Eight chosen lines(or pieces of them) from a gathering of 53 submitted by festival goers on Sunday. Their names and lines as submitted follow the poem. And you said you couldn't write poetry!
It seems it's always Sunday,
Sunday when we gotta go tutu's
help clean da garden, all kapakahi
since tutukane died.
Da bamboo patch he planted towards
da back- once slender and elegant like
how tutu used to look in old black and white
pictures- now so thick, my rusted clippers
no make difference
Overripe papayas break under mynah bird beaks
while torch ginger with heavy flower heads
bend like skinny dogs in da wind.
Even in da late afternoon
it's still so hot ova hea, I gotta
put down dis shovel, try rememba
how da garden used to look like
small kid time.
Neva had heleconia or dis kind
bird of paradise, Too much rubbish
tutukane would say, but always had
one patch vegetables. Eggplant, squash
and Hawaiian chili peppa fo make dinner
You going get cracks you touch dat
tutu would yell from da back screen door
but tutukane no mind my sista and me
take couple cherry tomatoes made ripe
by da Waianae sun, juice running down
our lips while we pluck handfuls
of yellow ginger for our hair.
Hot ova hea, gas stay expensive. Woe is me. Jonathan Wong
The bamboo grows thick and my clippers stay rusted. Colby Sato
Mynah birds dreaming of dinosaur days. Barb Landau
You goin' get cracks Lisa Ann Katagiri
It seems it is always Sunday here even when it rains John Wat
the skinny dog sleeps under the banyan tree; dreaming of books Annie Thomas
Sinking into early May; days of vog, overripe papayas, and afternoon shadows, shifting like startled koi
Bamboo- tall, slender, elegant, waves to me in the breeze like my lover anonymous