2024 Readers’ Choice Award
Rattle is proud to announce the winner of the 2024 Rattle Poetry Prize Readers’ Choice Award:
Dave Newman
Trafford, Pennsylvania
for
“I’m Trying to Lead This Old-Timey Veteran”
The 2024 Readers’ Choice Award was selected from among the Rattle Poetry Prize finalists by subscriber vote. Only those with active subscriptions including issue #86 were eligible. In another close race between the top three poems, “I’m Trying to Lead This Old-Timey Veteran” earned 18.4% of the votes and the $5,000 award.
Here is what some of those readers had to say about the winner:
This poem delivers us into a world most of us rarely see, a veterans’ hospital. The authenticity of it—the cast of characters deftly described, the speaker just barely appearing in the poem but keenly/warily observing everyone else—speak to a depth of knowledge of this place. I love the brevity and spareness of this poem, how it doesn’t lead us to think or feel, but mostly just reports—“guys whose only options // were factory or minimum wage / or living with their parents forever // and this woman / who was in the Air Force …” We know one room is small, but other than that there’s no description of the place, only the people, and even those details are told with a Hemingway-esque sparseness: “his legs don’t work well,” “she is often loud.” And can we even talk about how the whole three-page poem is a single sentence, but it moves like eyes glancing around a room? Or how the whole poem only has six commas, yet we always know where we are because of the line breaks paced like nervous breathing? It’s all observation, mostly neutral and occasionally sardonic, until the end, when the kicker comes—the speaker realizing that the compassion he’s been hoping to have is actually happening in abundance all around him, in these people he’s been sent to care for, to work with. We get so much out of this poem—the place, the hinted age of the speaker (I’d say young), and people who are mostly in a place they don’t want to be. The poem is an exercise in how little you can include and still paint a living, multi-dimensional picture.
—Amy Miller
I wish I could think of something instructive or academic to say, as to why “Old-Timey” is the best, in my opinion. But I can’t. It’s simply that this poem sparked an unexpected realization that compassion comes in small spaces, small gestures, like the low-grade shock of static electricity.
—Leslie Hodge
After multiple readings, I’ve chosen Dave Newman’s poem, “I’m Trying to Lead This Old-Timey Veteran.” It was a difficult choice, but the voice and the observant way in which this poem captures this particular experience won me over. He doesn’t shy away from the repercussions of our military engagements, nor from the limitations of our medical system. Best of all, the speaker’s honesty and self-awareness at the end of the poem call on the reader to reflect on their own assumptions and stereotypes, to seek to dig deeper into our own reservoirs of compassion. And he does all this without any grating preachiness or overt ‘lessons.’
—Betsy Mars
Real life in honest words. An important reminder of the importance of shared humanity and kindness.
—Linea Jantz
The story of the poem (the heart of it) keeps my attention all the way through. I feel like I’m there. Those snatches of direct dialogue make all the difference. I like connecting with flesh-and-blood people (whether or not they’re made-up). And in this poem, I do.
—Priscilla Atkins
David Newman’s poem packs an emotional wallop, and I admire the structure, the couplets breaking up the narrative that give the poem a kind of delicacy that enhances the storytelling. And I, who have been known to curse in poems, admire the use of “fuck” in the last line, and how it plays off the woman’s crude use of “cunts” earlier in the poem.
—Jim Daniels
To read all of the finalist poems, pick up a copy of Rattle #86, or read them one at a time this month as daily poems at Rattle.com.
Dave Newman was the winner, but this year’s voters were as divided as ever, and all of the finalists had their own enthusiastic supporters. Every year, it’s an interesting and informative experience reading the commentary. To provide a sense of that, here is a small sample of what our subscribers said about the other finalists:
On Stephen Allen’s “The Sadness of Morning Glories Out of Season”:
“The Sadness of Morning Glories Out of Season” by Stephen Allen, is a truly amazing poem. Besides being perfectly formed, with deft and original phrasing (e.g. “the seasons slide”), it has multiple layers of meaning, starting with a simple description of a familiar-to-most sight—dead morning glory vines—and ending, for me at least, with a sad, complex and hauntingly beautiful depiction of someone being lost to dementia. Is all that really in this little poem? I think it is.
—Patricia Crosby
There were some great sonnets in this winter issue, and the sonnet within these ten poems is the one I think deserves to win. Why? While many of the free verse poems had some FANTASTIC metaphors and clever things going on, I love seeing an old, classic, traditionally written English sonnet, and yet, the sonnet feels modern because of the enjambment and line breaks used so well for effect and to evoke feeling, like “The sleep/ of flowers…” or “until some human intervention drags” which felt like it dragged because of the pause. I love the cleverness of the diction in the poem, particularly the monarch or nobility replacing nobility feel as a metaphor for the old being replaced by the new, with words like “usurping” and “begins its reign.” I love the effect of the three turns, the second turn being my favorite, and to me, the most dramatic, within that wonderful line “But this is a poem about grief … as if all times were well defined.” That did it for me. What I LOVE in this sonnet is that the traditional yet/but/and word in the turn was placed in the third stanza and then, the final turn doesn’t happen till the last line “usurping thoughts and leaving ghosts behind” (line gave me chills) as the wistful reflections literally usurp the speaker’s current thoughts and linger, still, in the speaker’s mind. Well done! Super unique sonnet, very clever and well-wrought.
—Zachary Huneycutt
On Demetrius Buckley’s “The We”:
Buckley’s tongue-flipping delight in language electrically propels their text through a maelstrom of fragmented identity with an unstoppable momentum that becomes an answer to its question.
—John Paul Caponigro
I’ll vote for Demetrius Buckley’s poem. It had so many gut-punch lines that I’m still thinking about: “we open dreams/ like tuna packs, mix that shit/ in a plastic bowl and bang it.”; “we dummy enough/ to kill over a 36-cent noodle.” I loved the strange and beautiful specificity of his language, and the emotional crescendo from his opening lines (“we cars, we jewelry. we hey hey”) to the last stanza’s struggle to be heard.
—Betsy Mitchell Martinez
On Wendy Cannella’s “Reading Your Posthumous Collection Backward”:
I love the format which highlights our wish to go back from the ending of a life and visit the earlier stages. This poem kept my interest all the way through, I read it several times. It is a different sort of elegy that pays tribute to an outstanding poet.
—Ginny Connors
I choose Wendy Cannella’s “Reading Your Posthumous Collection Backward” for its heartfelt elegance and because it does something I haven’t seen in a poem before, stair-stepping backward through a poet’s life and work by reading his collected or selected poems from end to start, like a film run in reverse. There’s sheer pleasure in Cannella’s language, the “love of beauty / with a little ugly in it.”
—Penelope Moffet
On Dante Di Stefano’s “To My Brother”:
In the end, Dante Di Stefano’s “To My Brother” scuffled its way to the top. His simple eloquence floored me, describing so vividly the ordinary moments we’ve all lived through as if they were momentous, childhoods so meaningful yet so easily lost. This poem slowly builds a structure on its poignancy and contradictions, on its spell of Americana. And the final line “in front of Denny’s at 2am,” is the stars & stripes flag hoisted to the castle, or the treehouse, that’s been built to his brother, stanza by stanza. A wonderful, wondrous poem.
—Kerry Rawlinson
The structure and format was safe and yet unpredictable like a brother. The use of the word, word as support to unlikely adjectives. The poem is touching without being sentimental. I have 3 brothers and no sisters. While I have written poems about them, Di Stephano’s poem reincarnates his (hers?) memory and physicality of his/her brother in spectral and physical spaces and times.
—Sally Heflin
On Chad Frame’s “Claw Machine”:
That’s a hell of a poem. Great details, subtle build, best closing lines I’ve read in a long time—absolutely perfect how it ties the whole poem shut.
—Matt Mason
The poem focuses on an unusual physical setting for the action that takes place, which far exceeds any expected meaning for that space—a see-through unit at the front of a commercial establishment housing toys for whomever can manage to skillfully claw and grab one, having inserted the requisite payment into the slot provided. The poet not only develops the grief of the speaker, when his affection for a buddy is refused, but the grief of that friend, whose inability to handle the gesture so overwhelms him, he resorts to violence. It thus raises an important issue about human disregard for particular groups of people—there are those who suffer for lack of respect and appreciation of difference, yes, but there are also those who suffer due to their lack of compassion, needing to refuse another’s affection by ripping up the gift. The narrative in this poem asks us to question how we as readers give and receive expressions of positive regard.
—Carol Barrett
On Amy Hughes’s “Safety Drill”:
My children are adults now, so I have not experienced firsthand what it’s like to have a note from the teacher announcing a Shooting Drill will be taking place. As I read Amy’s poem, I was suddenly that mother. The blending of the storylines—the school’s safety drill using the language a child can understand; the father teaching a daughter about guns and hunting; and then the Uvalde school shooting—showed the poet’s mastery of writing a braid poem. This is a poem I will never forget reading. Hats off to Amy for writing such a visceral and important poem. Every legislature should hear this poem, and re-read it often. Can we make that happen? Please!
—Shawn Aveningo Sanders
“Safety Drill” is interesting, easy to read, and authentic. No AI wrote this one. Amy Hughes connects with her reader to evoke emotion. Voice is good, movement is smooth, and language is fresh. The poet takes a time-worn theme—the desire of a mother to protect her daughter—and presents it in a non-hackneyed, non-melodramatic fashion. Parental love is shown in a non-corny, non-mawkish way. “Safety Drill” is powerful and realistic. It’s engaging, kinetic, and compassionate. It makes us cry and then go hug our children to keep them safe.
—Herb Kitson
On Lance Larsen ’s “Dear First Draft of This Poem”:
“Dear First Draft of This Poem” by Lance Larsen has the savor of a first draft, full of raw details, while following through on its premise as any fully-fleshed poem should do. The tension between its completeness and its tentativeness makes for a thrilling read.
—David Pedergnana
Lance’s poem is delightfully real, with uncontrived, wonderfully fresh imagery and an intimate, conversational tone that is so comfortable with self-disclosure. I found myself jumping into his poem to immerse, like him, in the joy of writing; with the delight of re-living the past, perhaps not-so-past; exploring the connections between images, notes, and meaning; with allowing—or realizing—the poem as a gift of self-discovery; and with enjoying a state of almost-happiness.
—Jo Anne Moser Gibbons
On Betsy Mitchell Martinez’s “Yes Day”:
I’m going with Betsy Martinez, “Yes Day.” Something simple & musical and everyday-magical that appeals to me.
—Michelle Frost
“Yes Day” is a perfectly executed poem—relatable, highly engaging, original but not edgy enough to be off-putting, and nothing extraneous or sloppy. From the easy familiarity of the opening scene to the brilliant concluding phrase, “electric want,” the poem draws me in all the way through.
—Margaret Robinson
On Evan Schneider’s “Rural Education”:
This poem tells a striking story that feels like a lived experience. As we’re pulled into the narrative to witness the autopsy of a farm animal, an outrageous action sidesteps the main event, and we’re left to question the “inside” of a human animal. The lesson is spelled out at the end, and it needs to be. Many issues go unspoken, especially those behind toxic masculinity. A small violence is committed in the poem, but we sense that larger ones are to come. The lesson illustrated and then captioned, helps us gain insight and compassion for the transgressor, who has initially repulsed us.
—Maria Pavone
Growing up in the south where insane things could and would happen regularly, I liked this poem’s frank, surreal narration of an impromptu dissection of a cow on a football field (weird enough on its own, right?), then gets stranger with one attendee putting the cow’s eye in his mouth. Whether the incident happened or not doesn’t really matter; the truth getting in the way of a good story. It’s resultant analysis of fear, and beauty and hiding seems even the icing on this morbid cake.
—Michael Loderstedt