Free Poetry Contest at Utmost Christian Writers

Our Free Poetry Contest

You Be the Judge

Utmost Christian Writers is the home of contests for Christian poets—and poetry contests require judging.

We're giving you a chance to be a poetry judge! We've provided three poems below, and we want you to choose the winning entry. These three poems are not part of any current poetry contest—they're each available in our Gallery—but if you are chosen as the best poetry judge you will be the winner! We'll send you a free copy of Barbara Mitchell's poetry book, I Know You, Lord.

The winner of this contest will be chosen on the basis of the explanations given in the judgement. Simply state which poem you think is the winner and tell us why. The "why" is crucial!

After January 1, 2007, we'll choose a winner and send a free book. The winner will be announced right here!

Here are the contestants

(a link for sending your judgement is at the bottom of this page)

Entry #1

Sunrise

Wispy cirrus clouds
in a cantaloupe-colored sky
wetly nuzzle the
weatherproof window
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.

Entry #2

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.

Entry #3

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,
I remember,
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.