Gulf Coast Poets Chapter
Poetry Competitions
Winners
Page updated 6/30/2008
2007 Winners
Contest: Support your Local Poets
Winner: Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest Sponsor: Lynne Streeter
Byways
Unearthing a poem disturbs the psyche—
traversing treacherous trails
hacking through underbrush
pitching head first into pits
stumbling on steep mountains
groping fool’s gold
ignoring the mother lode
Scavenging the poem roller-coasts emotions—
shock stalking the unforeseen
frustration following misdirection
self-doubt annotating failures
satisfaction revenging absurdity
awe rewarding revelation
humility embracing survival
Exhibiting the poem acknowledges hope—
expectation extinguishing exasperation
understanding annihilating antagonism
beauty trouncing brutality
perseverance chastising chaos
compassion engendering healing
heart touching heart
© 2008 Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest: Ode to the Housecat
Winner: Denise Amodeo Miller
Contest Sponsor: None
Vittles and Tea
feline creature of habit
russet striped and spotted white
with emotion
social above all
but you say
no cuddling for you
since you are
too confident in your fur
of days knowing warmth and
an incessant rumbling
run to get your snack
treading upon ceramic tiles
in your loving home
only because I entered the room
you think it time to dine
and so I give in
and watch you as you
shake off that sticky morsel
that doesn’t sit quite right on your tongue
we both listen as it falls on the floor
with a tap tap tap
you glance at it with golden eyes
and decide it is now somehow tainted
so just continue within your feastbowls
of vittles and tea
© 2008 Denise Amodeo Miller
Contest: It’s Not the Thought that Counts
Winner: Ivy Kaminsky
Contest Sponsor: Becky Ellisor
Idiotic Idioms
If you give a mouse a cookie, you’ll wind up with a whole lot of baby mice
On the other hand, if you give a dog a cookie, you’ll end up with a friend for life
If you give a cat a cookie, he’ll just look at you like you’re crazy
You can give a cat a bath but your tongue will get awfully furry
Words speak louder than actions
Words can break bones
A sleeping stone gathers much moss
It’s easier to get the hairspray out of the can than to get it back in
If bees made money instead of honey then money might grow on trees
The truth is like shooting skeet, a moving target
One man’s funny is another man’s pain
It only hurts if you can’t laugh at yourself
You are the only person who truly appreciates your sense of humor
© 2008 Ivy Kaminsky
Contest: Singing Your Name
Winner: Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest Sponsor: Adriana and Luis Vázquez
Here - There
Here,
deep inside the innermost, interior part
of primordial life, where human forms constantly dart
and dodge; frantically seeking an anchor to grasp, to hold,
to steady; where cathartic motions, by cold
harsh winds, cease, settle to nothingness
and drop grotesquely in stupefying numbness,
I am.
There,
far away, eons away; galaxies, universes away;
away, away, away, somewhere in a kind of endless day,
sans time, sans limitations, sans uncertainty,
a fully healed being, soul and spirit relieved of pain, hurt, anxiety
pure and loving beyond reproach, beautiful beyond recognition
wise and knowing, smiling at my condition,
you are.
© 2008 Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest: Hold on for One More Day
Winner: Margo Davis
Contest Sponsor: Adriana and Luis Vázquez
Thin Vision
My chin rests in the crook of Mother’s elbow
until she panics, too, mule-kicking the back of my knee,
forcing me to sink into a fetal curl.
With that third, that final
plunge, as big toe reaches sandy bottom and caws rise
above the whoosh and a slap of churning waters,
my sister coaxes, shake free, swim straight to me.
Is my slender sister frightened? Or is laughter
drowned out by pounding eardrums, my wild heart?
My palms —braceleted baby-fat— scoop water,
breaking loose of Mother’s grasp and aim. I gulp
not fluid but rarified air, flip over
onto my back, stretch out long and wide
as if supported, and float-
no, I back stroke
toward light.
© 2008 Margo Davis
Contest: Member Contest
Winner: Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest Sponsor: None
Xenophobe
This is my
room. My room.
Everything in it belongs to me, matters to me.
No one else is inside. Only me.
The door's locked.
There's only one key. My key.
Do you want in?
Have a good reason.
If I agree, I'll check your credentials.
If you qualify, getting in won't be easy.
You may decide it's not worth the effort.
Will I ever come out, you ask? Doubtful.
If you want in or I want out, I must unlock the door.
And someone must break though all that ice outside.
That's a lot of work. Too much for me.
Unless you're willing to help.
© 2008 Mary Ann Goodwin
Contest: Walking With the Wind
Winner: Rebecca Hatcher Travis
Contest Sponsor: William Turner
Whisper in the Dark
the dead of night
carries her scent
wafting strange dreams
in the rustle of decaying leaves
untamed with her soil laden smells
and the peculiar taste of fear
she rushes quickly through silent streets
a different creature here
this dark wind
strange and changed after nightfall
feel her shift in the lamplight
fade away in unlit places
grow almost calm
then surprise you with a cool brisk chill
around certain corners
hear her whisper in the dark
warning
ever cautious
walking with her
often requires nerve
or a bold display of disregard
© 2008 Rebecca Hatcher Travis
Contest: Ever Yours
Winner: Sandi Stromberg
Contest Sponsor: William Turner
Love, Janis
response to a musical on the life of Janis Joplin
A certain envy invades me
as your life unfolds on the stage.
Not for your companion,
old Southern Comfort, or your home
in heroin. But even in death, you raise
the everlasting question: And had I done
the same? Listened to my inner self
instead of buying conventions: husband
and mortgage, children and job.
A graying chorus belts out “Mercedes Benz”
our voices raucous as yours,
the 60’s pulsing through our veins.
You speak to the twenty-something selves
we left behind as we grew old,
locked in ways you would never choose.
We forget your drive to self-destruct
and think only how it might feel to be
a shooting star across the bright night sky.
© 2008 Sandi Stromberg
Contest: Stand Up, Speak Out
Winner: Debi Fairchild, Pasadena, Texas
Contest Sponsor: Becky Ellisor
Voices
Here I sit
on my little island,
waiting
longing
for somebody.
Anybody, please,
contact me.
Tell me I‘m needed.
The beep sounds,
but the voice doesn’t speak.
I’m so lonely.
“Talk to me.
I need the warmth of your sound.”
But they hang up
once again.
© 2008 Debi Fairchild
Month/Year: February 2008
Contest: Lucky Thirteen
Winner: Katherine Sanger, Dickinson, Texas
Contest Sponsor: Becky Ellisor
dying the day before Valentine’s Day
the facts of the case:
cancer, terminal
hospice, pain management
death rattle, began
since September
we’d been watching and holding our breaths each holiday, hoping
like a Christmas episode of MASH
moving the clock ahead so that the soldier won’t die on Christmas
but now Christmas and New Year’s Day were past
what was left to hang on for?
better to have a holiday that’s untainted
that doesn’t remind us of death
so we waited,
not lucky enough to have Alan Alda at home for caretaking
but lucky enough to not have to equal love and death
as she slipped away in the middle of the night
dying the day before Valentine’s Day
© 2008 Katherine Sanger
Month/Year: February 2008
Contest: Between Myth and Reality
Winner: Ivy Kaminsky, Houston, Texas
Contest Sponsor: Becky Ellisor
Between Myth and Reality
Is a whole lot of why,
Questions, superstition, unexplained phenomena, religion,
Metaphors and even some poetry
The sun marches across the heavens
Someone thinks of a horse drawn chariot
The moon rises in the night time
Someone sees hoe and a beautiful young maiden
A person dies and goes to the afterlife
Someone thinks of a boat trip across a river
Flowers bloom in the spring
Someone thinks of rebirth
Leaves drop from the trees in autumn
Someone thinks of dying
Snow falls from the sky
The gods have dandruff, why not?
Nothing in our world can be left unaccounted for
Stories spring up to answer the unanswerable
A child asks “why”
A mother tells a tale she learned when she was young
A grown man asks “why”
The king, or the pharaoh or the emperor,
Or the emir must have a response
So he turns to his religious ministers,
Or priests or rabbis or imams
They have all the answers
In their little “black” books
No leader can sit on his or her throne
Of gold and most precious stone
And admit that he, or she, doesn’t know the answer
Like a father spinning a bedtime story,
The kin is the father of the people
The wisest, omniscient
Even the mysteries of the gods are known to him
For unlike all the other creatures of the earth,
Humans are the most curious,
The most curious creatures in the universe
So far
© 2008 Ivy Kaminsky
Month/Year: January 2008
Contest: Bird on a Wire
Contest Sponsor: Lulynne Streeter
Winner: Carol Dee Meeks, Artesia, New Mexico
Wires Slow Their Lives as They Soar
A weather vane plays host to barnyards’ owl
as silvered feathers flash disk-streak caught light
His deafness shuns the squalls on heat-veiled plains;
he oversees the yodel crowded stage.
In hoots, he flaunts his curved-nail protein claws,
conductor like, he keeps his notes in time.
His saucer-shaped eyeballs patrol the miles
and spots a mouse evade a cat’s closed eyes.
An owlet couples mothers’ space on rods
like misers’ pad, the space a skin-tight fit.
They soar to oaks where blossoms hang on lobes
and perch like statues, watch some catnap work.
© 2008 Carol Dee Meeks
Month/Year: January 2008
Contest: River and Streams
Contest Sponsor: Lulynne Streeter
Winner: Ivy Kaminsky, Houston, Texas
To the Ocean
Streams whisper along
barely covering their rock-lined bottoms
beginning and ending with the rains
leaving tiny smooth stones to mark the trail for their return
Rivers claim wide avenues across continents
through farmland, forest, desert
adorning themselves with boas of pine tree and deciduous oak
snaking through valleys where they temporarily
conceal themselves from the heat of the sun
Rivers shape their worlds
taking bits of earth with them wherever they travel
pounding the ground until it moves before them
In Alaska river calls itself "glacier"
ripping through rocky mountains
forever sculpting them remolding them
breaking them down
picking up and pushing great boulders along
on a journey to the final destination --
great watery rendezvous known as "sea"
releasing themselves reuniting with long lost friends
sharing adventures, recounting past exploits,
mixing and mingling
Ocean welcomes them all
happily sucking in their energies united
saving it for a day when she feels feisty
or in the mood for a Caribbean vacation
Maybe even a jaunt to the Texas Gulf Coast
Then she gathers her hair into a whirling homage to Medusa
heads for landfall
seeking people and buildings to play with
Sea is only toying with us she means no harm
she just doesn't know her own strength
© 2008 Ivy Kaminsky
Month/Year: January 2008
Contest: Now
Contest Sponsor: Lulynne Streeter
Winner: Penelope L. McFadin, Clear Lake Shores, Texas
What is Now?
That moment in time which all
perception springs
Where my awareness rides the crest of the wave of experience
After which is forever memory and history
Before only speculation and dream of the possible or...
Physically preordained by the laws of probability
Does Time have structure, shape
Is it molded by our experience
Or Gravity
Does duration have breadth as well as length
Are we floating on a flowing river
Or resting on an ocean
With depth and volume
Is Now a moment unique to myself
Or is it common to all of us
Are we surfing the wave front of Time
With no way off
Am I a fish on my own journey
Or a cork bobbing up and down with the waves
What is Now?
© 2008 Penelope L. McFadin
Month/Year: December 2007
Contest: On the Bus
Contest Sponsor: Mary Margaret Carlisle
Winner: Ivy Kaminsky, Houston, Texas
Traveling Blues
I spent countless hours on the bus riding to and
from school
in a place where “bussing” was never an issue
in a county where there were no blacks
no, Jews, and few Hispanics
from one part of Waspville to another
I always sat in the same place
in fear
dreading the ride
afraid to be noticed
It was on the bus that the bullies blossomed
The smallest passengers were the tastiest targets
I tried to remain motionless
invisible
silent
lest the lions should pounce and grasp my inner rabbit
by its furry throat and shake it into oblivion
One of the greatest days of my life was the one
when my brother and I finally were allowed to
take the family car to school by ourselves
The funny thing is
as an adult I love riding the bus
I sit in the same seat
I warmed as a child
Close to the front on the right side
and I keep my eyes on the eyes of the bus driver
in the rear-view mirror
Maybe I thought those eyes would rescue me
way back when
© 2007 Ivy Kaminsky
Month/Year: November 2007
Contest: The Last Leaf on the Tree
Contest Sponsor: None
Winner: William Turner, Houston, Texas
It was a Good Year
I watch winter move up the reach.
The wind is pushing the trees
And water toward the North.
The leaves fly
From the end of this chapter.
I wonder if it is a good tale.The late October poetry
Sung in multi-colors,
Yesterday a hushed voice,
Today a raspy rattling in the wind.Surely the brilliance
Displays the colored epitaphs
Through middle age fading
With this last burst of song.
The closing of this story.The tenacity of these pages
Resist the letting go until
Finally, the last leaf on the tree
Will flutter down, foxed,
To rest on a blanket of snow.© 2007 William Turner
Month/Year: October 2007
Contest: River Dogs
Contest Sponsor: Mary Margaret Carlisle
Winner: William Turner, Houston, Texas
Power Trips
The dogs are quiet again
The river, too; its Monday.
Through the week they’ll not be seen
Or heard. They sleep.
Friday night wakes them up.
There will be music and dancing,
Their owners have come from town.When the sun is high again
Over the river valley wall,
The dogs begin to growl. They race
Up and down the river
Roaring, barking and snapping
Chasing each other, threatening
Swimmers and slower craft.They smear their oily excrement
And roll the river water muddy
Against the shallows until sundown
Sunday.
When the owners go back to town
The river dogs go back to sleep.© 2007 William Turner
Month/Year: October 2007
Contest: River Dogs (Members-Only Section)
Contest Sponsor: None
Winner: Rebecca Hatcher Travis, Friendswood, Texas.
Family Life
they come from the woodlands
we invite them when they are small
tempt them with bits of meat
something raw
build a trust between usthey like living near the water
beside our homes
on this high bluff
where we can see
up and down the riverno one dares
enter our village
in the dark of night
our river dogs are always alert
for we are all one family now© 2007 Rebecca Hatcher Travis
Month/Year: September 2007
Contest: Writer's Block
Contest Sponsor: Mary Margaret Carlisle
Winner: K.B. Eckhardt, Houston, Texas
Leaves
Today, my tea leaves
are as damp and forbidding
as my writing and
my life is the life
of one who lies
saying this line or that line
writing this lie or that lie.Impossible really to see
a person’s life in the tea leaves
or coo soothing sayings
I think will satisfy the seekers
each discrete yet not so discreet
that it is clear
if they will hear
lies from tea leaves
the readers will believe
book leaves.Let your belief system and skepticism fade
and allow me to crochet
a tale or whatever
I the seer say
that we may clear
your way of all debris.
I will tell you no lies.Love will embrace you.
Indescribable fortune will drench you.
Excellent health will enfold you.© 2007 K. B. Eckhardt
Month/Year: August 2007
Contest: Beneath the Poet Lauretate's Bed
Contest Sponsor: None
Winner: Sandi Stromberg, Houston, Texas
Poetry Matters
She rummages through the box
beneath her bed, desperate
for a poem to prove she deserves
the laurel wreath hanging in her kitchen.
Among Aprils and coffee mugs,
she finds remnants of the wasteland,
vatic phrases that now sound vapid,
loved lines, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices? and
Your golden hair Margarete.In this cardboard square that once held baby cards,
diaper pins and drawings of stick figures
under curlicues of smoke, she hordes
zip-locked clichés,
mixed metaphors and their conceits,
tropes with exotic names — anaphora,
synesthesia, syllepsis,
an overabundance of iambic pentameters
marching their predictable beat,
failed sonnets about rain and
painful tremblings of villanelles.
Life rarely reveals what it will do with us,
Pasternak wrote.Words clutter like crumbs, whimsy and backdraft,
scattered among cicatrix and undertow.
All possibilities for charting her own
cartographies. And somewhere
she must have mislaid
an ars poetica, her belief in the Muse.If only she can find them before her children
sort her possessions and use the bay leaves
to flavor a delicate soup.© 2007 Sandi Stromberg
Contest: What Price Freedom?
Contest Sponsor: Mary Margaret Carlisle
Winner: Joel Ontiberoz, Houston, Texas
A Marine’s Battle
Eye lids shaped
a razor’s edgeBlack curly hair
matches pupil’s
densityQuiet complexion
of his mannerContrary to the M16
across his shoulderAllowing himself
to be exposedSent into foreign countries
Iraq Cambodia
our evilsTwo buddies taken home
in plasticMoney and politics
washed in the
same bucketProtecting a country
he chose
to protect himBeing shamed
by a vile enemyHe stands silent
in the darknessBack against the wall
wanting his M16
once moreHis metals of bravery
don’t matter nowSparkling symbols
of our country
shine no moreOne more corner
he’ll be safeRidicule from the
ignorantPounds deep in his
heartHome in the USA
and persecutedChinese American
His price to pay
for freedom© 2007 Joel Ontiberoz
Month/Year: June 2007
Contest: A Sack of Red Apples
Contest Sponsor: None
Winner: Margo Davis, Houston, Texas
Making Sense
I might not see red rocks in a sack
of apples if I misplace my glasses.
Sometimes, when I glance down, my specs
part my hair as they fly—until I catch them
in mid-air.I have great reflexes.
If someone handed me that sack,
saying, juggle these rocks, my sense
of smell would alert me to both
sweet and tart. I would juggle
apples and red rocks so deftly that
a Northern Spy would not note
the difference.Apple skin feels like no other.
I bet without looking I could separate
Mcintosh from Empire, Gala from
JonaGold. I could balance red rocks
against a crisp and juicy Paula Red
any old day.So put me to the test.
Winner keeps the Red Delicious.
© 2007 Margo Davis
Month/Year: May 2007
Contest: Roses After Winter
Contest Sponsor: Sol Magazine and Margaret Carlisle
Winner: Deseree Marie Probasco, Conroe, Texas
When it Pours
She climbs
out of the car
the sidewalk rising
to meet her feet in glistening waves.She pulls,
my daughter,
at my too-slow progress through
the field of red and blue sedans.She shrieks,
a gossamer thread above the din,
as she catches her first glimpse
of the newly-opened city water garden.Out of her sundress,
out of her shoes,
she wriggles into the sunlight
like a rose after winter.Petal pint cheeks
flush brighter over the gleam
of the water, stretching her hands
like sunflowers toward a giant blue bucket.It fills,
swinging, precarious
on its metal pin, ready to drop
a quenching rain on the garden below.Out of the sky,
out of the blue bucket, it pours
and we are showered
in brilliant drops, exhilarated by the storm.She nestles,
content under my earth brown
towel, pale head resting on my leg
a seed of contentment planted on a new spring day.© 2007 Deseree Marie Probasco
Month/Year: April 2007
Contest: It's Poetry
Contest Sponsor: Sol Magazine and Leo F. Waltz
Winner: Margo Davis, Houston, Texas
Subtext
for Columbo BobI ride the cadence of words
strung together like huff then puff
up the hill and along a tree line
he rubs against. He is bobcat
pacing the fence.He chose that field,
then built that fence to rail against.
He insists, if asked, that fate
thrust wind at his back.He traces
the origin of the long-plank deck beneath
our feet—the foundation of a fallen church—
a religion he calls caring about
one's neighbor.Each phrase a wind
chime in breeze. I get caught up by
the wind, swing, chime in.His need
to be heard proves stronger than the story
he struggles to tell. The spaces between
his words frighten him.© 2007 Margo Davis
Month/Year: March 2007
Contest: Cowboy Boots and High Heels
Contest Sponsor: Sol Magazine and Cindy Tebo
Winner: Erica Lehrer, Houston, Texas
When the Party Ends
O, how I ache when you and I dance,
knowing relief is at hand;
in my closet, 'midst blouses and pants,
there my cowboy boots stand.
Your dagger heels rise four inches in height;
my humble metatarsals can't bear
the strain as we rhumba and tango tonight.
Fashion be damned: I won't wear
stylish shoes that pinch so I wince,
stilettos that steal my smile.
Even Jimmy Choos cannot convince
me that such searing pain is worthwhile.
When the party ends and guests disperse,
I'll grab my boots, Texas two-step and curse.
© 2007 Erica Lehrer
Month/Year: February 2007
Contest: Love or Chocolate
Contest Sponsor: Mary Margaret Carlisle and Cindy Tebo
Winner: Carol Dee Meeks, Artesia, New Mexico
Summer's Life (a Kyrielle)
You are the steps that pace my spring:
my joy, my triumph, coups, all things.
You are the leaves that groom my trees,
the roses with scent that taunts the bees.You are the sun each summer day
as infant life matures our way
like mighty Oaks whose roots stretch out
and stars at night that flash about.You are the rock of earth's mined ore
that purifies our solstice door
and winter days we say adieu,
as season's springtime binds us two.Retirement years for us are blest.
Our offspring leaves an empty nest.
With forty years of summer bliss
this era life, seals passion's kiss.© 2007 Carol Dee Meeks