Mere months from the $15,000 fence repair at the Charles Nelson house, another driver has gone through the fence at the corner of a Sandridge and Bay Avenue. A round-about would be the best solution for this dangerous corner.

April is Poetry Month and, as a poet, I have pretty much ignored it, except for the writing of a couple new poems shared with friends. What is poetry good for anyway, you might ask? Does it add to anyone’s bottom line? Does it soothe the soul? Can it heal our, perhaps fatally wounded, democracy?

I guess it depends. First of all, who reads poetry anymore — I mean besides poets? When I open the New Yorker to see who has been recently crowned with inclusion there I am often baffled by the inscrutable poetry captured in those pages. If I, as someone who has written and studied poetry since my early years, can’t understand what a poem is saying, why would anyone else attempt or be able to? Unfortunately, most folks were made to memorize some often curdled or sing-song poem in childhood and then the door to understanding or appreciating poetry swung closed never to be opened again.

But — hear ye, hear ye — poetry and writing is alive and well on the Peninsula.

James Tweedie

Though “Does poetry have a place in my life?” — is a question that probably doesn’t bother too many folks, Pastor James Tweedie has thought about it a lot. “I’ve written classical style poems and lyrics for years — but it’s not what is being written now.” Still James does not let that dent his confidence one iota. “I’ve written all sorts of poetry and different kinds of stories — from science fiction to fantasy to flash fiction, to detective and short stories — I’m just enjoying life and using some of the gifts and talents that God gave me. I think the things that I write and produce are marvelous, but there is just no real outlet for them. My type of poetry is spurned. Most poetry sites publish only free verse. Classic forms are not appreciated.” (James does mention several prizes he has won for his writing however: from the Edinburgh Festival of Flash Fiction; and the Society of Classical Poets.)

James bemoans the fact that “classical forms” like sonnets, villanelles, or rhymed verse is not what is being printed now. But this has not stopped him from producing his own work straight from his own self-publishing printing press, Dunecrest Press. “I wrote my first book, “Long Beach Short Stories,” and published it in 2016. I’ve sold over 1,000 copies over the last seven years. Soon after I started my private eye Mike Maurison detective stories, and now there are three in the series: ‘A Year in the Life of Mike Maurison’; ‘A Week in the Life of Mike Maurison’; and ‘A Day in the Life of Mike Maurison.’ Since then I’ve published 15 books, some of which are more personal, that I don’t necessarily sell publicly.”

“I also have two poetry books, ‘Mostly Sonnets, Formal Poetry for an Informal World’; and ‘Crucifix Askew, Poems of Resurrection & Reincarnation.’ I just enjoy writing and it’s not too difficult. I have a sci-fi western, about 250 pages set in the 1880s. And another book of short stories ready to go. I can’t even remember all the genres I’ve written in. I have a humorous book of poetry, a book of social political poems, books about God and life.”

James oozes with creativity. He has degrees in the humanities and theology as well as in music, and has written many symphonic pieces “of the sort Bach would write for the organ. I also record my singing. And I have a piece of music I wrote for string orchestra in eight sections, a portrait of the Peninsula that describes in music the history, the geography, the economy of the whole Long Beach Peninsula, including the early settlers, the Chinook, the Clamshell Railroad.” What can he not do?

David Campiche

As well, James, under the auspices of his Dunecrest Press, has designed and published the work of others, including our own David Campiche, scion of a long-standing and beloved Peninsula family. (Dr. John Campiche, David’s father, was a doctor to so many of us and was also an accomplished artist.)

David and James even collaborated on a book of poetry and photography called “Sidekicks: Visions of the Pacific Northwest.” As the introduction says, “This is a book about light and shadow, about the subtlety of nature; about a collaboration of two friends and a love affair with the Pacific Northwest.” They even have a partial answer to my question above, “Poetry is an abstraction that seeks inner messages, words and expressions that go beyond the day to day. Each photograph travels into new horizons. Both artists scratch at the surface of the road less traveled.”

Though David is better known for his distinctive and iconic pottery, he is also a dedicated writer. The day I stopped by the house to pick up a copy of his latest chapbook, “River Nocturne and True Love, Poems Written on the Coquille,” he was chopping wood for the Anagama pottery kiln now burning on a hillside in Astoria. But look up David Campiche on Amazon and you will find many books by and about him. This most recent poetry chapbook is like a quiet breeze over the tidelands, “A gentle wind/Saunters off the ocean/Miles away… Cut-throat trout/Slow dance/Shimmying/Into deep wonderous potholes.”

Another of David’s writerly achievements is his most recently published novel, “Black Wing.” (Both James’ and David’s books are available at Amazon.) As one writer puts it, “In gorgeous, sensory, lyrical prose, author David Campiche has filtered his meticulous research on First Nations history and traditions into a nail-biting thriller that pulses with grief and rage at all that’s been lost.”

“‘Black Wing’ is a banquet for the senses, a symphony for the emotions, an elegy for what’s gone, and a clarion call for what needs to be done. Set in winter in 1896 Dan Skinner and his younger brother, André, flee into the icy, windswept mountains of British Columbia, barely ahead of a contingent of Mounties and their Tsimshian tracker. As history painfully unwinds at a dire time for the Native Peoples, and environmental disaster follows the destruction of their way of life, ‘Black Wing’ introduces a cast of unforgettable characters: two friends torn apart by racial hatred, a Native shaman with formidable power, a wife determined to reunite with her lost husband, a band of Native people fighting to preserve their ways, and a descendant who takes on the quest for ecological balance.” (David’s note to me was typical of most writers I know, “‘Black Wing’ is now available through Amazon. Scary.”)

But no matter what, writers write — as both James and David perfectly illustrate. James decided to set up his own publishing house so that his writing would not be lost. Only time will tell. But he hopes his grandchildren or even his great grandchildren may still be able to enjoy his writing and the writing of many of his friends who’ve been enshrined in the pages of Dunecrest Press.