April 2010 Winning Poems
Judged by Janice Fine
First Place:
Backward Glance
by Linda Levine
as each day
bleeds into the next
I watch another
piece of her
slip away
her words are
tangled threads
woven on a
loom of confusion
wrinkled and creased
she folds inward
fades into yesterday
she lingers
through a
serenade of seasons
but no longer
hears the music
her hand
lies still in mine
a feather that
no longer flies
Second Place:
Buttons
by Thomas J. Pangia
The Singer sewing machine sits
against the wall in the attic
still shiny despite its age
the bottom drawer still overflows
with buttons of every conceivable type
we used them as money for our games
the small ones were pennies
the larger – quarters
and the fancy – dollars
how rich we were
the middle drawer still has the bill of sale
1945 – a little faded now
but about $15
a lot at that time
I remember Mom mending
darning socks, crocheting, knitting
replacing buttons
altering hand me downs
we were all patchwork
a quilt
closely knit pieces of each other
the sock egg sits idle
scared from hard use
it will all be sold on consignment
but what is it worth
does anyone mend anymore
the buttons alone
are at least a million
make believe
Honorable Mention:
Remembrance To: DKB
By: Diana L. Fazio
There is nothing
that could ever hurt more
than living without you,
every day, feeling you inside
especially knowing
you are still out there somewhere
with her
my undisclosed predecessor
who was there waiting for you
even as I lay in the arms of your love.
The humdrum days
drip down like raindrops
one after another
after another
empty falling into dust
Each time the remembrance encroaches
I run from its specter, but stumble and stop
then all of my ramparts fall apart
and the banished memory
assaults my heart
your image lives there
the pain of the dripping days
doesn't change it:
this dazzling remembrance –
of you
with your astonishing emerald eyes
looking down at me as I lie there
bathed in the passionate gentleness
of your caresses –
clothed in the shimmer
of our ecstasy
and amid the hushed song
of whispering roses
as you gaze down upon me
with torrid tenderness
I breathe in your splendor, so great
that it dims the bright
of the candles of the night
then from within your hallowed halo
you are telling me
with the utmost calm
that your abundant affection can bear
that I am the most beautiful thing
you've ever seen
Honorable Mention:
Come Back To the Mountain
by Mary Kelly McCormick
Come back to the mountain, Art Gates said.
Too few of our young people stay here.
I might come back when the kids are grown,
I tell him, knowing its not true.
Behind his glasses, ninety-three-year-old eyes squint
and laugh at me. He takes a thin paper from his shirt
and fills it with strings of brown tobacco.
You shouldn't smoke, I say. He squints up at me and grins.
Do you think I'll die before my time?
He puffs a few times and goes back
to hoeing potatoes as though someone will starve
if these plants die. I was a better hunter than your grandfather,
but he was a better fisherman.
From my car window I gaze
at green grass covering an old garden.
As I drive up Durant Road
the mountain squints down at me in the sun.
Promises slide off the tongue
and land in the dirt near potato plants.
The old guide is gone
and on the hill the cemetery is full.
Honorable Mention:
Holocaust Films
by Trudy Livingstone
Lonely girl
Sitting in movie theatres
On sunny afternoons
Another Holocaust movie today
Attendance is manditory
I have to attend
My family cannot
No longert here
This is their story
Never satisfied
I have to witness
The unending films
Just to feel close
To those I never knew
I don’t want them to think
They are forgoten
This is their Kaddish
They live on
Through eternity
Though I never met you
You burn on in my memory
the fimls aid my imagination
And so I watch
Over and over
A lonely girl
Sitting in movie theathers
On sunny afternoons
Special Contest: Pantoum:
A Moment's Bliss
by Bonnie Jacobson
Oh, why had she walked toward him, with that ponytail swinging;
Smiling at him, briefly, with an energy that made her glow?
Blissfully transfixed, the boy's heart began singing,
To the rhythm of a body that swayed blond hair to and fro.
Smiling at him, briefly, with an energy that made her glow,
She waved, just a twitch, reestablishing his heartbeat,
To the rhythm of a body that swayed blond hair to and fro;
Caused by pithy recognition and a moment bittersweet.
She waved, just a twitch, reestablishing his heartbeat,
Fantasy and bliss soared through the young man's mind,
Caused by pithy recognition and a moment bittersweet.
How painful. He was simply an acquaintance; their lives were unaligned.
Fantasy and pleasure soared through the young man's mind.
Blissfully transfixed, the boy's heart began singing.
How painful. He was simply an acquaintance. Their lives were unaligned.
Oh, why had she walked toward him, with that ponytail swinging?
Judged by Janice Fine
First Place:
Backward Glance
by Linda Levine
as each day
bleeds into the next
I watch another
piece of her
slip away
her words are
tangled threads
woven on a
loom of confusion
wrinkled and creased
she folds inward
fades into yesterday
she lingers
through a
serenade of seasons
but no longer
hears the music
her hand
lies still in mine
a feather that
no longer flies
Second Place:
Buttons
by Thomas J. Pangia
The Singer sewing machine sits
against the wall in the attic
still shiny despite its age
the bottom drawer still overflows
with buttons of every conceivable type
we used them as money for our games
the small ones were pennies
the larger – quarters
and the fancy – dollars
how rich we were
the middle drawer still has the bill of sale
1945 – a little faded now
but about $15
a lot at that time
I remember Mom mending
darning socks, crocheting, knitting
replacing buttons
altering hand me downs
we were all patchwork
a quilt
closely knit pieces of each other
the sock egg sits idle
scared from hard use
it will all be sold on consignment
but what is it worth
does anyone mend anymore
the buttons alone
are at least a million
make believe
Honorable Mention:
Remembrance To: DKB
By: Diana L. Fazio
There is nothing
that could ever hurt more
than living without you,
every day, feeling you inside
especially knowing
you are still out there somewhere
with her
my undisclosed predecessor
who was there waiting for you
even as I lay in the arms of your love.
The humdrum days
drip down like raindrops
one after another
after another
empty falling into dust
Each time the remembrance encroaches
I run from its specter, but stumble and stop
then all of my ramparts fall apart
and the banished memory
assaults my heart
your image lives there
the pain of the dripping days
doesn't change it:
this dazzling remembrance –
of you
with your astonishing emerald eyes
looking down at me as I lie there
bathed in the passionate gentleness
of your caresses –
clothed in the shimmer
of our ecstasy
and amid the hushed song
of whispering roses
as you gaze down upon me
with torrid tenderness
I breathe in your splendor, so great
that it dims the bright
of the candles of the night
then from within your hallowed halo
you are telling me
with the utmost calm
that your abundant affection can bear
that I am the most beautiful thing
you've ever seen
Honorable Mention:
Come Back To the Mountain
by Mary Kelly McCormick
Come back to the mountain, Art Gates said.
Too few of our young people stay here.
I might come back when the kids are grown,
I tell him, knowing its not true.
Behind his glasses, ninety-three-year-old eyes squint
and laugh at me. He takes a thin paper from his shirt
and fills it with strings of brown tobacco.
You shouldn't smoke, I say. He squints up at me and grins.
Do you think I'll die before my time?
He puffs a few times and goes back
to hoeing potatoes as though someone will starve
if these plants die. I was a better hunter than your grandfather,
but he was a better fisherman.
From my car window I gaze
at green grass covering an old garden.
As I drive up Durant Road
the mountain squints down at me in the sun.
Promises slide off the tongue
and land in the dirt near potato plants.
The old guide is gone
and on the hill the cemetery is full.
Honorable Mention:
Holocaust Films
by Trudy Livingstone
Lonely girl
Sitting in movie theatres
On sunny afternoons
Another Holocaust movie today
Attendance is manditory
I have to attend
My family cannot
No longert here
This is their story
Never satisfied
I have to witness
The unending films
Just to feel close
To those I never knew
I don’t want them to think
They are forgoten
This is their Kaddish
They live on
Through eternity
Though I never met you
You burn on in my memory
the fimls aid my imagination
And so I watch
Over and over
A lonely girl
Sitting in movie theathers
On sunny afternoons
Special Contest: Pantoum:
A Moment's Bliss
by Bonnie Jacobson
Oh, why had she walked toward him, with that ponytail swinging;
Smiling at him, briefly, with an energy that made her glow?
Blissfully transfixed, the boy's heart began singing,
To the rhythm of a body that swayed blond hair to and fro.
Smiling at him, briefly, with an energy that made her glow,
She waved, just a twitch, reestablishing his heartbeat,
To the rhythm of a body that swayed blond hair to and fro;
Caused by pithy recognition and a moment bittersweet.
She waved, just a twitch, reestablishing his heartbeat,
Fantasy and bliss soared through the young man's mind,
Caused by pithy recognition and a moment bittersweet.
How painful. He was simply an acquaintance; their lives were unaligned.
Fantasy and pleasure soared through the young man's mind.
Blissfully transfixed, the boy's heart began singing.
How painful. He was simply an acquaintance. Their lives were unaligned.
Oh, why had she walked toward him, with that ponytail swinging?