May 2011 Winning Poems

Featured Reader: Riva Dunaief



First Place:


We All Live Here
by John Vincent Palozzi

Every little town has its finest citizen
one who lives in the largest home
who owns the most cattle or pigs or oil

Every little town has its poorest
the beggar or bastard sleeping on the street
combing garbage pails for breakfast

Every little town has a fair maiden
with perfumed hair and honey smiles
tugging at the hearts of many men, and a few women

Every little town has its dandy
the gay and happy man who dreams
of one day finding his husband

Every little town has its drunk
a pitiful man who tries his best
to drink away his pain

Every little town has a child
who looks at the world and wonders
if he will be president someday

Every little town has the best mother in the world
The best father in the world
the most loving child

Every little town has a grandmother and a grandfather
who are better raising their grandchildren
after some practice the first time around

Every little town has a mean old man
who hollers at the kids
and shoos them off his lawn

Every little town has its poet
and that be me


Second Place:

Antelope Slot Canyon- Page, Arizona
by Beth Morris

Eyes struggle to shift
from searing light to
darkness. We enter
the canyon; my fear
of caves yielding to
the silence and comfort
of the Navajo stone.

We move forward
along the path, shafts
of sun piercing the rock,
streaming through the
portals overhead: a
kaleidoscope of sand,
from gold to red to purple

forming the shape of
tulips, lilies, roses that
float off the canvas of a
Georgia O'Keefe painting-
the mouth of Mother Earth
opening and closing,
brushing the canyon walls.

I stop for awhile beneath
a craggy slot watching the
clouds pass above me, the
cobalt sky. Sand begins
to rain down on us. Our
guide shouts out, 'Take
shelter from the storm.'

Ignoring her warning, I stand
under the opening. The desert
comes in like snow: pellets of
sleet, then gentle flakes. My face
turned upward, I invite the sand to
caress me, cover me, cup my open
hands to receive the ancient blessing.


Honorable Mention:

Long Island, Once My Home
by Janice Fine

I'm stunned with your losses.

When it's your neighborhood,
your loved ones,
you're caught in the steel of a chain link fence.

Unlike the beach, boardwalk, crowds,
the stalker hides in the high reeds,
ready to pounce on the vulnerable.
A victim's sister challenged him, heard his threats.

But steel
chain link fences
keep her safe,
keep him out

In time, the serial killer
will be thrown in solitary more desolate
than empty distances,

and all his ritual burial grounds
will be reclaimed.


Honorable Mention:

24th Street
by Shirley Kent

his elbow folds
her soft hand wraps
gently arms brush
charmingly they stroll

his tight coils bound
her ringlets bounce
lightly eyes touch
charmingly they stroll

his denims hang
her print dress clings
in measured steps
charmingly they stroll

is this young love?
I only saw
that Saturday
how charmingly they stroll



Special Contest: Trimeric


Age of Technology
by Cyndee Bowdoin

We are the walking dead
Wrapped in self imposed isolation
Sending our words into cyberspace
We let our fingers do the talking

Wrapped in self imposed isolation
We long to connect to others
From the safety of our rooms

Sending our words into cyberspace
No need to touch or be touched
Since we can Facebook or IM

We let our fingers do the talking
Too afraid to say what is in our hearts,
"I am here. I am alone. Hold me."