POETRY CONTEST ENTRY LIST

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click on its title in the list and use the URL it creates.

DARK/HUMOROUS

3:44 by Brad Saph
The Cravin ‘ by James Mohan
Grotesquely Watching Death by James Mohan
The Night After New Years by Linda P. Hill

LOVE/FRIENDSHIP/FAMILY

Again by Lianne Wachira
If Love Made A Sound by Tabitha DeGruy
Isaiah by Monica Barrow
My Brother Robert by Elaine Breault

SPIRITUAL/INSPIRATIONAL

Afghanistan Mission by Marion Spicher
Birds by Linda P. Hill
Cycles of Life by Peggy Monaghan
Dancing With My Father by Tabitha DeGruy
Food by Donald Keith Rhodes
Hugh Hefner by Brad Saph
Life by Peggy Monaghan
On a Creative Level by Donald Keith Rhodes
Reflections in the White Horse Pub by Marion Spicher
Steven by Elaine Breault
What is Poetry? by Monica Barrow
You Are by Lianne Wachira

Poems:

Dark/Humorous

3:44
By: Brad Saph

My hate is building,
the race is fading,
my compassion is destroying,
I’m feeling the pain of blood running,
waisting my assets on knives churning.

bare skin, bare bones,
veins exposed. The matters of life
causing my anger to grow uncontolled.

I will where the death mask soon
covered in black the smoke will sooth,
demonic rage fill my eyes the human sole
becomes a plastic cry.

The Cravin ‘
By: James Mohan

Once upon a body wasted, there I sat, parched and pasted,
Thinking ‘bout the chocolate and sugared confections galore.
Waiting for the time to come, I heard a growling in my tum’.
Though I thought I only dumb, I knew that I could wait no more.
“Now with my stomach growling,” I muttered, “I know that I could wait no more.
It’s Halloween; I do implore.”

This all happened, as I remember, on that day before November.
My dad’s cigarette lost in ember; He lost in conversation with his best friend Thor.
“Dad,” I yell, “I must ‘Trick-or-Treat.’ I need to fill my sack with sweets.
This day will never be complete, unless I go from door to door.”
“Collecting lots of candy in my sack, traveling from door to door.
It’s my duty,” that I swore.

And then I realized what I needed, it was a costume I had deleted.
I told my dad to go on talking, talking to his best friend Thor.
I can’t believe I had messed up. Who’d ever forget to get dressed up?
You might think I need to rest up, but now all I want are the treats that I adore.
“Hey, Dad, I’m all ready. I’m ready to get the treats that I adore.
That’s all I want. Nothing more.”

He was still wrapped in conversation, while I, in growing anticipation,
Stood; my feet were tapping, tapping on the kitchen floor.
Staring at him in disbelief, bitter in this look of grief.
He finally noticed my current beef about him still on the phone with Thor,
So he ended his conversation and said his goodbyes to his friend Thor.
“Son, the night is yours, evermore.”

Looking out the window at the night ahead, I heard my mother shout out, “Bread!
Honey, since you’re going out, could you buy some bread at the local store?”
I looked at him to see him mumbling, looking mad, his mouth still grumbling,
Searching for his keys, his hands fumbling, while still grumbling about this grocery chore.
“It’s bad enough I have to take him trick-or-treating, but now I have this grocery chore.
Have I no life anymore?”

I could see the dread my dad was feeling. I watched his eyes as they kept reeling.
“At this rate,” he said, “I’ll never get to watch my Mary Tyler Moore.”
We both piled into the family car; the journey ahead, we knew, was very far.
“No matter how lacking in sweets you are. I’m not missing my Mary Tyler Moore.”
I didn’t protest because I knew how he wanted his fix of Mary Tyler Moore,
So off we went, gas to the floor.

I could see the others busy treating, and my heart was heavily beating
At the goodies I knew my sack would have in store.
But I knew we had another quest that my father, though complied, was in protest,
And he told me, as if in jest, “I must get that for the one that I adore.
I must get that bread for the wife of mine I adore.
You’ll get yours, so fret no more.”

He seemed to be in there for years, while I sat patiently, fighting back the tears.
“How long does it take,” I thought, “to buy that bread for my dear mother Lenore?
Why must I wait in anxiety, with this trick-or-treating swelling up inside me?”
Feeling as though something died in me, I was glad to see my father leave the store.
I wondered, “How long does it take to buy bread in that store?”
When he entered the car, I thought nothing more.

With that out of the way, my father sighed, “Okay . . . ”
I knew my quest was next; I did not need to implore.
And with the evening diminishing, Halloween would soon be finishing.
I could only cross my fingers, wishing, wishing it would not be like the year before.
My dad was somewhat comforting when he said, “This will not be like the year before.
You’ll get your share.” That he swore.

Again we sped down the city street. At this late hour, I knew I’d compete
With those whose sacks were obvious with outpour.
I hoped to fill at least half my sack, full enough to sling over my back.
Although I hoped to fill my pack, my pack of candied confections galore.
Knowing I would spend the night sorting out my beautiful collections galore.
Dad said, “Do not worry, evermore.”

No sooner said, I saw behind me flashing lights that did blind me.
I looked at my father who was looking awfully sore.
And as the car slowed down, my father peered at me with a frown.
“It doesn’t look like we will get around,” he confessed, “Looks like Halloween is o’er.”
The officer, alongside our parked car, repeated, “Looks like your Halloween is o’er.”
Adding, “But take this ticket, I implore.”

I could feel a tear run down my face painted like a clown.
The officer noticed my teary eyes and said, “Cry no more.
I think I may be able to ease your seemingly unanswered pleas.
Stay right here, if you could please.” And with that, walked away from the car door.
He returned only a moment later at the same location by my dad’s car door.
“I hope this helps you evermore.”

With that, I can remember, on that day before November,
Was a bag being handed to my dad through the window of the car door.
The officer, with a smile in his face said, “Since it looks like you made it no place,
I hope that this offering will erase any thoughts of being sore.
As I was handed the bag, I knew that I would never be sore.
It was full of sweets evermore.

As we headed toward our home, my fingers through the bag did roam.
“Yeah, I think it’s time we headed back,” said Dad, “and faced my lovely wife Lenore.”
And I knew I dared not mention about that last year’s indiscretion
With my dad’s creation he left for those “little monsters” rapping at our chamber door.
Ma said, “He just snapped at those kids nagging, nagging at our chamber door.
He said, ‘This is it! Nevermore!’”

“It’s not as though he scarred a life,” said my dad’s most loving wife.
“But those kids, I suppose, can only take so much gore.” I guess I really should explain just why my dad went insane, Why he went on this terror reign, which is now to be considered forgotten lore. Continue on, and learn about my father and this supposedly forgotten lore.
I shall make you wait no more.

It happened only a year ago, with night approaching and pumpkins aglow,
My father came home from work and slammed hard, slammed hard the chamber door.
He moaned, “I really hate my job! My boss is nothing but a slob,
A man I’d like to shish-kabob. He’s nothing but a worthless bore.”
A pause then followed and then he added, “Why must I work for such a bore?
Just leave me be, my Lenore.”

Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, and instantly my father sprang
From his chair as he bolted, bolted to the chamber door.
Now, I really don’t know what was said. All I heard was “Dad’s boss is dead.
Your father smite him in the head.” “He’ll not bother me anymore,”
He said, with devilish laughter that filled the room, “He’ll not bother me anymore.
Never agin that worthless bore.”

Needless to say my dad went crazy, although what’s next is still really hazy.
And then there came another bell ringing, ringing at our chamber door.
Little beings of hideous design, huddled together, began to whine
“Trick-or-Treat” to my dad who had lost his mind, as he stood there at the chamber door.
They thrust out their bags and my dad thrust out his bloodied hands, standing at the chamber door,
Saying, “Stay away, or there’ll be more.”

Now this was the story I was told, and, yes, I was still gullible at twelve years old.
Granted, for a while, I stayed away, afraid, afraid, of what I’d seen at the chamber door.
A week went by very scarily, my stomach was still acting very wearily.
One night, I walked into the kitchen very bare-ily, to see my dad laughing with his best friend Thor.
And when they noticed me, they tried to hold it in but couldn’t, Dad and his best friend Thor.
Dad said, “Sit down, O son of Lenore.”

They never thought it got me, off guard it really caught me.
It turns out they planned this whole ordeal at our chamber door.
Y’see, my dad and Thor never altogether grew up, they were even surprised I blew up.
“What would have happened if I threw up,” I said, “when I saw all of this gore?”
“Gee,” said Dad to his friend, “I knew we didn’t have enough of this gore.”
“Yes, you’re right,” said his friend Thor.

Well, here is where I end my tale. Time to eat these sweets before they’re stale.
It seems he didn’t get away with this prank, thanks to my dear mother Lenore.
When she found out, she concocted a plan, one that would surely get back at her man.
Now, you’ve got to understand, I wanted to get back at him much more.
But she said, “I know where to really hurt him, hurt him, oh, so much more.”
To him she said, “You sleep on the couch forevermore.”

Grotesquely Watching Death
By: James Mohan

Grotesquely watching Death ride by,
I wondered why he came so near.
I heard it was my time to die
And go onto that new frontier.

And when he came up next to me,
There was a stillness in the air.
I looked at him and he at me,
As though this Death enjoyed his stare.

I found it odd to be so close,
To have this stranger ape my gaze
I looked again, a second dose,
And minutes passed on into days.

I tell my friends about this day
When Death came riding into town.
They care not how I found my way
To six feet under cold hard ground.

The Night After New Years
By: Linda P. Hill

T’was the night after New Years
And OH! what a mess
Pop came in at three
Mom made him confess

Where have you been?!?
She screamed and she cried
“Doing nothing” he said,
But oh, how he lied!

He smelled of perfume
His face spelled out guilt
When he called Mom “Gloria”
The beans had been spilt!

Mom’s name is Anna
She showed him the door
She ranted, she raved
Than she hit him some more!

Now it’s the next year
Pop’s life just ain’t clover
He spilt the beans again
Same thing all over!

Love/Friendship/Family

Again
By:  Lianne Wachira

Make me fall in love with you again.
Fall so deep, sub-merse-me-
In your never ending  pool of passion,
dew drops of love on my parched tongue,
you did it once- you are the only one.

Engulf me in kisses wet.
Slow. Sweet. Soft. Supple.
Chills down my spine scramble,
make me love you again,
and again I will smile.
Dry tears no longer my fears,
banish the emptiness stored through the years.
Your silent whispers- my mind clears,
make me fall again…

If Love Made A Sound
By: Tabitha DeGruy

If love made a sound it would caress my ear ever so gently
It would engulf my ear drum and send me into a state of euphoria
The sound of love is my baby girl waking each morning and saying “I Love You Mommy”
Its the birds chirping outside my window after a hard rainy night
Its the silence that consumes me as I pray to my Heavenly Father before closing my eyes
If love made a sound it would be the laughter of children playing
The advice that lovingly escapes my Grandmothers lips
It would be the gentle moans that are created when you are ONE with your true love
Its in his voice..The sound of love echoes passionately in his voice when he recites poetry to me
and I love the pauses..for the dramatic effect
because even in those pauses I hear the sound of love
If love made a sound it would be the cries of a newborn baby entering its new life
and the silent cry a father cries when he gives his daughter away in marriage
It’s the tremble in a mother’s voice when she sits with her daughter to discuss…The Birds And The Bees
If love made a sound it would resemble the melodic tones of Luther Vandross
Every tone he sang was Heavenly, so you have to believe this is what love sounds like
If love made a sound I would have to say its that inner voice, which guides me to scribe
Its the joy in a old friends voice when you call them out of the blue
It’s the excitement in a teenagers voice when love becomes new
It’s the sound your heart makes for me
and the reciprocal beat mine creates for YOU
If love made a sound it would echo from the Heavens..validating its existence
It would dig deep into our souls, so we could know it was there
Sending each of us on a journey
Keeping us grounded as we rise
And lifting us when we fall
If you’re ever so quiet you can hear love say “Peace Be Still”
….I guess love has a sound after all

Isaiah
By:  Monica Barrow
*(Deuteronomy 23.2)*

We had been together many times before,
Mom didn’t know the boy I adored!
At fifteen she would say I’m too young,
Seems like yesterday to her I clung.

Today I found out I am pregnant,
And for nine months, my life becomes stagnant.
I am not even finished high school,
In this house, college is the “Golden Rule”.

As for him, he left me behind,
His age would make my pregnancy a crime.
I hid in my room for the last six months,
When mom brings up my size, I tell her its lunch.

The day is coming that labor is near,
My actual due date is unclear.
One night while lying on bed,
I felt so much pain and in my sheets I bled.

I covered my mouth to silence my pain,
And there was a little human being.
His face was blue and never did he cry,
As mom walked in all she could do is sigh.

That night, we both kissed our babies good-bye!

Inspired through Jesus

My Brother Robert
By:  Elaine Breault

BOBERT is the name I made him
he is my big brother and whom I adore
he is always there when I am in need
but I hope I am there for him as well

Growing up we never quite show that love
but now as adults we can express it more
and today is your day my brother Robert
it is your Birthday Bob so here you go

A little something nothing much
but I made it just for you so here it is
something small but with you in mind
that will bring a smile and a tear I hope

We have been loved and well brought up
to show that we give to each other as we can
be there for the six of us that mom and dad
have left behind to follow in their footstep

A hole is left by them passing on before us
but we are strong and know the they are here
above us and watching and caring and loving
us and showing how much they care even still

I hope we all have that part of us to show them
that they were the greatest parents of all
and be proud of who we are and become
and care for us til we have to meet at the gate

But hey Mom and Dad have no fear
we are NOT going to be seeing you there
at least for a very long time so til then
please dance and let your love shine thru us

Robert is your namesake Dad and it is his day
I am yours Mom and mine was yesterday
Just remember that you had me on his communion
So he has something to remember us all by

Take care my brother and am wishing you the best
since that is what you deserve and should get
March 3,2008 is just the beginning for you
and may the rest of this next year be even better.

Spiritual/Inspirational

Afghanistan Mission
By: Marion Spicher

Soldier’s with wives and army brats …
And pioneers with coon skin hats …
Adventure Spirits – away they go!
Hard to understand and know …
Why a man must do these things, must place themselves in danger!
Service given not to wives, but often to a stranger!

Abandoned many years ago, In heart and soul was I
Had naught to do but carry on, and try hard not to cry.
To trust in God and roll up sleeves, and tackle what’s ahead,
Be thankful for the years I’ve had, and for my daily bread.

Protect him, God, your gift of love, and bring him home to me.
I’ve too have hurt him many times, trying to break free —
Forgive me God and hold my heart, and help me through each day …
And if some time and heart is left, then teach me once again — to play.

Birds
By Linda P. Hill

Heaven blessed us with the bird
And so many types there are
But not one more beautiful than the rest
Whether near or much afar

To watch them soar and sing
Fills my soul with pride
To see them fly and swoop on wing
Sets me aglow inside

The poetry of their magic flight
Brings peacefulness to my soul
Watching their freedom makes me smile
And makes my being whole

Their heavenly songs upon my ear
Makes an unhappy day feel better
I feast upon their musical offerings
My heart as light as their feather

The bird is a miracle God placed on His earth
Showing us innocence in their magnificence
Their gift of love from the heavens above
Leaves me feeling His Almighty significance.

Cycles Of Life
By:  Peggy Monaghan

we go through life’s many cycles…
some good, some bad,
but always moving on.

as a child, we depend on our parents…
as we grow older, we become independent…
as a parent, we try to lead by example…
as a grandparent, we want to spoil.

we try to depend on others,
but we can’t always do that in life.
we have to learn to be strong
to survive what life brings our way.

life can be good; life can be bad;
life can be hard; but life is…
we make the most of what we have
and learn to be happy with it

Dancing With My Father
By: Tabitha DeGruy

Upon a crystal clear lake we danced
Hand in hand
Heart to heart
We glide
Sliding into our forever
Leaving behind our yesterdays
Never speaking of our tomorrow
I lightly step upon his feet and we waltz
A little girl inside, but all grown up on the outside
He holds me close as he whispers of his pride
I am in total awe of his strength and wisdom
But every little girl thinks that her father is king
My father brings forth beauty in everything we see
If you listen closely
Look hard enough
You’ll find him in everything around you
We glide
As I ask for forgiveness of my sins and
ask him to love me always
He smiles
Never saying a word I knew he would forgive me
forever and a day
At night to him I pray
Praying for the world, our hearts and souls
Believing completely that his love will keep us whole
We Glide
I hold on to him for dear life
Feeling every bit of pain dwindling away
Growing stronger as he takes away my strife
I danced with my Father today
Upon a crystal clear lake we danced
Hand in hand
Heart to heart
We glide
Sliding into our forever
Leaving behind our yesterdays
Never speaking of our tomorrow
Today upon a crystal clear lake I danced
Today I danced with my Father…God

Food
By:  Donald Keith Rhodes

Each day the weather progresses, I only knew it was sunny by opening a window.
A window you built but did not open. Did you ever know it was yours? The platoon
Bridge was shaky but the trip was short ending in open arms that never held you.
We lived together in our different lives till the earth moved putting miles between us,
Miles that were lost and became time. Time that should have been seconds somehow
Became light years forgotten. Till one day you were a different life a mother and a wife.
A voice on a phone only now beginning to know me, hear me thirty years late. Knowing me
Then to be just what I am now. One long piano note soberly tuned to a pitch abandoned
By silence. We appear to live but the ghosts all linger.

Smoothly retracing steps I never laid down, frowning at memories that just gave me smiles
Pondering how the wisdom left me, letting the window open any time it wanted, forcing me
To turn down dreams to make better dreams, I will never forget.
Wanting to move on but wanting to stay put. The hand must slip lose of my heart
But the hand was never there with my mind I put it there.
Should I care about the loss of life frozen in too many rooms the window never opened in.
Should the dread of darkness stop the light from peering in;
If so, how does the seed of one’s soul ever grow.

Hugh Hefner
By: Brad Saph

Wise and young the creation
of fantasy grew,
middle of the road his vision through
thoughts of passion gave the pointers
of fertility purpose,
crossing the fields the pictures and pipe
defined the image in steel and hope,
older and great what was young has grown
and matured fatherly and natured bosoms
and pleasure, God was good when he touched
the mind with an idea for love on paper
and words with desire, if only we could
spread the peace in the hearts of man
through worthy visions of selfless acts.
The elder genius will one day be in our memories
with joy as we tell the children of the greatness of
men and women who defined society
with throws of legend and armor for spirit,
what will we do if others of grace don’t show?
Vanish will we, thoughtless and dull?
Thank you kind sir for the block in time
wrapped with care and presented with
favor, I will recall my manhood in times of
war and hatred as the symbol of logic hid amongst
words and flesh.

Life
By: Peggy Monaghan

Life has many ups and downs
As it flows swiftly by
We dream of how our life will be
In the seasons of our time

It’s often not what we would wish
Or what we dream it to be
but life still keeps on flowing
In the seasons of our time.

On a Creative Level
By:  Donald Keith Rhodes

Small fingers tap tap tap
The largest sound on one side of the door
Filled voiced that boom boom boomed.

There are no ear plugs to stop the crying
From dry man hole tunnels of throats.
The buff male has his way with the barred female.

On some creative level of the student
A mind is wasted waiting approval
The yes man in the dim light says yes.

The centipede on its back, legs kicking madly
Seems too much like a tortoise with no hair
To flip him up and onto legs
That fly past him in a race others don’t dare.

The fire ants have lit a fire in my palm
Scratching it a flower blooms red and
Runs like a sun over mountains
Eggs with a little butter pepper and salt
A card from a wife when you turn older
Got a dip? Something good between hip and holster.
The ball just bounced in another school yard
Making the hounds in heaven bark.
Can you throw them a bone?

The bloated fat frog knows no human lips
Can give him warts or make him a thin prince
Or wag his tail.

My last three brain surgeries were a bust
The rich are among us
Thank God for bail out money
The rich are among us
They may be reading this.

We tried with all we had to create a better human
Play Creator with test tubes and tuber ware. But
No matter what we did we were still learning
The road signs did not give us clues to contents

Reflections in the White Horse Pub
By: Marion Spicher

If my life is but a day
The afternoon is waning
The evening’s gulls sail through the mist
Time’s momentum … gaining.

As the sun dips slowly down
It sends arrays of light.
Fills horizon’s clouds with pink
To ward away the night.

How do I feel about this time?
Wanting still to give?
I slowly slip to join the twilight
Wanting so to live.

I reach back but can’t retrieve
The days that have gone by ….
I can only reminisce ..
Breathe nostalgic sigh!

Concurrent things do settle in
A sort of letting go ….
Accepting peacefully “what is”
And there I too can grow.

In patience grace we need to know
That we must ratch it back.
We can take with patient grace
Our own encroaching lack!

I think that beauty comes with age ….
The quiet gentle knowing…
Facing weakness as it comes
Is that the best of growing?

A streak of absent mindedness
A painful here and there
Ah, yes! Like birth, this death must come
We must begin … prepare.

Steven ….
By: Elaine Breault

Life holds many surprises for us
Though we may not see it right now
We go thru the motions avoiding the fuss
And sometimes we get thrown under a bus

We live and learn and by doing so
We also laugh and love and cry and sigh
But there is a lesson to be learned you know
And you must see it before you can grow

That is what you have been thru so far
And though it seems to hurt more than ever
You know you can get thru it and raise the bar
Remember the lesson and rise from it to your star

You are fine and will continue to be
Live, Laugh, Love but take time for you
You have to also put yourself first and say ME
I need to know and love me first and that I agree

This is my birthday wish for you and one I bet
Take what you have learned up to the moment
Set yourself free from the past but do not forget
You are a wonderful person there is no regret

Hopefully you have learned what now to do
And what to avoid so that you can make
The best choices from now on and take a cue
That forever more is quite honestly your due

What is Poetry?
By: Monica Barrow

Poetry is the wind.
Poetry is the rhyme.
Poetry is all that’s hidden in one’s own mind.
Poetry inspires,
Poetry requires.
Poetry tells what history supplied in us.
Poetry is observation, marked by inspiration.
Poetry is all that in its own translation!
And you ask what poetry is?

Inspired through Jesus

You Are
By:  Lianne Wachira

You are the love of my life
The throb in my pulse
The song in my heart
And strength in my hand

You are the grace for my pardon
The light illuminating my stardom
The faith in my soul’s prayer
And the path that takes me there

You are the sun in my storm
Your love keeps me warm
My will to be strong
And my hope for a life long
Lord Jesus…you are