Speak Poetry in San Mateo County

Elise Kazanjian

Elise Kazanjian is a San Francisco poet/writer who spent her childhood in Tian Jin, China. Her poems and essays have appeared in Fog And Light: San Francisco Through The Eyes of the Poets Who Live Here (2021); Marin Poetry Center 2021 Anthology; New Millennium Writings; and the San Francisco Examiner among others. She has worked at Sunset Magazine; J.W. Thompson Advertising; KQED; CCTV, in Beijing, China; and as a pawnbroker. She is a judge, Prose Poem, Soul-Making Keats Literary Competition. She has a collection of over 100 fountain pens and mechanical pencils.

Poems on Belonging

NINE REASONS MY MOTHER INSISTED WE CARRY HANDKERCHIEFS

Because she wanted to protect us. 
Because to her they were suits of armor. 
Because they reminded of a time past.
Because they were pretty.

Old world romantic thinking fused her life, 
European customs instilled deep in memory.
She was in her early twenties when she married,
uprooted, moved to a foreign country. 

She brought familiar items with her to China, 
like handkerchiefs.  Because they must have given confidence 
coping with the unknown, a new language, 
new customs, new faces, new life.

She learned the language,
the customs, acquired new friends, 
adapted to what was required,
all under her code of decorum.

She asked the same thing every time we went out. 
Do you have a clean handkerchief?

My sister and I always said, Yes, knowing
she trusted us would never ask for proof.

Why was it so important? 
Because a handkerchief was 
a talisman akin to St. George’s shield,
no modern dragons could harm us if we had one.
 
Because handkerchiefs were the compass 
to navigate the hard times, provide solace
through despair, through bends in the road
when daily life was at sixes and sevens. 

Because the world would recognize the value
of what the French call politesse, 
on our collective journey through graciousness 
sailing through life unscathed. 
  
Because delicately embroidered violets on lace-embossed 
squares of dainty linen reminded her of an age
when honor, respect, dignity, 
were the essential cornerstones of society.        
.

TO AN UNKNOWN GRANDMOTHER

(For Elise Zadeyan Artinian)

You smile on the sepia photo, promise secrets unknown.
Elegant, slender, calm, you zero into my very being
your ample hair piled high frames a beautiful face, 
your long stylish dress adorned with French lace,
I can almost reach out and touch you. 

Born more than a century ago,
your name is gifted to me.
You are etched in my cells, in my blood.	
I strain to hear your voice
whispering through halls of memory.

Moved by art, literature, European culture,
ridiculed by your stern husband’s jealous sisters
underestimated in your acquired family
you never complained. Your quest for
knowledge, beauty never waned.

Talk to me, I beg. Tell me 
about those nine short years 
you had with my mother
before death claimed you at thirty three
pulled from the child you loved.

Talk to me, I beg. Tell me
all the things a grandmother knows.
Tell me what books you read, how you felt,
what you wrote, tell me about your life
in Istanbul, the city you called Constantinople.

Softly I dream your name.
Elise Zadeyan Artinian, a gentle benediction 
that blesses me and my Armenian soul.
Allow me entry into the rooms of your past.
Your shadowy-embrace nurtures my 86 years.
		
Take me on a journey, reminisce with me.
I want to try on your life like a new dress.
I want to savor you like a splendid dish,
and sate myself knowing I will 
never be lonely again.

Zoe Dorado, hailing from Castro Valley, CA, is a 16-year-old spoken word poet and musician. Having played the drums for over eight years — exploring jazz, funk, and Afro-Cuban styles — she is interested in how rhythm and meter unfold themselves into poetry and the way storytelling integrates itself into different art forms. She is part of the Bayanihan Youth Group of Filipino Advocates for Justice, SPOKES — the youth advisory board of Youth Speaks, and is the 2021 Inaugural Youth Poet Laureate of Alameda County. As a poet, she has collaborated with the SEIU-UHW, creating poetry for healthcare workers; led poetry workshops for youth at the Filipinx Bay Area Cooperative Sama Sama; and has performed in San Francisco’s City Hall to her Lola’s kitchen. Her most recent work can be found in Brenda Art Magazine as well as in the Bigger Picture Project’s “Survival Pending Revolution” campaign — a poetry film collaboration between Youth Speaks and the UCSF Center for Vulnerable Populations advocating for vaccination in the fight against COVID-19, as well as the structural violence that allows this virus to disproportionately impact Filipino nurses like her mom and the health of our communities. As a Filipina-American, Zoe is excited to learn more about literature and music beyond the canon.

Poem on Belonging

IN A PARALLEL

After a conversation with Dad
where he tells me why he never learned Tagalog.

Maybe I imagined it before it happened 
Through the car ride back home

Homebody who traces the map back to wherever it came from 
As in I left this place but here I am

In the backseat
On a banka resting in some ocean

On the back of a tongue forgetting itself 
An itch that is given to you

Because how else to teach the kid 
You only have one in your mouth

What we spill is the shadow:
I don’t call him Tatay, just Dad

Remember though — the tension 
What’s needed to make a taut lineage

A rope to weave through a bloodline 
Thick enough to call itself here

Thin enough to apologize and say thank you 
As in I name myself an undoing

A mathematical proof 
Instinctive like

I am getting inside the car to reach something familiar 
The humming of a radio from another country

Remembered only because we keep trying to mimic its movement 
How waves can be more than just water

This string accelerated through the air by a hand 
Not mine

I don’t know which country I am referring to 
We are both becoming the spectacle stared at

A funhouse, really
A mirror doesn’t have to be poetic

I’m only looking out of habit 
Dad in the front seat

I am just the passenger
The third object is not the road

Not thinking about the time it took us to get here 
I am moving through this mythos

The body remembers
Because we’ve driven home before.

Though sometimes, a child pretends to be asleep 
I just want to be held

Though the driver does too, I think 
As in I’m sorry I keep you awake

But how else can I get you to not look away 
You know how this goes

Because we’ve driven home before 
The body remembers

I am moving through this mythos
Not thinking about the time it took us to get here

The third object is not the road 
I am just the passenger

Dad in the front seat
I’m only looking at you out of habit

A mirror doesn’t have to be poetic 
A funhouse

Really, we are both becoming the spectacle stared at 
I don’t know which country I am referring to

Not mine
This string accelerated through the air by a hand

How waves can be more than just water
Remembered only because we keep trying to mimic its movement

The humming of a radio from another country
I am getting inside the car to reach something familiar

Instinctive like
A mathematical proof

As in I name myself an undoing
Thin enough to apologize and say thank you

But thick enough to call itself here 
A rope to weave through a bloodline

What’s needed to make a taut lineage 
Remember though — the tension

I don’t call him Tatay, just Dad 
What we spill is the shadow:

You only have one in your mouth 
Because how else to teach the kid

The itch that is given to you
On the back of a tongue forgetting itself

On a banka resting in some ocean 
In the backseat

As in I left this place but here I am
Homebody who traces the map back to wherever it came from

Through the car ride back home
Maybe you imagined it before it happened

Watch Zoe perform her poem, “In a Parallel”.

Marta Olson

Marta Olson won first place in the Housing Leadership Council’s 2021 Youth Poetry Competition (6-12 category).

Poems on Belonging

IN THE PARK, 3 BLOCKS AWAY

The grass is wet under our feet as we run 
And it’s dark, so dark
We cannot see
Without the light of the absent moon

At the crest of the hill
We fall to the ground
Starfish on top of the world
Sweat and dew soaking our clothes

Everything is clean and crisp and clear 
The cold sinking into our bones
Deep enough to almost numb
But we’ve never felt so alive

The stars are barely visible
It’s never the perfect night
But you brought bread and apples 
A feast for us alone

We should have been home an hour ago 
But we’ve found a new one
In the park just up the street
Held fast in each other's arms

So we look down on the glowing city 
Ours that glitters in the night
We swear to never leave this home 
And wish to never grow up

THURSDAYS

The morning brings the chirp of keyboards and the clack of birds 
And my family of 5 to the kitchen for breakfast

The fridge is still broken and the milk is gone sour again 
So we celebrate with toast instead of cereal

And then off to work divided into rooms
Where we can still hear each other, just a little less

And it's perfect in an imperfect kind of way 
A house, alive, turned to a home.

NEIGHBORS

Sidewalks aren’t wide enough 
To stay distanced
So I usually walk in the street

And you would think 
All this extra space 
Would drive us apart

But I get more nods than I used to 
An occasional “hello”
A pleasant “Good afternoon!”

A small acknowledgment
That we are all in this together 
Holding on till summer

Now
When I leave my house 
It feels like home too

Julia Santos

Julia Santos is a finalist in the Housing Leadership Council’s 2021 Youth Poetry Competition (6-12 category).

Poem on Belonging

WHERE I’M FROM

I am from a two story pink house
From a place where there’s no neighbors and the lots filled with grass 
I am from a house filled with joy and happiness
And from a house full of adventures and challenges

I am from my lolo and lola
From where I learned to never hold grudges
I am from a place where I learned to always forgive
I am from a place that taught me to never be
scared and never give up
From where I learned na wag ka tumingin sa likod at baka ikaw ay matapilok.

I am from a house that taught me to be always happy.
I am from a place where A celebration to last throughout the years. 
From where I learned to always smile and laugh
at those moments where you felt down.

I am from a place where I learned to respect and love myself first
From a place that taught me to always put yourself first 
I am from a house where I learned that
You can’t love and respect someone 
if you can’t love and respect yourself
I am from a Filipino house.

Lena Hui

Lena Hui is a finalist in the Housing Leadership Council’s 2021 Youth Poetry Competition (6-12 category).

Poem on Belonging

COMING HOME

Home, sweet home
Trace the footsteps of those before.
Walk down the beaten road of the El Camino.
Think of those who fought for their freedom. 
Nourishing at home, the farmers marched for a day, 
hoping for a better generation, a better future.

Home, the sound of home
It empowers who fight for the freedom of home.
Walk the bridges of Golden and Bay,
Collecting the whispering words of those in Angel Island. 
Stitching the pieces of shattered dreams,
Quilt them back together with hopes and dreams.

Home, California dreamin’
Feel the pain of those striped their homes away
Walk the modern shopping mall of Tanforan
Let’s save souls of boys and girls waiting for a train to the camp 
Running away together for a world,
Build a strong community where people keep and protect their dignity

Home, oh, the guiding light
Let our souls fly free
Walk into the long narrow underground tunnel
Where people come together.
Looking up the North Star, they searched for the sign of hope 
Shared hopes and dreams make us stronger.

Working for the future generation to have a better home, a better world.

With our healed dreams, let us walk from San Diego to Sonoma. 
Our hearts, beating as one.

Hope to experience the freedom of Home.

Sarah Hansen

Sarah Hansen is an incoming junior who enjoys writing poetry in her free time. She also enjoys baking and playing with her dog. She was a featured reader in the 2019 Poetry & Community Concert at Burlingame Library. Her work has appeared in the Speak Poetry Vol. 1 anthology.

Poem on Belonging

POETRY IS SAN MATEO COUNTY

San Mateo County is poetry
San Mateo County writes poetry
speaks poetry
sings poetry
seeps poetry

San Mateo County is Brought
alive,
by poetry
because poetry is life
poetry is heart
and soul
poetry is passion
poetry is power
of words
poetry is spoken art
art, of words
of movements
Poetry is San Mateo County

Finley Brownstein

Finley Brownstein is a finalist in the Housing Leadership Council of San Mateo County’s 2021 Youth Poetry Competition (K-5), for his poem, “What Home Means To Me.”

Poem on Belonging

WHAT HOME MEANS TO ME

I have troubles and struggles during my day, but there is somewhere I know I can go, my home, a house is nice with air conditioning, a TV and other luxuries, some people just can’t wait to get home and get on their phone. But to me, a home isn't like that. To me, it’s not just the four walls and a roof, not the soft carpet and somewhere to rest, it's the people that live there, my family, and they are not just the people that make me feel better, they are my home, they are the brick and mortar the roof over my head, they are my resting place, when a member is out it's like a hole in the roof, one less shingle to block out the rain. One less person to ease my pain. When I fail to keep the house in tact, the walls crumble, but that's the time when I become their home, and apologize for the hurt I made them feel, I become the roof over their heads, I protect them, I block out the lightning and hail, I hold up my family, my roof, until they are strong, and together we work as a family, forming a home, a barrier blocking out the discomforts of the world.

Rachel Cronin

Rachel Cronin won first place in the Housing Leadership Council’s 2021 Youth Poetry Competition, K-5 category, for her poem, “All That Matters.”

Poem on Belonging

ALL THAT MATTERS

Home.
What is the meaning of home?
It’s a place where
you can Connect
you can Laugh
you can Express
you can Cry.
Home is the deepness in your heart
The shallows of your emotions
The positive thought of always belonging.
Your home holds your true self.
Your home holds your companions,
the companions that will stay with you for the rest of your life
whether you are close or far.
Home will leave joy.
Home will leave hope.
Home will leave fear.
Home will leave adventure.
Home will leave love.
Home is where you’ll want to go at the end of the day.
No matter what you are feeling or experiencing,
It will all flush away as you enter the comforting environment of home. Your home may be big
Your home may be small
But whether it’s a shack or a mansion
or even a place in your heart
all that matters is what it means to you.

Rachel is a contributor to the collaborative poem, “The Many Voices Word Karaoke”.

Ronit Das

Ronit Das is currently in 7th grade and was the youngest finalist in the 2020 Housing Leadership Council Youth Poetry Competition. His work is published in the anthology, I Have a Dream: Inaugural Poems for a New Generation (2021). He is also featured in the program, “Celebrating Young Poets,” produced by The Midpen Media Center and in “Breathe,” a Youth & Ecopoetry Project funded by The Academy of American Poets and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.

Poem on Belonging

ANCESTRY

We stand here the present day
Thanks to those here long before
We changed a lot from back all the way
When we didn’t have smartphones and more

The people then shaped us now
More than we could ever know
The ones before us who would plow
Through the trouble for us to grow

Their work for us
Our work for the next
We can give a food surplus
Make their lives less complex

And we will continue to grow
As we join together, connect
And we will together know
Or find out at least, what's next?

Ronit is a contributor to the collaborative poems, “Breathe” and “The Many Voices Word Karaoke”.

Haiku at Filoli

A sanctuary for healing and building connections for all people, Filoli boasts “654 acres of beauty nestled along the slopes of California’s coastal range… which includes a nature preserve with 5 distinct ecosystems.” In acknowledging Filoli’s role in ecology and conservation and as an arts and cultural hub, it is important to also highlight how the staff addresses climate change and sustainability while retaining historic viewsheds. Filoli’s Kara Newport outlines the process and challenges of adapting a timeless garden in this article in the Forum Journal, vol. 32 no. 3, 2018, p. 61-69. Project MUSE.

In 2020, Filoli’s Annual Haiku Contest was launched as a way to share stories and memories across cultures, and help create a sense of place and belonging. Along with First and Second Prize, it includes a special category for poets below 18. On average, Filoli receives over 1,000 haiku submissions each year inspired by its landscapes, and the top 10 poems chosen by San Mateo County Poet Laureate Aileen Cassinetto are displayed as poetry installations in the Spring Garden in the month of May. In 2022, along with the Annual Haiku Competition, the Filoli Ecopoetry Award was launched to encourage submissions that highlight the connection between humans and the environment.

Ecopoems

Below are Best Under 18 winning poems:

2024 Best Under 18

Vermillion wings,
That bear the name of a queen,
Flutter, point skyward
–Eloisa Lin

2023 Best Under 18

Planting in the ground,
one seed sprouts before another,
slowly turning flowers.
–Sophia Lagana

2022 Best Under 18

I'm born as a seed
The wind carries my future
A new life begins
–Katherine Kelly

2021 Best Under 18

The soft hum of wings
darting among the flowers
seeking winter blooms
–Lydia Becker

2020 Best Under 18

short and dense hedges 
faded red, perfectly trimmed
run around the path
–Eli Schlanger

Other poetry activities at Filoli.