Sandy Dahlhofer – 1st Place Poetry 2023
WE TOOK A TRIP TO A QUAINT LITTLE TOWN,
TO HAVE SOME LUNCH AND LOOK AROUND.
WE CAME UPON A UNIQUE ART SHOP,
SO OF COURSE YOU KNOW, I HAD TO STOP.
ONCE INSIDE WE VIEWED WITH AWE,
AT ALL THE BEAUTIFUL THINGS WE SAW.
ONE SPECIAL PIECE I COULD NOT PASS
A SNOWFLAKE MADE FROM HAND FUSED GLASS.
I THOUGHT TO MYSELF, “THIS IS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE”
AS IN MY HEART, I WAS THINKING OF YOU.
I RAN TO THE REGISTER FAST AND HARD,
AND QUICKLY WHIPPED OUT MY MASTERCARD.
THE LADY THERE WAS SWEET AND KIND
“MAY I ASK WHY YOU CHOSE THAT, IF YOU DON’T MIND?”
I TOLD HER THAT I LOVED THE PIECE,
AND WAS BUYING IT FOR A SPECIAL NIECE.
I TOLD HER HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME
THAT YOU HAVE A DISEASE KNOWN AS ‘MG’.
A DISEASE THAT IS ALSO CALLED “SNOWFLAKE.”
HER EYES TEARED UP AND HER HEART SEEMED TO ACHE.
I COULD TELL THAT SHE WAS ABOUT TO CRY,
AS SHE WRAPPED UP THE PACKAGE AND WAVED GOOD-BYE.
“BUT WAIT”.. I STAMMERED. “I DIDN’T PAY.”
“I KNOW.” SHE SMILED. “HAVE A NICE DAY.”
“BUT WHAT ABOUT THE ARTIST? SHE CAN’T WORK FOR FREE!”
“DON’T WORRY MY DEAR, THE ARTIST IS ME.”
“BUT WHY ?” I BLURTED. “ IF YOU DON’T MIND THAT I ASK.”
“YOUR GENEROSITY IS MORE THAN I CAN GRASP!”
SHE FOLDED HER HANDS, AND GAZED TOWARD THE SKY,
SHE ANSWERED MY QUESTION BY THE LOOK IN HER EYE.
A GIFT FROM ABOVE BESTOWED THROUGH HER,
AND I AM JUST THE MESSENGER.
Moon Dance
Amy Pontius – 2nd Place Poetry 2023
The moon is an orb of fine silvery sweet
Dancing each night to her own rhythmic beat
The stars are her partners, they twirl and spin
Except one – quite irked by her moon-dancing twin
But the moon understands, and closes her eyes
She turns off her music to let the sun rise
The day is awakened, the stars go to sleep
The sun is now smiling with no need to weep
She stretches unfolding her buttery beams
Sneaks under lace curtains and closes out dreams
She rolls through the valleys and drinks up the dew
Caresses the flowers and paints the sky blue
She summits the mountains and blankets the land
Throws diamonds on water and heats up the sand
She keeps rising higher, hopscotching through clouds
Naps only a moment when rain is allowed
O’ mighty healer! Earth’s soft goldenrod balm
Faithful and constant, she heals like a psalm
Thus, she deems her twin useless, dancing all night
Forgets what goes on when she turns out her light
Scoffing at the mischief, she tucks in her heat
Folding up her fire, she falls fast asleep
It sure seems silly for a night-moon to play
The grass cannot grow from that silvery ray
The moon winks – and rises as owls awake
Her music spills out in the sky with a shake
Bright stars start to shuffle, step, and sashay
Waltzing off worries that unsettled their day
All night life is stirring, happy to move
The dark cloak of evening busts out a groove
While day needs sun’s spotlight, night also shares love
For one silvery orb that dances above
The Land Before This
Grace Brendel – 3rd Place Poetry 2023
The Land Before This
The land before this
before the plates shifted
and Pangaea became the continents, we were united as one
One of peace, one of prosperity, one of generosity, and one of love.
The land before this, I’d be proud to call my home
I’ve been there, it was calm, it was friendly
it greeted me with a smile every time I returned to its humble grounds.
Sure, what’s one small town in the grand scheme of things?
In respect to the world, outer space and its countless galaxies
containing billions upon trillions of stars.
The land before this was kind, soft with compassion and care, yet tough, ready for a beating.
With great pastures of flowers, lavender and sunflowers for harvesting
to the gusts of wind destroying it all in one sweep of its mighty sword.
Flooded, broken, and beat, those happy fields, somber now, lie still
As the storm began to fade, the damage was seemingly irreversible.
But yet it made it through
The land before this never had a lack of love
every fiber of our living world, its gentle creatures living amongst us
as we ran scattered laps ‘round this great big world
Even now, even then, love does not cease to exist
but with love, the artificial kind right at our fingertips
our replenishable water rots, toxicity rises
The land before this built itself up
the highest of trees, the clearest of skies
the great lengths we would go for another
A land now filled with greed
our trees collapsed, skies grew dark
another would kill to build themselves up, and tear the rest of the land down with it
The land before this never gave a second thought to the color, shape, or identity of another
The land served us all, providing for us, black or white, rich or poor, loved or alone
The Land Before This
The land before the earthquake hit, destroying all we once knew, fell before our very eyes
The day our own utopias collided into a divided world
One where looks could kill
status could terminate second chances
and reputations could be put to shame
I’d choose the land before this any day
Where in the grand scheme of things, life was not quite so appalling
Nature now greets us with despair, begging for a droplet of fresh, cordial water
We pass by faster than ever before, stripping away the last remnants of our history, our story, and
our love
The land before this.
Maritime Muse
Megan Dalziel – 1st Place Poetry 2022
I want to dance like moonlight dances on the sea
With a perfect rhythm that rises organically.
I want to breathe as deep as a dolphin can dive
So that every last inch of me knows its alive.
Let me paint with the colors of all fish and seashells
And with the same determination with which a wave swells.
I want to know a loyalty as strong as the tide
And flow with fearless freedom, the wind as my guide.
For inspiration, look to whomever you choose.
Me? I want the ocean to be my muse.
Bayou Sunset
Debbie Watz – 2nd Place Poetry 2022
Minimum Wage-Brianna
Paul Anthony – 3rd Place Poetry 2022
ⓒ 2021 by Paul Anthony
Brianna pulled on her mask, rolled up the car window
pushed open the door of her ’98 Corolla.
‘Still sticks,’ she thought, ‘ever since that night he kept
kickin’ at it when I was backin’ down the driveway with the baby.”
She walked through the parking lot, gathered up
a few stray shopping carts on her way to the store.
‘How lazy can ya be?’ she asked no one,
‘cart corral’s right over there.’
She pushed the carts to Louise who had cleaning duty that morning,
walked into the store between the shiny automatic doors,
squeezed a circle of hand sanitizer onto her palm,
took her post behind the customer service counter.
First customer asked for a rain check for a buy-one
get-one-free hungry burger soup. “Dan likes his own can for supper,”
she said blankly, “that with a few beers and a shot.
On a good night he’ll fall asleep before wantin’ anything else.”
“Next guest,” called Brianna. “Cashier sent me here;”
said the young mother, toddler in each hand, baby in the cart.
She handed two plastic bags to Brianna, “My card was declined.”
“I’ll take care of it with the manager,” Brianna replied, “we’ve been there too.”
An old man, white-haired man, stood patiently at the lottery counter.
“One dough-for-a decade ticket, please,” he placed eight quarters on the counter.
Brianna smiled invisibly under her mask, finding something
reassuring in an old man buying a dough-for-a-decade lottery ticket.
