Poet in Residence
The Bellefonte Art Museum proudly welcomes our Poet-in-Residence, a vital voice at the intersection of language and visual art. Through readings, workshops, and written works inspired by our exhibits and community, the Poet-in-Residence brings fresh perspective to the museum experience—inviting visitors to see, feel, and reflect in new ways. This program celebrates the power of poetry to deepen engagement, foster connection, and illuminate the world around us, one carefully chosen word at a time
Introducing the Bellefonte Art Museum’s 2026 Poet-in-Residence: Paula Schroeder
The Bellefonte Art Museum for Centre County is delighted to announce Paula Schroeder as our 2026 Poet-in-Residence. This residency program, inspired by initiatives like the Guggenheim’s Poet-in-Residence program, aims to integrate poetry into the museum experience, fostering deeper connections between visual art and the written word.
Paula is a retired nurse living in Boalsburg, who has written poetry throughout her life. Upon returning to her beloved hills of Pennsylvania, she presented a radio essay on WPSU entitled, I Believe in the Healing Power of Poetry. Since then she has participated in poetry readings, contributed to several local literary magazines, and had her poems featured in an exhibit of modern acrylic artwork at Schlow Library in 2024.
She is a multiple winner of the monthly BAM Ekphrastic Poetry Contest, and looks forward to encouraging fellow poets by facilitating public poetry experiences, as the 2026 Poet-in-Residence at the Bellefonte Art Museum.
Stay tuned for upcoming events and programs featuring Kate Hoffman, as we embark on a year of artistic exploration and poetic discovery at the Bellefonte Art Museum.
Poet in Residence Work
April Poetry
"At Belmont Pond" by Paula Schroeder
I am never completely detached from the web,
occasionally, when the wind blows hard,
some strands break and dangle in
a
dizzying
flutter….
but other connections hold,
in newly woven
strength and structure,
to capture my free fall.
Birds at the pond this morning,
attend my coronation;
cardinal processes before me
along the earth toned aisle,
pausing at each sacred spot
to pronounce a blessing,
until we reach the stone throne
at the water's edge,
where I am seated next to the mallards,
who have been in attendance since sunrise,
helping themselves to bar and buffet,
bottoms up,
Before the rites begin.
two Canadian geese bluster in,
and skitter into proper formation,
haggling back and forth
to reach consensus
on who should attend me
to my right
and to my left.
I am passing.
Earth is passing.
And a single ray of light
glancing off the water,
laser sharp,
cuts me wide open
to excise the tumor
of doubt and despair,
Here, beside the Belmont pond,
I am proclaimed beloved,
as I begin my rule over my tiny realm,
healing a peace within myself,
so that a piece of Mother Earth
will heal and expand ever outward….
note:
Belmont Pond is located on the grounds of McLean Hospital,
located in Cambridge Massachusetts.
March Poetry
"Appalachian Lament" by Paula Schroeder
John L. Lewis heats his house with gas,
I heard it at the bar yesterday,
while Grandma was out pickin' coal off the tracks,
to keep her grandbabies warm.
Ain't no hoppers backin' up these rails,
the sign on the mine's been turned around.
It's a worrisome time when the boss is outta town
and you don't know when he's comin' back.
Cold enough in this house
to keep a body for three days
searchin' for signs of life.
The locomotive struck before the pail was half full,
Grandma's home, but she's never comin' back.
February Poetry
"The Grande Dame of Poetry"
I caught a glimpse, the other morning,
of the Grand Dame of Poetry,
who abides behind the scenes,
on the second floor of this museum.
She glided across the gallery
during the installation of a new art display,
dressed in a form fitting,
crystalline white gown that swished
gently around her ivory skin;
carrying the same aura of mystery
as her ancestral cousins
on the Baskerville side of the family.
She, however, did not need
to raise a ruckus from far away,
to announce her approach;
she just passed eerily,
though comfortingly near,
whispering beautiful words
and turns of phrase
to alert me of her approach,
bearing the gift of a poem.
January Poetry
"Winter Rest"
as long as
an Arctic breath rustles the air,
and the yawning eye
of a rising winter sun,
subdues any urge
to be aroused,
I'm maintaining confinement
in a restful slumber,
deep in dark soil,
productively cradling life,
in patient gestation,
restraining new birth,
until equinox,
has balanced the odds
that warmth will increasingly
infuse the light -
keeping the chillblains at bay.