search
June 26, 2011

Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry

Edited and introduced by Wesley McNair, Maine Poet Laureate

Maine is such a diverse state, it can sometimes seem unfamiliar even to people who live here. Robert Chute of Poland Spring explores that theme in this week's poem about Down East.

click image to enlarge

Robert M. Chute

Robert M. Chute, a sixth-generation descendant of Thomas Chute, first settler of what is now Windham, was born in Naples and now lives in Poland. He is professor emeritus in biology at Bates College. His poetry series, "Thirteen Moons," has been republished with translations in French and Passamaquoddy. He received the Maine State Chapbook Award for "Samuel Sewall Sails for Home" and the Beloit Poetry Journal's Chad Walsh Award for the poem "Heat Wave in Concord." His recent poetry anthology, "Constellations," is a collection of his story poems. A novel, "Coming Home," was published in 2009.

Take Heart: A Conversation in Poetry is produced in collaboration with the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance. Poem copyright © 2010 by Robert M. Chute. Reprinted from "Maine Taproot," Encircle Publications, 2010, by permission of Robert M. Chute. Questions about submitting to Take Heart may be directed to David Turner, Special Assistant to the Maine Poet Laureate, at 228-8263 or poetlaureate@mainewriters.org.

 

Driving Down East

By Robert M. Chute

Crossing the Penobscot on Route One

we enter a different country. Our home state

on both sides of course, all part of the Main,

but the dull green rainbow bridge was a

suspension of disbelief as well as steel.

 

At Verona Island we expected a guard house

with a deadpan downeaster in oilskins to

silently check our visas and wave us through.

 

The houses were familiar clapboard and shingle

but smaller, pinched between wild lands,

barrens and ledges edging the sea. Life

on our inland lakes with its jumble of cobbles

seemed safe but not these wave-scoured ledges.

 

Life on the edge salts speech with words

as strange to us as to Summer People. Words

regional, individual, or invented to toll the tourists.

 

Everyone is "from away": we are, they are,

but all in one bag together in the final drag

dumped on the deck for culling.

 

Were you interviewed for this story? If so, please fill out our accuracy form

Send Question/Comment to the Publisher




Further Discussion

Here at PressHerald.com we value our readers and are committed to growing our community by encouraging you to add to the discussion. To ensure conscientious dialogue we have implemented a strict no-bullying policy. To participate, you must follow our Terms of Use.

Questions about the article? Add them below and we’ll try to answer them or do a follow-up post as soon as we can. Technical problems? Email them to us with an exact description of the problem. Make sure to include:
  • Type of computer or mobile device your are using
  • Exact operating system and browser you are viewing the site on (TIP: You can easily determine your operating system here.)


Most...