Which of these runners and stunners deserves to win?

Watch it fall
3 (7.7%)
1 (2.6%)
4 (10.3%)
2 (5.1%)
4 (10.3%)
Awake at last
4 (10.3%)
7 (17.9%)
Pain in the Ice
1 (2.6%)
Their oak
13 (33.3%)

Total Members Voted: 18

Voting closed: February 20, 2012, 02:05:57 PM

Author Topic: Poetry Contest No 57. Please cast your votes  (Read 988 times)

Offline Gyppo

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Poetry Contest No 57. Please cast your votes
« on: February 13, 2012, 02:05:57 PM »
Here we are.  (If some kind mod will apply the magic sticky solution to keep it on the front page for a week.

After a sluggish start, possibly occasioned by the chilly nature of the picture prompt, nine of you donned your fingerless mittens and typed up an entry.  An interesting selection for your delectation, ranging from near haikus to 'mighty tomes'.  Thankyou for taking part.

I'll allow up to three votes from each of you.  Please use all three, as this makes the runner-up positions more interesting.

Closing date for votes, midnight GMT Sunday 19th February 2012.

Here's the Runners and Stunners ;-)



1)  Watch it Fall

It wonít be long now,
the thaw will continue with icy creep
and instead of a gentle melt and drip
the fallen tears will burn
accusation in pooled regret.


2)  Thaw

Soon,  love-
green tendrils will break through the snow

a reminder
weíre alive!


3)  Untitled

crystal chrysalis
inside nascent spring awaits


4)   Untitled

goosebumps and crystals
show Spring anticipating
in frozen movements


5)  Untitled

While I slept Mother Nature visited.
She spread a fluffy white blanket
to cover the world I know,
turning it into a blank canvas
for the sun and wind to draw on.

Mr. Sun, despite feeling weak,
etched his ideas to share his vision.
Wind came along, huffing and puffing,
arranged snow to fit what he felt it should be.
Facing North, Wind took a deep breath,
turned forward again and exhaled, freezing their creation.


6)  Awake at last

The willow stick
The gardener snipped
Snow slipped
Ice dripped
The thaw had begun
Morning sun
Warms nature's lung
Young buds sprung
Not yet here
But spring is near
New life peers
Through frozen tears
Carpet of Bluebells
Early spring themselves
March in wooded dell
Vibrant blues ranks swell
Crocus and Daffodil
Adorn lawn and hill
Brightly happy and still
Content in shivering chill
Blackbirds hop
From snowy spot
Robin and Tit swap
Twigs they sit atop
Song Thrush
Run and rush
Crisp morning hush
Listens for a grub so lush
Willowy fingers
Winter lingers
Flowers, joy bringers
Birds, springs singers
Nature's sleep near past
She awakens at last
From winters icy blast
Spring approaches fast

7)  Untitled

for a time my fatherís will resists
the wintering of his mind but
soon enough the shimmering of the branches
at the window freezes into the abstract

each limb becomes art
human sometimes
insect too
or could be venusís hair
from an eon ago

as I watch him
his face ices over
unable to name
he stalls for time
his thief and guardian

in his stillness
in the unknown
I detect what he fears
not the rigidity of forgetfulness
but the fluid melt of pasts and presents

when I touch his hand
it does not reach beyond
the threshold
remains dangling in-between

finally he speaks,
calls me Michael,
his long dead brother,

without a thought or flicker,
he erases me before my time.


8)  Pain in the Ice

Santa was here!
He left a red sled
Fresh snow

Big hill - never fear!
My breath makes clouds
Frosty white glow

The top at last!
Sit on the red sled
Let go!

Flying down fast!
Fantastic wipeout
Covered in snow!

Do it again!
C'mon Daddy
Let's go!

Woe and chagrin
Sister won't wear her gloves
Inside we go

9)  Their Oak

above his head snow melts, drips from the branches
cool his sweating brow, he looks down, smiles,
glad that a thaw has come and the winter sun
softens the earth under their favourite oak
where names are carved, love4ever and a heart,
or a stupid cupid's bow captured the moment
he grins and thrusts the spade into the sod
nearly finished, nearly deep enough

with a sigh he steps back and heaves his heavy load
a pale hand waves him goodbye, he laughs
and waves back, shovels the sticky soil over the bags
shakes his head as he remembers

"we can still be friends" she'd laughed in his crying face
"let's bury the hatchet" she'd suggested

and he had, she just hadn't expected it
to be buried in her head

« Last Edit: February 20, 2012, 04:19:39 PM by fire-fly »
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Offline Alice, a Country Gal

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Re: Sticky: Poetry Contest No 57. Please cast your votes
« Reply #1 on: February 14, 2012, 05:09:49 PM »
Time to read and vote folks. It doesn't take long.

Come on and make your votes count for your 3 favorites.  ;)
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