Our Free Poetry Contest Winners
Results of Our First Poetry Judging Contest
We apologize for not providing results for our contest in a timely manner, but to make amends for our tardiness, we are offering six prizes, rather than the one prize we had promised!
We received a total of 203 votes for the poems in our first contest, and we are very grateful for the thoughtful comments you provided with your votes. We will contact the winners and arrange to mail poetry books as prizes.
We will keep this page and the comments available, as it can be very interesting and instructive to see how different people respond to poems.
Entry #1: Received 52 total votes
Wispy cirrus clouds
in a cantaloupe-colored sky
wetly nuzzle the
in my bedroom, alarming
sharp-edged stars that
peopled my restless night.
Deeply indented crimson lines
crisscross my pale skin
like marks of penance,
the imprint of tangled knots
on the hand crafted comforter
beneath me, but
the lush fruit of a colorful
sunrise preaches sweet possibilities,
persuades me to rise
from my scoffers pillow
and taste of life again.
Copyright©2004 by Jim Cox
Entry #2: Received 82 total votes
My Bland God
When I fashion you in my image, you're so tame.
You appreciate my perspective.
My enemies are your enemies.
There are no 10-foot waves in our relationship.
I'm never dashed to the bottom of the sea
to scrape my face and choke on sand.
I pin you down, wings immobile but twitching,
where you can't flick the earth off its course
or wail like a lover, broken by lies.
No right or wrong,
just shades of gray.
No war cries,
just refined civility.
Like porn addicts who think they know women,
I think my appetite for religious delicacies
Will be sated by you, my pocket-god.
But when razor-truth punctures my heart,
when myths explode and smoke is everywhere,
the sheer terror and joy of You
renders me stunned and undone.
Copyright©2003 by Catherine R. Fiorello
Entry #3: Received 69 total votes
Rituals of a Quasi-Pagan Childhood
I remember clearly the day I was baptized:
how I scowled at the smiling cheerleader in the front pew,
unrepentant of my dislike,
the crispness of the white cotton gown and the tepid water.
But most of all,
after the service, shaking hands with strangers,
the gift of a pair of white moccasins, leather, with embroidery.
And how I wore them to shreds
in a summerful of rain dances to Jesus.
Copyright©2003 by Jenna Pashley