Poetry & Music Project Book 19/20

POETRY & MUSIC PROJECT

2019-2020

POETRY & MUSIC PROJECT

The Poetry & Music Project connects student poets and their words with composers who create original music, exploring the connections between poetry and music.

In Fall 2019, Opera Omaha and Nebraska Writers Collective invited students in grades K-12 from Nebraska and Iowa to submit works of poetry on themes of creativity, community, identity, and youth. Nebraska Writers Collective created prompts for inspiration and Opera Omaha and Nebraska Writers Collective facilitated writing workshops focused on writing for music. Opera Omaha received 29 poems submitted by 22 students! The poets are students in grades 4-12 from five Nebraska Counties: Cedar, Douglas, Gage, Lancaster, and Sarpy.

From the pool of poetry submissions, composers Frances Pollock and Matt Browne, alumni of the American Opera Project Composers & the Voice program, selected ten of these poems by nine poets to set to music based on what inspired them. In Spring 2020, the poets and composers came together in Omaha to collaborate on these original pieces in music workshops with Opera Omaha’s Holland Community Opera Fellows.

The concert originally scheduled for April 2020 has been postponed, but digital copies of the music are available on the Opera Omaha website.

The Poetry & Music Project is produced in partnership with Nebraska Writers Collective and The American Opera Project.

The Poetry & Music Project is funded in part by Humanities Nebraska

4 “Earth She Is” MaKayla Bemley, Logan Fontenelle Middle School

5 “Untitled: My Dad Was a Solider” Shaye-Maleah Howe, Beatrice High School

6 “A Broken Me” Blakely Kenzy, Elkhorn Middle School

7 “The Question” Nathaniel Kielian, Creighton Prep

9 “White Trash” Josiah Lindstrom, Beatrice High School

10

“Youth” Zachary Scott, Beatrice High School

11 “The Cedar County Fair” Breah Steffen, Holy Trinity Elementary

12 “Life in Nebraska” Ava Stewart, Holy Trinity Elementary Hartington

13 “Showing Cattle” Ava Stewart, Holy Trinity Elementary Hartington

14

“A Silent Land” Emmalee Undereiner, Beatrice High School

ALL SUBMISSIONS

15

16

“Mr. No Name” MaKayla Bemley, Logan Fontenelle Middle School

“Untitled” Timothy Boomgarden, Elkhorn Middle School

Earth She Is

MaKayla Bemley

If you go outside at night

You’ll find that the world is asleep

The Earth Cries out because of the hurt and secrets she keeps

The brisk winds play sacred tunes

As the Earth chokes on the words that no one is bold enough to say I’m dying!

She says I’m dying!

But no one listens as the world is asleep.

Untitled: My Dad Was a Solider

Shaye-Maleah Howe

My dad was a soldier, All his life he’d dreamt to be. His goal in life to save the world, He keep us safe, and free.

When I was born, he was away, At boot camp on that day.

He cried inside to hold me, That would happen months away.

When I was one he held me close And promised me the moon.

The love he had inside his heart, Reached further than that moon.

When I was two he had to go, To a country far away.

He hid his job with love and pride

God Bless the U.S.A.

He was gone away from all he loved, But he held his head up high. He was there to make others’ lives

As glorious as mine.

And then it came, that fateful day, when I was only three. He came into harm’s way.

Yet in his suffering moments, Came through his selfless ways.

He rescued then his brothers, His love for them shone through.

Just like the love he had for me

So dedicated and so true.

There’s not a day that goes by

That I’m wishing for you to be here, To help me with my troubles

But I always know you’re near.

A Broken Me

Blakely Kenzy

Happy

Am I happy

Truly happy

Do I feel okay

Or is it the mask I put on every day

Are you okay

They all say

I brush my hair but I don’t really care my image not worthy of the critique of others

My smile is broken

The frown bursting out at my darkest hour

I sit and think

Too afraid to say

What my heart truly feels

My brain exhausted

From the hurt

That comes from inside me

I will never be good enough

Never

Who even cares

I certainly don’t

If that means I can fit in

The Question

Nathaniel Kielian

I say “we”

“We” meaning everyone

“We” meaning no one

“We”, meaning me

And yet, “we” meaning you

“We”, referring to a nation

And that being an individual

This “we” I speak of...

it’s the suffering.

The lonely

The impoverished

The dying...

The dead

But further,

The loved

The lively

The young

And the rich

“We” is exclusive

And at the same time all-encompassing

By definition, communal

And intimate

But in the end, Always ambiguous

And so I am asked, “Who is we?”

Well, Who is we?

White Trash

Josiah Lindstrom

White trash, bad Kid, waste of Space tax dollars

Spent on my Mental health

Omni, boys

Town, jail Ceaders shelter, Mays, Omaha

Foster, care, 200mg

50mg

10mg

20mg

75mg

Suspension, in Trouble, Mad, Step, Dad

Problems. I used to

Stay up all night To Yelling and drama

White trash Hood Rat

Bad Kid Not Intelligence Boredom Or Trauma

They see What

They want But not What i am

Pills since I Was Six take

Ten daily meds

They make Me sick

Therapy since Five over 18 quit

Youth

Zachary Scott

Through the severed trees in a willowed oak Bears an ancient toad

Thinking of his lonesome

Cold and alone he stands

Holding the sorrowful emotions

Unable to reach his rainy past

The Cedar County Fair

Breah Steffen

Caramel apples, cotton candy, Here comes Charlotte, Jean, and Andy.

Grab a program, find a seat, The 4-Hers are ready to compete.

Round and round the ring they go, Who will earn the best of show?

Judge grabs the mic and shares some tips, 4-Hers shift and bite their lips?

Ivy the goat wins the class, She’s rewarded with green grass.

Everyone’s excited to celebrate, The Cedar County Fair is GREAT!

Life in Nebraska

Ava Stewart

As I step outside I hear corn rustle Across the road the combines bustle

The combine churns on, row by row, got to get it out before the snow

The scent of hay gently blows in the air A few bits flutter in my hair

A Charolais calf bawls in the distance Thanking God for its existence

Inside the house, mom’s homemade bread, Sweet and warm thoughts fill my head

Clean and cool, the gusts of wind sun starts to warm, I swear it grinned

Far away, a sunset gleams, The day is done now time for dreams

Oh Nebraska, what a sight, The place that’s home, it feels just right

Showing Cattle

Ava Stewart

Washing, brushing, combing, cleaning Dust so thick you’re barely seeing

Cramming in another show Wait which heifer’s gonna go? Time to get out! I hear the trailer rattle, Great, now it’s flies we’ve got to battle!

Clop, Clop go your heifer’s feet

As you gently stride down the street

Time to wash, head to the rack!

As you soak, you reach over her back

Okay guys, time to head back, Then we can go grab a snack!

Pine shavings fly everywhere In the stall and in my hair

A lot of work, here and there? Nope, it’s just another fair.

A Silent Land

Emmalee Undereiner

A creek untouched by human hand

A place where I can escape the world’s demand

Only here I find the solace nature can bring

For in the silence I am king

With gentle hand and heart I reign

As the wild flows through many a vein

Upon my head I wear a crown of rose

While to oak harbor my woes

They comfort me until I too feel a part of this earth

Many with to lower my worth

For I’m the child who runs rampant in the wild

Never shall another’s words make me feel defiled

Because I wear the badge of flower child

I live among flora and fauna

I sing among them as a prima donna

I sing the song of the wild

Mr. No Name

MaKayla Bemley

I’m a victim in my own game

Mr. No Name

Anger, Sadness

There are split roads, we go our separate ways

An ongoing of feeling numb and lonely

Break these chains!

My emotions fluctuate

Maybe this is my fate

But I’m so infatuated

Could I really be happy on my own?

Untitled

Timothy Boomgarden

Mamma always told me to fly

Dad always said never get too high

People looking at me, callin’ me a child

Held on a chain, I just wanna run wild

I get told I’m loved then I full on spiral

Wanna be happy, but I can’t even smile

Remember putting soap on the floor, sliding down the tile

If happy is a place, I haven’t been there in a while

Bothered with questions, always on trial

The worst time in my life, was probably last year

How is everything so messed up, it seems so clear

You’ll never realize, my biggest fear

Is when I walk upstairs, and look in the mirror

Reminded that I fail, but don’t shed a tear

My goodness big bro, I wish you were here

And I know, this probably really isn’t fair

That I dreamed in a world that everyone cared

I just feel like, feel like I can’t trust

That something will change when it feel like a bust

I feel so trapped, inside this cage

My only feelings, depression and rage

My amazing father, got divorced from my own mother

I’m so lost, 200 miles away from my own brother

I feel like a bullet, went straight through my heart

Exploding inside of me, tearing me apart

Never giving up, until all that’s left is shards

Like at a poker table, but everyone was dealt bad cards

It’s sad, I just wanted my parents to be proud

So silent, but I’ve never been so loud

Untitled

Trinity Eichenberger

The beauty of youth

How being young is fun

It’s typical

That life is simple

Not having bills to pay

Or worries that stay

Climbing trees

And enjoying the autumn breeze

Discovering who I am

Or if I like a boy named Sam

The misery of youth

What do I wear

What do I say

How do I act

Will they like me

Or will they not

Why don’t they like me

I am always stressed

Over a test

That I know wasn’t my best

I’m constantly placed underneath all of this pressure

Life is becoming a major depressor

The difference in today’s youth

Social interaction

Is a major distraction

To my brand new phone

I’m feeling very alone

Social media is supposed to allow us to connect

But is making me reflect

If I’m perfect

In schools there is so much violence

And they tell us to hold silence

Yet where there is defiance

Let’s give help to people with guns

That are harming our sons

Yellow

Lillie Henry

Creativity is

Colors of an extravagant sunset.

Red, orange, yellow, violet

Twisting and Swirling

Like a magnificent dance,

Spinning and turning each other in a waltz, Their feet quicken

With crescendos and decrescendos of vibrant color, Swaying and bending,

Illustrating whirls of beautiful movement

Leaving everyone tapping their feet,

Making their souls ache for more of the sunlight

As it fades away in the darkness

The light,

The joy,

The warmth of the yellow

Engulfs the souls like the song of the golden canary

The yellow graces us with happiness that we have never felt before.

Community is

A beehive.

With workers striving to their goal of sweet honey,

The bees help each other to raise the youth,

Protect the hive and the queen,

They rush to each flower

Determine to get nectar,

Powerfully Purring, Buzzing,

Happy to make a difference,

The bees go to yellow daffodils,

Optimistic with the hope of helping their community,

The freshness of the summer air is

A friendly reminder of life’s new beginnings,

The bright yellow sun with its rays coming down like a hug around the world

That we desperately need,

The yellow is there,

In the cheerful daffodils,

The friendly sun,

The optimistic bees,

And even in the fresh summer air,

The yellow flourishes our happiness into joy that will never leave.

Youth is

Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.

Exploring the mermaid lagoon,

Battling the codfish, Captain Hook,

Flying with unceasing happy thoughts,

Telling their adventures to everyone they meet,

They stay in Neverland,

Eating yellow bananas with gleeful faces,

As Tinkerbell showers them with golden pixie dust,

The yellow is here too,

The yellow keeps them young

Even though their bodies will wrinkle like wet newspaper,

Yellow is youth

The yellow flys the heart, to the second star to the right

And straight on to morning to Neverland,

Where we will never grow up.

My Identity is

Like the universe is to humankind

Graceful light that does pirouettes across my eyes,

Just out of reach.

It leaves me lost in breathless wonder and awe...

The stars leap across my face,

Stars die, creating beautiful displays of glimmering beacons and brilliant vitalities

Stars are born, casting fluorescent glows and luminosities,

A thinker...

A writer...

My identity is like my creativity, A vast galaxy full of nebulas and cosmos,

Dazzling and Baffling,

And will leave everyone wanting more of my bright self, Of the yellow joy, that’s embedded into my heart

Like a lighthouse,

To the ones surrounded by the dark, lonely gloom,

The yellow shines with unceasing happiness and hope for all to witness.

Community

Creativity, Identity, And Youth,

Is what pulls us together,

The yellow is just glue that holds us,

Like sunshine that brightens darkness

It is the hope in a hopeless world

The color, feeling, smell, scent, taste of yellow

Is the North Star that shines through the black sky, Yellow is key to a better, happier world,

We are the lock,

We must decide to either let the yellow in… Or be consumed by the blackness.

Disappointment

Jules Joens

Cold raindrops fall down on my cheeks

But is it rain?

Or is it my salty tears?

Arms numb, heart racing

Twisted thoughts run through my mind

But should I act on them?

Fingers find my hair

Digging into my skull

Pressure builds up inside of me

And I threaten to break

Like a delicate porcelain doll.

Hateful words flash across my cracked phone screen

Cold fingers hold it close

But I am not here to read them

Not mentally, at least.

Limbs shut down

Mind shatters,

And just like that, I am no longer with you.

You pretend to love me

To be fascinated by my accomplishments

But you lie

To yourself

And to me.

After I am gone

You continue to use me

For your own personal gain,

Twisting my words

And your own.

As crimson blood pours out of me, Yours continues to pump, fresh and new But should it be this way?

Should I really be the one gone?

Do you look in the mirror?

Do you think about me?

Of course you don’t

Your goal was to remove me

Remove me from this twisted world

I’m sorry

I can never forgive myself

I put myself in the limelight

Tore myself away from family, Friends.

But did I gain anything?

I gained nothing but pain Sadness, Guilt, Disappointment.

Untitled Sierra Jordan

The smells of chipped paint and fresh canvases

Coating my inner mind can never put me in a bind

Like painting a field of wildflowers in northern Kansas

Stiff paint brushes coating a canvas with open possibilities in my mind

Pencil dust creating pictures that misunderstood us

Dusty floors and dirty tables make me blind to the eye

Paintings put together creating a scenery and be greater than us

Secret spots to sit and paint that I can only find

I’m going to forget what it’s like to sit and relax with the sounds of music that have us

I shall sit here and feel the dry paint under my nails and smell the fresh air that has always been kind.

Triage

Nathaniel Kielian

Drowning

The sensation

It sneaks up on you

Until suddenly you’re filled with that panic

That terror

The sickening idea that you aren’t going to make it

That you can’t handle any more

Just one push and you’ll break

Love has its balance

And now I’ve overdrawn

Get a notice in the mail

Cancelling passion

And suspending devotion

Resources limited

Assets spread thin

A scalpel to my heart

Let the triage begin

A sacrifice at the altar of our tears

Life

Kyson Lammers

Wailing babies as I walk by.

Listening to their very first cry.

Toddlers whining calling me.

Soon they come with a scraped knee.

Whining because they lost by 2.

Telling them it only counts if you had fun, too.

Doing sports in the summer.

Vacation was a bit bad.

Buying candy becoming more lonesome.

Start of school.

But acting like it’s cool.

Got bad grades.

Another year.

Going to more parties each month.

Halloween comes.

No more candy overloads.

Graduating high school.

Off to college.

Finishing final exam.

Coming home because there’s nowhere to go.

Got a job off to move.

No more love.

The Youth

Isabelle Lewis

We are the future, we are the youth

We beg you to help

To give us a hand

But do you really know the truth?

No one ever gives us the time of day

You say we are too young or too dumb

It’s like you’ve trapped us in our own prisons

Boxes and bars that you’ve built for us

How dare we think outside these walls

How dare we spread these lies

How dare we justify our actions

And call out yours

A girl, a Muslim, a this, a that

But of course we tell you, “these are no acts”

But you only ever smile and tip us your hat

Never comprehending our brutal facts

The fact is:

We are smart, we are brave, and we are undeniably loud

But it’s ok, take your time

We’ve already waited for our voices to be found

So, what’s a while longer?

We have patience, but if we wait

Not even the warmonger

Will be able to tell us our fate

So take a seat

Get some pen and ink

Listen closely, as I won’t repeat

I’m taking a stand, breaking these walls

I won’t be confined

By your rules and laws

I speak for those of us who can’t or won’t

I speak for us:

The youth

When the Sky Found the Earth

Sophia Mason

I remember the moonlight reigning over the waves crashing against the shore, the melodic tides lulling me to sleep I remember feeling the cold-water rush over me then slowly start to become familiar

I remember the taste of blue moon ice-cream

How it touched my tongue as if it was made from dreams

I remember being shrouded under covers, after hours of swimming, the late afternoon sun streaming through the window, the grownups chatting downstairs, their voices growing fainter…fainter

I remember thinking how secluded we were from the rest of the world

It was like our own planet we were lucky enough to inhabit for just a few days

My cousin and I would call it “rich people land”

I remember how excited I was when a girl asked if I wanted to go frog hunting at the creek as the sky was beginning to turn orange and melt into the lake

I remember the scent of fresh clouds being the only fragrance in the air

I remember my cousin and I diving into the black raspberry bushes that surrounded the house

Our legs, arms and feet bare and vulnerable to the thorns

I remember my feet gliding over the cool grass, the breeze whispering on my face, I was so light, there was no burden outside and for the first time in a while I believed I could fly

I remember laying in the innertube, the sky reflected the depths of the lake and the lake reflected the sudden bursts of sparkling colors in the sky

I would stare as the world and sky began to merge and become one and I would drift away and almost fall into space

In those days I didn’t think about anything that existed outside of what was placed before my eyes

Every moment I felt, I knew what I felt and everything was sunshine and swimming with clean grass and still skies

I realize how many years now separate the memories, how it feels like a dream but still so clear

How the sky found the Earth

And when the sky finds the Earth

There’s no need to fly

Clouds are Formed in Dreams

Sophia Mason

Sometimes I can’t tell if the clouds are yellow or pink

But I don’t care to figure it out

My eyes are reflected in a sense of mystery

Reminding me of when I was small and coated in dreams

With mulberry stains dripping down my chin

Spitting out cherry seeds on carefree evenings

My mind only touched like sunshine on clouds

Not others lives fogging it out

Sunshine doesn’t sink into me just right anymore

I don’t want the gold light streaming down my face turn into bright blue light plastered it on like a mask

Give me sparkling squinted eyes in shades of orange

Let me feel the world breathe and blow me away

Let me see stars

So I can make pretty pictures

And write with flowers and thorns

Let me just not care again

I want to live without the chain I wound around my head

Like the umbilical cord grounded me to life

This chain grounds me in my thoughts instead

I feel chained down yet I still feel myself floating away

Live without moments slipping out from my thoughts and through my hands like sand to lie buried, forgotten and gray under the floorboards below

Live without constantly scrambling around for a map I’ll never find

I’ve never been good with directions anyways

Live without the clock constantly running in the back of my head

I can’t trust it anymore

Because it’s changed from an hour to sixty minutes

And it’s changed from a minute to sixty seconds

It’s all changing too fast

While I’m changing too slow

I’m afraid I will be left in the dust of the world

Feeling the dissatisfaction settle on my eyes

And cloud in the back of my throat

So I’ll eventually choke from still hands and frozen tongues

Because sometimes it’s not the action that ruins a person

But a lack of action that will

But I’m young right?

I have time right?

This is normal right?

Am I… right?

Will I ever feel right?

There was once a day in people’s lives where the governor of their existence didn’t exist behind a glass case, speaking in ticks with metal numbers and claws

Or at least they didn’t realize

And long days in the sun became short days frantically obsessing over everything not done

But I want to break out of my case, tune the ticks out of my head

Listen to the wind instead

Dream of what’s possible again

Not think so much about how I’ll do it or where I’ll head

So call me scared

But call me hope-full

Call me an explorer of stars and cloud

Yeah, call me fearful

Because even though stars are full of burning gases stars are formed from wonder

And clouds are made of water but clouds are formed with dreams

See up in space there’s no need for time

I’ll stay on Earth

But let me visit the sky once in awhile

Identity

Luke Netherton

The Hideout is a hidden spot alongside the river only a few select people know.

But it is more than just a hidden place where I go

It’s a place of comfort and safety

Alongside unforetold adventures

At The Hideout, you might hear the calming noise of water waving down the stream

Or the birds singing a magnificent song

While the tree leaves whistle

And the wind howls

I slid my hand against the rough cement

That was there from an old dam run down

I skip across the perfectly placed rocks laid throughout the river soaring through the clean but musky air

I climb up on their side of the dam with a plan, I spot the perfect oak built for me to climb

Running towards the tree I bounce off the side and stretch

Reaching for the branch

I grabbed the branch pulling myself up using every muscle in my flesh, Branch after branch I swing up, while the leaf tickles me until I reach the top I can see everything, it’s absolute beauty.

The view is surreal

Up above I can capture everything all the beauty

So extraordinary, and the pain and suffering leaves my body

This is more than a safe place

It’s a place of peace

Art

Madison Oestreich

A blank canvas sits Supplies are all set to go It’s time to create.

Have You Forgotten?

Cadence Smith

Have you forgotten how the world use to be?

Have you forgotten love, friendship, passion?

How the world was whole, complete, special.

Now just a pile of rubble, we and other have destroyed it.

Destroyed ourselves, in a way where we hurt other without knowing, we damage ourselves without knowing.

Have you forgotten abut the mistakes we’ve made?

Have you forgotten about the deaths we’ve caused?

Have you forgotten about global warming?

Of course you have, it’s normal human instinct to forget.

But is it fully normal to forget something that’s right in front of your face?

Some so true and clear, that rather than forgetting you’re running?

Running from your true fears, from death, from the world, from yourself.

Running from anything that has nothing and everything to do with you.

Running from the heartbroken dreams you called a perfect world.

We are everything short from perfect.

Distracted by new species and discoveries, putting our hands on anything that’s alive, anything we can try to destroy or use for our own.

Gasses sent to the air, we suffocate ourselves and we count it as an accomplishment.

We suffocate ourselves with our greed.

We suffocate ourselves with our guilt.

We suffocate ourselves with our pride.

We are killing the one friend that never left, killing our world as if we don’t need every single aspect of it to survive.

We don’t do anything.

Have we forgotten our morals?

Have we forgotten our humanity?

Have we forgotten the world?

It seems we have, as Earth is crumbling below our feet, and it seems the world has forgotten the love we used to give it.

Orbits Filled with Tears

Cadence Smith

Teardrops sparkle under the moonlight.

Grasped hands filled with sparks.

Like a million fireflies soaring towards the galaxy.

Hidden scars under blanketed cloth.

Trembling yet forever filled.

The sun rises, I am forgotten.

As the stars disappear from view.

I am the burning fire, glimmering like the others around me.

You may see me but not hear me.

Bulletproofed but silent, free but hands tied.

I was the beginning, you were the end.

The comet blazing through the sky,

Burning out before reaching our orbit.

The orbit that we face, that we are forced to face.

It’s like a vicious cycle, a burning ember waiting for our guard to go down.

For our shield to lower so it can burst us into flames.

And just like everyday, the orbit continues.

The sun goes down and the moon returns.

Teardrops sparkle under the moonlight.

The Goat

Breah Steffen

Running through the thickest grass, Falling jumping day won’t last.

Up upon the solid ground, The hooves my feet make a really loud sound.

Up the hill down the slope, Why would there be a reason to mope?

Farmer comes no need to weep, Everyone just go to sleep.

The next morning brings lots of snow, I don’t know where to go!

Chilly wind make me shiver, I don’t want my ears to wither.

Where’s my mother, I want to weep,. But my confidence I keep.

Up upon the last snow mound, My hooves don’t event make a sound.

One the last hill I climb to see, My herd is coming finally.

I snuggle my mother close and tight, Now I’ll sleep snug tonight.

The Eyes of a Child

Emmalee Undereiner

Look upon the eyes of a child

See the world through their eyes

They view the world as a place to explore and be themselves

Look at their imagination and see their perspective of our world

The imagination hasn’t been tainted by realism

The realism is instilled by the elders we revere

But their ideas are dated and don’t fit today’s standards

We inject the rules of old men into our creative children

Their creativity is removed and replaced with drab thoughts of life

Yet we want them to progress and use their imagination to pave their way

Are we confusing youth of what we want of them

Is failure their only option

We must become more adept at understanding our children’s frustrations and ideas

Allow them a chance to be young

Untitled Kate Wegner

Creativity is a hummingbird buzzing around your head like a bright jewel.

It is the stars on a moonless night so many that you cannot count them all.

Creativity is the clouds all dancers on the breeze blocking the sun and bringing the sky to life.

It is the entire ocean endless and seeming still until you look closer.

Creativity is in the forest sounds the city lights the flower’s bloom the rural hills.

Creativity is in the poet’s rhythm the writer’s words the artist’s colors the singer’s tune.

It is the heartbeat in our chest the song in our souls.

Creativity rests in the bones of all should they take the time to see.

Founded in 2008, the Nebraska Writers Collective (NWC), an Omaha-based 501(c)3 nonprofit, unleashes the power of writing at schools, corrections facilities, businesses, and other organizations throughout the Midwest by supporting writers at all stages of their journey. The NWC fosters self-empowerment and community building through creative writing, performance poetry, and interactive workshop-based programming. Additionally, the NWC employs more than 50 local writers and poets each year, helping to sustain and retain their talents right here in Nebraska.

For this project, the Nebraska Writers Collective helped identify themes, created writing prompts, and participated in music workshops. NWC teaching artists designed and co-led poetry workshops with Holland Community Opera Fellows for over one hundred middle and high school students.

Visit newriters.org for more information.

Founded in 1988, The American Opera Project (AOP) has been at the forefront of contemporary opera for over 30 years. The Brooklyn-based producing organization commissions, develops and produces music-theatre projects, trains emerging composers and librettists, and creates personal connections within its community. Its works have received critical acclaim at opera companies and venues around the world, establishing a new musical canon that recognizes the operatic story in every life.

Poetry & Music Project composers Frances Pollock and Matt Browne are alumni of AOP’s Composers & the Voice program.

Visit aopopera.org for more information.

Opera Omaha, the only professional opera company in Nebraska, began in 1958 as the Omaha Civic Opera Society, a volunteer association, and with tremendous community support became fully professional by 1970. Opera Omaha produces a season of original mainstage productions, presented at the historic Orpheum Theater, and smaller productions and musical events throughout the community. Opera Omaha is internationally known for its productions of eight world premieres and four American premieres of classical masterpieces and is highly regarded regionally for extensive community engagement and education programs. Opera Omaha also produces ONE Festival, an innovative spring festival, and facilitates a groundbreaking civic practice initiative, the Holland Community Opera Fellowship — work that is key to Opera Omaha’s ongoing transformation from a performing arts organization to a cultural resource for the community.

Visit operaomaha.org for more information.

Opera Omaha’s Poetry & Music Project is produced in partnership with

Supported in part by