Poems and short stories updated often. Visit us again soon!

1st Annual Chula Vista Arts Festival Sept. 2023

Click above top right to view the photo/poem tributes to my father or scroll down to read a sample of my poems.

1st place. 2023 Surfing Madonna Poetry Contest. Jeff & John Henry Bettger

Click above top right to view the photo/poem tributes to my father or scroll down to read a sample of my poems.

Reading my tribute to American Sign Language poetry.

Click above top right to view the photo/poem tributes to my father or scroll down to read a sample of my poems.

Invited poetry reading at the Front Porch Art Gallery in Carlsbad, CA

Click above top right to view the photo/poem tributes to my father or scroll down to read a sample of my poems.

Awards, Publications, and Activities

***Two New Collections!***

My newest collections of poems are here--"More than a Game" and

"Fun With Poetic Forms"--just click SPORTS POEMS or POETIC FORMS.

BREAKING NEWS! Over 6,000 reads of my poems on the

www.Booksie.com website! Above awards

and publications, my happiness is knowing

people are reading and enjoying my work!

Goals

To inspire people, especially teens and seniors, to find the joy and

healing power of writing poetry. To inspire greater literacy activity

and achievement in elementary school children.

Awards

1st Place, Surfing Madonna Poetry Contest, 2023

"Just For Him"

2 Honorable Mentions, PHES Gallery Ekphrastic Poetry Contest, 2023

"What Remains Under the Layers"

"Three Empty Vessels"

International Marketing campaign, Bridport Prize Competition, 2023

"My Writing Space"

Publications

2 poems -- Summation Anthology 2022

"The Good Son"

"Perfect Moments"

San Diego Poetry Annual 2023

"The Dancer"

4 poems -- Summation Anthology 2023

"Trapped"

"It Begins"

"In the Eye of the Beholder"

"Light All Around"

Write Heart Publishing. Nationwide competition

2023 Poetry Anthology-- Things I Know Now

"The Lake"

3 poems--Impressionography--"Unseen Iceland:

"Walking Up Stream"

"Reflections of Midnight Sun"

"Ebb and Flow"

Harmonic Verse Anthology 2023

"Worse Job Ever"

Surfing Madonna Oceans Project, "Save The Ocean 4"

"Instinct"

Unveiling Creativity: The Art of Conversation

"I Collect Paintings"

"In Praise of Painters"

"Truly Knowing an Art Form"

"Something Great"

San Diego Poetry Annual 2024

"Eureka!"

Chapbooks

Local Gems Press, 2024, Chapbook of poetry.

"Fun With Poetic Forms"

Local Gems Press, 2024, Chapbook of poetry.

"More Than a Game"

Local Gems Press, 2023, Chapbook of poetry.

"Musings About Reality"

"Snapshots of My Father's Life"

Presentations

Escondido, CA, North County Poets Inc

La Jolla, CA, San Diego Poetry Annual presentation

Carlsbad, CA, PHES Art Gallery, Poetry Awards Reception

Los Angeles, CA, Cobalt Poets International Zoom presentation

Carlsbad, CA, Front Porch Gallery, "Save the Ocean"

Carlsbad, CA, Front Porch Gallery, "The Art of Conversation"

***Featured Presentation, Oct. 3, 2023 Cobalt Poets

International Zoom meeting from Los Angeles.

World premier of "Poems and Paintings"

***First Annual Chula Vista Arts Festival

Art Exhibits

Many of my poems are inspired by paintings (Ekphrastic poems).

I have hosted several neighborhood art exhibits for local painters.

Collaborations

Rosario Glezmir--Wrote a series of ekphrastic poems

for her series of "Santa Fe" paintings and prints.

Board of Directors

Escondido Arts Partnership and Community Gallery

1st Judge

The Rick Hoffer Book Prize, 2024. Business Book category.

My new book published by Local Gems Press

Front cover art by Rosario Glezmir

book of poetry and paintings at www.surfingmadonna.com

Just For Him

by Jeff Bettger and John Henry Bettger

The sky could be less blue,

the waves less powerful,

the land less majestic, but

their splendor exists just for him.

The marine world, surrounded by beaches,

unlike the worlds he already knows,

his sky--its wind, clouds, and rainbows,

his land--its rocks, trees, and animals.

An excited, but scared, 3-year-old boy,

his initial voyage on the deep water.

First mate on his brother’s surfboard,

salty mist in his eyes, the shore so far away.

Bobbing up and down like a bathtub toy,

waiting for just the right wave…this one!

Kneeling in front, brother’s hands on his waist.

Ready, Set, Pop!--up he bravely stands.

Exhilaration like he has never known,

a small wave, but to him, a 10-foot swell,

supreme joy on his suntanned face,

“hang loose” displayed on his small hands.

Today ‘s introduction to the Hawaiian waters,

a mere glimpse of its vastness and spirit.

Many magical creatures yet to meet--

sea turtles, dolphins, and manta rays.

Soon, elders will teach him about the sea,

and its delicate balance of life.

But for today, in this young boy’s mind,

nature’s living playground exists just for him.

Advertisement: Jeff's new video podcast

Nine episodes now online!

Hot News: Episode #4 with Chula VIsta Mayor John McCann and Myssie McCann is now online!

Mike Dullea and I co-host a new video podcast called South Bay FM. In each episode, we interview a guest who makes the communities of Chula Vista, Bonita, Imperial Beach, National City, San Ysidro, Paradise Hills, etc., a great place to live. From educators to business leaders, to elected officials to volunteers. In Episode #1, we discuss how we each entered the real estate business. Then we review the history of interest rates, home prices, and technology related to real estate. www.SouthBayFM.com Check it out! Not poetry, but lots of great information! :-)

PHES Art Gallery, Poetry Awards Reception, Carlsbad, Ca.

What Remains Under the Layers

by Jeff Bettger

A translucent tide pool. A shiny object reflects.

I disturb the peaceful rest of this stone, or shell or

perhaps the bone of a long extinct creature.

The years have worn it smooth, yet it remains.

And what is found below this ever-changing surface?

Earth’s history covered in sediment, portions

revealed by the powerful tides of violent storms.

What lived in this spot 1,000 or 10,000 years ago?

Perhaps great herds grazing on a vast savannah

or succulent plants surviving on a wind-blown desert?

I fantasize burrowing deep, seeing each layer unique,

the epochs of history marking their existence.

I imagine my memories as having similar layers.

Recent memories remain vivid and clear. Past

memories slowly fade into opaque shadows. The

realization that each memory, important or trivial,

is of consequence, having influenced all that I am.

Remove one layer and perhaps a drastically

different me--different opinions, a different life.

I search deeper, below my earliest memories,

until I reach my very soul. The genetic framework

upon which all knowledge gathers. Predispositions

refined from the accumulation of ancestral experiences.

Deeper yet, cellular influences from all past humanity.

To this pool of evolution, my life now contributes.

Published in the 2022-2023 San Diego Poetry Annual

The Dancer

by Jeff Bettger

Starting young, she prepared her body

for the long, difficult journey.

Ligaments are stretched

muscles are strengthened

jumping and kicking, spinning and pointing.

Gradually she was taught to be a dancer

each new technique increasingly harder.

Perfect posture, timing, and position

all performed with a graceful motion

Arabesque and Chasse, Passé and Plié.

Let us speak of perseverance and dedication

the kind beyond most imagination.

Only the dream of creating glorious beauty

pushes her through pain and injury

toes and ankles, flesh and bone.

In return, her movements gain meaning

her body, mind, and soul collectively working

to convey the deepest emotions, from joy to strife.

All the classic roles, she brings to life

Giselle and Clara, Odette and Juliet.

Effortless jumps and endless spins, central to her art

she performs while capturing the audiences’ hearts.

As a final proclamation, amidst the waves of applause,

with an elegant extension of her arm, she proudly declares

Here I am, all of me — Prima Ballerina!

--paintings by Monserrat Montes Esquivel

IG @momo_estudio

Inspired by True Events

Vietnam: They WIll Never Know

by Jeff Bettger

Las Vegas would give me only a 1 in 10,000 chance of surviving.

I have nothing to lose, so I fight. I fight as long and as hard as I can.

An exposed hilltop in Vietnam. Only ditches and sandbags for cover.

No sleep. No food. No replacements arriving. Make that 1 in 100,000.

Kate is a name for a good woman, a decent woman, a caring woman.

Firebase Kate is the name of this deathly dungeon in hell.

In-coming from above and below. The devil is laughing at us now.

The enemy does not care about the rules of engagement.

How do you prepare a 20 -year-old for such chaos? Training manuals

never explain how to operate a damaged gun in a shit storm.

We can smell the enemy approaching. Only one option remains.

In the darkness of the jungle night, we descend from Firebase Kate.

I was pushed over the line, into the void, yet returned mostly intact.

Did anyone make that $100 bet? The physical pain heals over time,

but the cold reception from our fellow Americans still bleeds.

Only me and the boys know what we left behind on Firebase Kate.

--Dedicated to Kenn Hopkins and to all who fought

FEATURED READER AT THE INTERNATIONAL cOBALTS POETS MEETING

Dear Janet

by Jeff Bettger

Is it possible to write a perfect poem?

Most would say it is not

until they read one that hits like

an earthquake that strikes from deep below,

a Heavenly bolt of lightning

to the mind and soul.

Not just one memorable phrase,

but one after another, like a waterfall.

No extra words diluting the 100 proof

glass of your earned joyful experience.

You are here to metaphorically describe

the true nature of life to us mere humans.

Continue strolling on the seashore,

looking into the Mystic, sharing what you see.

The beauty of your poems shadowed

only by the radiance of your smile!

.

Selected for marketing by international Bridport PriZe!

My Writing Space

by Jeff Bettger

Quiet and calm is my writing space.

The computer sits on a desk,

in the corner of a room,

facing the tree-lined backyard.

The large windows provide

glorious light and a fresh breeze.

My favorite paintings and photos

hanging on the walls around me.

But these are not the reasons

why I choose to write here.

For nine months of the year,

my writing has an audience here.

Beautiful Yellow Orioles greet me

each day from atop large palm trees.

Freshly returned from their winter

vacation in Mexico, they appear

without fail when I need them most.

I hear their unique sound, not a song,

more like the fast chatter of friends,

anxious to tell their exciting story.

Here I feel at peace. Here I can create.

Never alone, my little fans with me here.

An interpreted poem presented at the Front Porch Gallery

A Visual Language

by Jeff Bettger

A lucky, chance meeting.

A Deaf man, famous in the

Deaf community for his

storytelling abilities using

a manual-visual language,

American Sign Language.

Not the same as English.

ASL’s own syntax and semantics.

What a beautiful language!

Two manual articulators

rather than one oral articulator.

The ability to communicate from a distance.

The ability to “zoom in” or “zoom out”

when describing an action. Temporal

descriptions more precise than English.

The importance of specific facial expressions

and eye gaze as linguistic markers.

I was lucky to learn ASL and Deaf culture.

Poetry is confined by its presenting language.

This poem, so much richer when presented in ASL.

Published in Summation Anthology 2021-2022

The Good Son

by Jeff Bettger

I am awake.

Should I say it’s very early or late?

For sure an hour I’ve learned to hate.

Awake because a great idea grows?

Awake reflecting on the day’s woes?

No, because my father is awake,

and by himself he cannot be awake.

I am now very awake.

With this empty time, let me see,

a great son I have always tried to be.

Didn’t complain and did my chore,

always a great son to my core.

Time increased the debt, stay awake,

because his aged body remains awake.

I am still awake,

because I heard his call

and cannot let him fall.

This debt with increasing effort I pay,

and so here my body I lay.

Tired and drowsy yes, but clearly awake,

as long as he needs me, I will be awake.

--dedicated to Gil Bettger

Ars Poetica

The Magic of Poetry

by Jeff Bettger

Upon reflection, have no doubt,

writing great poetry is a gift.

Something not attempted by most,

never easy for even the best.

Picking just the right words and meanings,

creating new and fresh, past work not rehashing.

To write and then rewrite. Knowing when to stop,

for a perfectionist is the hardest part.

Great poetry is written

from the heart with good intent.

Advances in AI, you can forget.

Words without soul do not fit.

You can entertain or

complain what you disdain.

You can make a child giggle

or make a stoic friend cry.

You can tell a story or impart a lesson,

or even share some useful wisdom.

You can manipulate sounds and words,

a verbal symphony never before heard.

So many options of forms to choose,

long or short, or matching syllables few.

Describing events worth remembering

for readers today and the future convey.

Write what is unique about you,

or describe a universal truth.

Whether painful or joyful,

a thankful reader will relate.

Whether your poem finds a home

in a prestigious journal or review,

or on a website or a blog, remember this,

the writing of poetry most benefits you.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Romance

by Jeff Bettger

I am a poet.

Tell me what you know about romance.

Not just the crashing of two bodies.

Tell me about passion and tenderness.

The connection of mind, body and soul.

The atomic explosion caused by

the caress of a hand against a face.

A hungry kiss desperate to share the same air,

like a flame fighting for oxygen.

A romantic dance of spins and turns and dips.

Tell me what you know about romance.

The desire of two to merge into one.

Tell me of the pain of a forced parting.

Tell me of a love that cannot be.

Romeo and Juliet, what became of thee?

Tell me of flowers and sweet perfumed notes.

A calm lake, two swans swimming side-by-side.

Romance, romanticism, the New Romantics.

If romance is so magical, why is it fleeting?

Despite best attempts, romance often fades.

A cold lonely world becoming ever colder.

Yet each new romance we must begin

with the supreme hope of everlasting love.

Tell me of the romance you cannot forget.

Tell me of the romance kept close to your heart.

Teach me all you have learned about romance.

I am a poet. My poems keep romance alive.

Happy Father's Day!

The Rewards for Being a Father

by Jeff Bettger

Only with time can we look back,
each journey’s step thus we track.
What rewards when all is said and done
for being a father to my son?

Precious moments in my memory stay,
graduations, hugs, and each birthday.
Memories of Little League baseball,
so many wonderful scenes I recall.

My little man in uniform dressed,
so mature and handsome impressed.
Looking as if he were from an era past,
confident and poised pitched the ball fast.

Memories of his catches diving,
and a home run game-winning.
But the reward that means the most,
young players now call him Coach!

Poems for Teachers

My Mentors

by Jeff Bettger

Many mentors, teachers and coaches

have appeared throughout my life.

Each imparting their knowledge

and experience in their individual way.

Some with kindness and patience,

others with a sharp tongue and discipline.

While often disappointed with my progress

their appreciation of my effort apparent.

I watched carefully their pedagogy,

preparing for the pending day I would teach.

Upon graduation, I felt ready

to start a new branch of the tree.

When I asked, “What can I give you in return?”

my mentor smiled and simply said,

“Take what I have taught you and

go beyond what I have done.”

I realized that knowledge and skills

remain alive, to be developed and refined.

Thank you mentors, teachers and coaches,

it was my privilege to be your student.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Special Teachers for Special Teachers

by Jeff Bettger

My student did not spell "extravagant" today.

My student did not complete his math tables.

My student did not get an A on a test.

My student did not recite the Pledge.

But today was a day to remember because

my student looked me straight in the eye and

carefully touched my face for the first time.

Then my student returned to sorting his crayons

and stickers for the rest of the class, alone.

But I saw a little smile. It was a great day!

--dedicated to a new Special Ed

teacher, my son, John Henry :-)

My First Real Estate Marketing

My Name Badge

by Jeff Bettger

When I started my sales career,

no budget for advertisement had I.

Only business cards with my photo

and a name badge for display.

Add a black pen and an address book,

“That’s your uniform” declared my son.

I proudly wore my silver name badge,

held by a magnet, on my left pocket.

As time rolled by, several consistent properties

I noticed were created by my name badge.

First, when introducing myself, the visual

prompt helped people remember my name.

Second, standing in a grocery line, people felt

more comfortable striking up a conversation.

“Hey, how is the housing market these days?”

replaced conversations otherwise about the weather.

However, there was a funny event, not expected,

during a visit to the local office supply store.

A fellow shopper, much older than I, tapped my arm

and asked, “Where can I find the envelopes?”

Showing my badge, I explained I was not an employee,

but by the way, I think the envelopes are on isle 10. 😊

Finally, most importantly, on days I felt discouraged, my

name badge reminded me who I was—Jeff Bettger, Realtor.

Ekphrastic Poems Inspired by Paintings

I Collect Paintings

By Jeff Bettger

I collect paintings,

painted by my painter friends.

My home is their museum,

each piece perfectly framed and hung

.

Mostly impressionism and realism,

mostly colorful and beautiful.

No alarming political statements,

nor shocking displays of horror.

After all, it is my collection,

I have picked what I need to see.

My collection continues to grow,

as my painter friends and I grow.

With my collection, I am never alone,

my painter friends always in my home.

--painting by Elena Erreguerena

IG @eleerreguerena

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In a Pink Vochito

by Jeff Bettger

I feel like a caged bird,

who is forgetting how to fly.

Endless stress and worry,

my spirit starting to die.

Come away with me.

before it’s too late.

In the Beatles’ yellow submarine

or a pink Vochito I dream.

I need to feel free again,

East, West, North or South.

Any direction will do,

as long as I’m going with you.

To feel the strong winds blowing

across the endless plains.

To hear the massive waves,

crashing against the shores.

To see a mountain range,

whose peaks are capped with snow.

In our minds, we can go,

in a pink Vochito, me and you.

--painting by Eugenia Ferreiro

IG @eugeniaferreiro_arte

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

San Miguel de Allende

by Jeff Bettger

(Acrostic poem)

So familiar, but not yet been

A colonial town so far away

Now beckons me from within

My heart anxious to go some day

I dream the church and cobble streets

Galleries of wonderful art galore

Unique courtyards and places to eat

Exciting my desire even more

Last, an invitation I hear... ¡Visítame!

-- painting by Alejandro Palomares

IG @alexpal_art

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Worst Job Ever

by Jeff Bettger

Worst job ever!

Colorado’s extreme cold and snow,

the holiday rush underway.

Delivering packages of every size and shape,

a monstrous brown truck for a sleigh.

A full load is today’s obligation,

no time to rest until completion.

The sun sets early this time of year.

The darkness increasing the risk,

icy sidewalks and treacherous stairs.

Tired legs and chapped fingers,

sweating inside, frozen outside.

So many packages await my attention,

another day of overtime hours for certain.

Envious, I see happy families

through frosted bay windows.

A knock on their door,

the sound of running feet,

joyous holiday greetings,

as I bring gifts sent from afar.

Call me Santa Claus!

The comforting smell of fireplaces,

a peaceful silence all around.

Sparkling lights adorn thankful trees,

festive displays awaken dreary yards.

My little town, so beautiful tonight,

I pause as Christmas spirit fills my heart.

Best job ever!

-- painting by Gail Eason

IG @gaileason0629

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

REVIEWS

--Your poem did indeed deserve first prize. I enjoyed both the figurative language and the concrete images. It vididly told the story of the young boy.

-- Yes I can absolutely see how this would have enchanted the judge, as it will anyone who hears or reads it

--Powerful and poignant. Losing one's parents is one of the hardest things we can go through in life. Your poem handles it well. It's touching and tender and powerful. Great job.

--Superb. This is a powerful and moving tribute to the Vietnam vets. Fantastic job and well written.

--Brings tears to my eyes as I feel I am right there with that young man. Thank you for this heart touching masterpiece.

--a vulnerable and awesome piece of work.

--I adored Desert Dreams. Soul baring and soul drenched. This one must have risen up from your soul to your heart to your head, to your pen in writing it. Another story you painted on your poetic canvas. Wow.

--I enjoyed reading this, thanks for sharing.

--The pain is palpable. You wrote a poerful and poignant poem.

--If I could sum your poetry up in one word though, I would say, "universal." They reach everyone.

-- When reading your poem, it was like we could imagine a video that shows the importance of stopping to enjoy life...to just enjoy the moment and what is happening right in front of us.

--We NEED to hear your work Jeff. Very earthy and very heartfelt.

--Beautiful poignant poems Jeff. Thank you for sharing your heart with us.

Reading a poem at the monthly meeting and open mic of POETS INC in Escondidio, CA.