June 2010Featured Reader and Judge: Maureen Ford
First Place:Swimming Laps
by Beth SK Morris
'Breathe in, Breathe out'
arms like wheels
churning up the pool
legs kicking to the
rhythm of my breath
'Face up, Face down'
body rolling
side to side
touch and turn
count the lap
'Breathe in, Breathe out'
my father too
frail as he was
he'd walk to the pool
to swim his laps
'Face up, Face down'
pulling the cap
over his head
keeping the water
out of his ears
'Breathe in, Breathe out'
two or three strokes
from the shallow end
perfect in form but
measured and slow
'Face up, Face down'
forty pills
on the countertop
twenty to hold
the arteries open
'Breathe in, Breathe out'
twenty to keep his
heart from stopping
year after year
from the first attack
'Face up, Face down'
lap 24 images rise
try to forget
fighting for life
in a hospital bed
'Breathe in, Breathe out'
the swimmer the runner
the father I knew I'm
the same age as you
when you drew your last breath
'Face up, Face down'
give me the courage
not to fear death
swim with me bless me
teach me to live.
Father’s Day
(Acrostic)
by Victoria Maynard
F ull of worldly wisdom and advise
A Iways there for me when troubles came
T eaching that true love takes sacrifice
H eard tales of my Hi- \mx, assigned no blame
E ver patient were his watchful eyes
R ejoicing when he knew I'd learned life's game
S peaking softly .guiding by example
D oing what was right without a qualm
A Ithough Dad, you've left this earthly plane
Y ou filled my mind and heart with goodness
and that part of you , in me, will always remain.
Honorable Mention:
The Waiting Room
by Stephanie Langson
Young the child who caught my sight,
old his eyes intense and bright,
long we stared sitting there consciousness awake, aware.
Names were called. He was gone.
I looked into space beyond.
That which had remained unseen, background to this waking dream,
forward moved immense and strong, overtook the waiting throng.
Those who seemed alive and real
faded into this force field,
transparent ghosts, movements slow
spoke in whispers hushed and low.
What is alive is not the form.
No one dies and no one's born.
Names are given. Names are called.
Life lives not in names at all.
Honorable
Mention:
You Passed in 2004 But Not From Me
by Lindalee Ratti Ross
Just kiss me once again
to sooth my fading memory.
Bend down your head to mine once more.
Let your lips close softly
across my forehead and descend.
My waiting lips turned up
to receive their warm touch,
their warm thrust.
Let me feel your eyes linger on my lowered gaze.
And then apprehend me
like a moth drawn to light.
Those lips brush softly across my lids
and settle on my lips.
Breathe your hunger rhythmically in my ears.
Kiss me deeply and ignite, the smoldering ashes,
in this old heap.
Draw me close and have your way with me again.
That way, that became my highway.
The highway I rode upon while you drove me thru loops.
I lost the key, long long ago.
My memory fading
twilight, twinkling star, your eyes
that key to long ago.
Special Contest: Ballade:Ballade of a Ghetto Child
by John Vincent Palozzi
JZ was bom a ghetto child
His mom and dad were children too
Twaz not a life of meek and mild
Their daily bread they must pursue
"by any means" is what they do
His dad got caught by cops one day
They caught him cauz of his tattoo
and off he went for a five year stay
JZ's mom hardly ever smiled
Her doped up eyes were so askew
She could not care for a wild child
and spent her bread on crack and glue
She said she loved her little boo
but that didn't keep her from the fray
They found ten grams in her red shoe
and off she went for a five year stay
JZ grew up a wild child
who sometimes felt so sad and blue
He'd wear the mask of bad and wild
so those around him would construe
that if they messed with him they knew
he'd hurt them bad. And then one day
when angry words flew, a fight did brew
and off he went for a five year stay
JZ, his dad, his mom, into
a life of constant disarray
became the victims of taboo
and off they went for a five year stay
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