the last time.
This was before she was born, before
she was the fleck of gold in their eyes.
She shows me the photo on her phone. Faces
smiling through a Polaroid-orange haze.
Her eyes wet with tears, that’s my tia and my
grandmother and grandfather, people she
has never met.
My parents aren’t safe here now, she tells me,
I’m afraid they will get caught.
Black-wet mascara makes a trail
down her face, I wish I could carry them
to someplace safe, the moon
maybe, she says and laughs, wipes her cheeks on her jacket sleeves,
zips her backpack—leaves—but not before promising to
turn in the missing work.
I believe she will, and then I’m left
alone in my office where I think about
an essay, a tall-tale really,
read in a long-ago linguistics class
about a man who, aided by two dozen
harnessed geese in their migratory pattern,
flew to the moon, and I imagine my student, her parents,
and a skein of geese, silent as they are lifted up through the silvery clouds.
Dena Rod is a writer, editor, and poet based in the San Francisco Bay Area. A graduate of San Francisco State University, they have a M.A. in English Literature. Their debut poetry collection Scattered Arils is now out from Milk & Cake Press and in its third printing. Rod’s literary endeavors include curating poetry showcases, speaking on panels, and visiting classrooms for community engagement with a focus on queer and trans Iranian diaspora issues. They ran the RADAR Productionsweblog, were the former Creative Nonfiction Editor at homology lit, and the former Managing Editor of Argot Magazine, a Webby-nominated queer non-profit. In 2020, they were selected to tour with Sister Spit, debuted the chapbook swallow a beginning, and joined The Rumpus’ Features Team. They’re a fellow of RADAR Productions’ Show Us Your Spines Residency, Kearny Street Workshop’s Interdisciplinary Writer’s Lab, and Winter Tangerine’s Summer Writer’s Workshop.
Persis Karim is poet, editor and professor of World & Comparative Literature at San Francisco State University. She holds the Neda Nobari Endowed Chair and serves as director of the Center for Iranian Diaspora Studies. Her poetry has been published in numerous journals including: Callaloo, Reed Magazine, The Raven’s Perch, and The New York Times. She is the editor of three anthologies of Iranian diaspora literature and is glad to be tending to her own poetry manuscript, Accidental Architecture, which was selected a finalist for the Catamaran Review Prize in June 2019.
Persis featured in the Peninsula Virtual Bookfest co-hosted by the San Mateo County Libraries; and in “Empower Women, Empower Earth: Poetry Reading & Panel Discussion” hosted by Skyline College.
Poem on Belonging
ANTHEM
To stand in one place and shelter
against the invisible and unknown
is to stop the rolling wheel of my heart,
seeking the next road, the next eye
full of beauty. I was not meant to be fearful—
to hold my love inside, indoors, like a captive
waiting to be unchained. I live for molecules
and patterns, the architecture of a flower,
the flight and song of sparrow, gull, cormorant,
each animal and tree an anthem—
the only true thing I want to abide.
She didn’t seem to notice how the squash seeds on the counter took over. They were the first to invade the area around the kitchen sink. Later, grape, tomato, eggplant seeds and fava beans found their way onto a cutting board or on a small dish. When we tried to move or discard them, she balked and told us she would move them. Small jars and glasses began to appear: sprig of thyme, twig of red begonia, elbow of spearmint. She guarded them as if they were her children. Outside, under the Madrone that she took as a sapling on a walk in the hills with my father She built a make-shift nursery. Under the tree’s filtered shade, she cultivated seedlings of every sort: annuals, perennials, cuttings of pomegranate, fig, lemon. She had no desire to buy plants— they spoke to her, greeted her as if she were a fairy sent to rescue and cajole them into future seasons.
I see now how seeds a way for her to belong. She was making a home — giving us and them roots. This was her habit— a way to propagate while she inhabited the world Sometimes walking with her in the neighborhood, we shrank as we passed a neighbor’s house where she had snipped a cutting, or crossed their property to pick seeds or pods —Lilac, Salvia, Ceanothus, Oak. It mattered not whether they were tree or bush, native or exotic. To her they all belonged equally in her garden.
Now, I find myself with pockets full of seeds. Last week red clover, this week rattlesnake grass. And after the yellow lupine pods harden, I’ll gather those too. Some people think of this as stealing or poor man’s gardening, but it is my duty. I remember her holding acorns in her right hand, my palm in her left. Like a bird, she moved life across time and space, making things come alive. She believed in giving plants a place to rest after the exertion of a bloom. She understood the hard seed of hope that must realize its possibility. I know this need I to cultivate beginnings.
Speak Poetry in San Mateo County 