May 2010 Winning Poems
Judged by Riva Dunaief
First Place:
Miss Birdie
by Blake Valin
Miss Birdie los' so much weight
she done look like a cat scratch pole.
Her han's is a pickin' at her dress so,
like two nervous crows.
I take holt o' them. They icy cold.
She not lookin' at me.
Mo' like she look right thu me.
Miss Birdie, you in there? I say.
I memory her singin' me out o' my spells.
If ‘n her voice had a color, it be chocolate,
so smooth, an' sweet it' stuck love on you
like mud do after a springtime rain.
My love be clear, pure like de water
she sippin' from dis here glass I got:
Clean as de tear on my cheek,
Shinin' like a priceless diamon'.
Second Place:
The Second Sunday of May
by John Vincent Palozzi
It snowed on Mother's Day
bringing a winter cover of white
upon the already opened lilacs
that announced the summer to come
A newborn was himself a present for his mother
and didn't care that it was snowing on her day
He will be told of the birthday snow
when he is older and able to marvel
Another mother took her last breath after seeing the snow
After watching it settle on the lilacs
she wondered what will become of the world
she was about to pass from
We're waiting for Father's day
wondering if his present of a baby girl
will be told, when she is old enough to marvel
about the snow that fell on the third Sunday of June
Honorable Mention:
1929
Name Not Provided
A short distance
from the Brighton Beach boardwalk uproar:
boarding houses, cracked facades
renters: cardboard-thin walls deny privacy,
one smelly, rusted bathroom,
floors rough with sand fallen off shoes,
narrow rooms, faint light bulbs
Spare breakfast, silent lunch, cold bologna sandwiched in, supper, potato soup, stale bread Sullen strangers,
eating away joy.
The most withdrawn woman, once chatty,
owned the neighborhood emporium
expensive perfume,
leather, silk, cool cotton,
high style mannequins
Life's window dressing
abandoned
Upheaval of banks gone broke
On the lawns and streets
their possessions auctioned
For the poor.
trickle down gone.
The gavel hits even harder.
Lives auctioned.
Honorable Mention:
Feeding Frenzy
by Beth S.K. Morris
The refrigerator door
flung open
the reconnaissance mission
has begun.
Like the ancient
Israelites
searching for manna in
the desert,
every shelf and bin
becomes a mountain
to be crested, a river
to be forged, a people
to be conquered
until the chosen
field is found;
the desire to eat
replacing desire, a growling belly
denying death; hunger for food
displacing hunger for life,
for sex, for dreams, for something...
Strange canapes appear:
slices of
onion on week-old bread,
garlic and
anchovy dips spread on
tomatoes drowning in
olive oil
laced with salt and pepper,
pieces of
left-over salmon bubbling
in a can of baked beans.
I live in fear that someday he
will mistake
his blood pressure pills for
a garnish
and sprinkle the Altace over his eggplant like
cheddar cheese.
Special Contest Winner: Sijo:
Sijo
by Shirley Kent
In the distance, a giggling stream tumbles 'round shallow rocks.
Quietly, coil necked, dagger beaked, the great blue heron stalks, hunts.
Black, white flashes, talons extended, the fish hawk grabs dinner.
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