Membership Information and Submission Guidelines are posted at:
http://www.sol.magazine.org/rqmts.htm
 
 

FEATURED ARTICLES Note: These links are on separate web pages and will exit you from the current edition. Poetry Works: "Simply Get Your Poems Published - A Checklist for Poets"   Workshop in a Column "Anthimeria:  Verbing Weirds Language"  Grammar Rules!: "Then Versus Than" Poetry Works: "Survival Guide to Poetry Contests"

CONTENTS of this page:

• LETTERS
• GIVING THANKS
• PINE
• I'M NEW IN TOWN - IMMIGRATION
• AUTUMN'S FALL
• CLICHÉD MUSE
• EDITOR'S CHOICE
• Staff info

LETTERS - The following letters may be lightly edited.

FROM -- TED O. BADGER:  Thanks for publishing the warning about the Poetry Sharks!  So many poets have been duped by these outfits.  (Ted Badger is editor of "Lucidity," a poetry journal.  Write to tedbadger1@yahoo.com for Submission Guidelines or subscription information.)

FROM -- CLAIBORNE S. WALSH:  Yea!  : )    <doing the happy dance>         (Claiborne won 1st place in an October competition.)

FROM -- SJ BALDOCK:  October's Clichéd Muse (Snail Mail) was delightful. "Fools fear freight; the wise insure."  So true.  So WICKEDLY true!  Barrette is a punster extraordinaire.  I'm glad you added The Clichéd Muse to the magazine and can hardly wait to see what someone comes up with for November.         (Ironically, SJ Baldock's own excellent Clichéd Muse, "Generations Recycled," was the November winner.)

FROM -- JEN GALVIN:  I love your poetry contests and hope to participate in many more this coming year. :-)

FROM -- REBECCA ROWE:  I enjoy your magazine so much!

FROM -- SHANNON RIGGS:  I must say, I have learned more from my participation at Sol than I ever learned in school.

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FIRST PLACE - Winner of a copy of "Amaze:  The Cinquain Journal."

In the Valley

Lilies,
crimson-tipped, grace
lost graves of patriots
who served in forgotten battles,
unthanked.

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX,  USA

Hunting Season

Buck snort
awakens dawn
the bow drawn tight quivers
releases, I tremble, thankful
for life.

Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA

Freedom

Thankful
to walk swaying
fields, footsteps unhindered
and to speak in uncensored words
my mind.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA

November Nocturne

Beauty
of autumn night
moon a bright golden globe.
Grateful, I raise my solemn voice
in song.

Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA

96 and Counting

On the
Third Thursday of
November, Granny gives
Thanks for mail-order teeth and minced
Turkey

Lois Lay Castiglioni Galveston, TX, USA

Prayer,
thanks to our God.
Fire burned through our home,
still left, the best part of this life...
family.

Jim Applegate, Roswell, NM, USA
COMMENTS:   The truest thing to be thankful for.  A reminder that our lives should focus on the most important things of life - the love and lives of those nearest and dearest to us.
============
Reprieve

Give thanks
For remission...
Another holiday
Spent cancer free with family
And friends.

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Appealing natural diction, with a fitting title to round out the poem.  Thanks are given both for something that exists and something that no longer exists;  it provides an interesting parallel, as well as helps underscore the valuable nature of what does exist.  Well-sketched, and meaningful in very few words.  This poem captures a sentiment that every cancer-survivor and friends of cancer-survivors can identify with.
============
Filling Grateful

The job
I love puts food
on the table and warmth
in my heart.  Somehow, "Thanks" is not
enough.

Elizabeth Barrette, Charleston, IL, USA
COMMENTS: Clever wordplay with the title.  A sentiment echoed by all who truly love their jobs, as well as a reminder that even if there are difficult days, in the end, the food is on the table and warmth is in our hearts as we sit down with family and friends.  Closing lines say it all.
============
November Renewal

Talk, talk--
the clan is here again
revelling fellowship.
I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving Day
and love.

Roberta Pipes Bowman, Fort Worth, TX
COMMENTS:  This could be every family with a wonderful warm chatter of souls to fill a home each year, "revelling friendship." Good choice of the word "clan" instead of the more standard "family" to help link present with past.
============
Contentment

Alone,
just two sharing
abbreviated feast.
Holding hands, they pray, grateful for
what is.

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Concise, true to spirit, and meaningful.  "Grateful for what is" describes what should be the hoped-for state of mind of all of us during the holiday season.  Lyrical in its simplicity.  A nice interpretation of the theme.
============
Thanks to My Muse

You give
from your heart depths
love with each beat, passion
with each tender breath on my neck.
Words fail.

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS:  This can be read two different ways - one, as a tribute to the elusive and ethereal Muse all poets and writers strive to mesh with - and two, as a tribute to the very real and very present love or inspiration in one's life.  Either way it is read, it's a wonderful tribute, truly tender and full of love.  Wonderful closing line.  Enjambment is used effectively without leaving dangling articles of speech on the ends of lines.  Nicely done!
============
Tables Turned

Turkey
smells delicious
Not a bite do I eat
on the way to the soup kitchen
Hungry

Jennifer Galvin, Stafford, VA, USA
COMMENTS:  Clever title highlights the poem.  The theme of 'giving thanks' is implied here in the contrast between the narrator and the soup kitchen.  A point we'd all do well to remember. Truly a way to put oneself in another's shoes.
============
Legacy

Children,
children from shore
to shore, decorate, eat,
chase each other laughing because
you can!

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Full of love and life, this one bounds off the page with childlike glee and joy.  Closing line - "because you can" - is somberly appropriate to an adult reader simply because we understand how precious is that ability.  Well done.
============
Navy Wife, Post-War Thanksgiving

"Come home,"
my sole prayer, and
my sailor passed unscathed
through mines and Tomahawks. Humbly:
"Thank You."

Shannon Riggs, Victoria, BC, CAN
COMMENTS:  Good use of details to illuminate the precise cause of thankfulness in this instance.  Simple, direct and heartwarming.
============
Source of Pride

My girls
studied hard to
make the school honor roll.
I am thankful for their scholastic
talents.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  A mother has almost no equal when it comes to pride and thankfulness.  This is   a wonderful tribute to the hard work of two children, and the pride a mother feels.
============
Traffic

Thank you
for letting me
cry on your soft shoulder.
If you want to run over me,
I yield.

George Stateson, Grand Prairie, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Almost pleading in its directness, this is a cry from heart to heart, and a unique form of thanks.  Nice details, and good images.
============
Thanksgiving Dinner

No one
wants to spend hours
cooking for Thanksgiving
and repeat next month. Thank God for
potluck.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem has a  funny twist on what one is thankful for and a good illustration of how that can vary widely depending on the situation.
============
God's Most Precious Gift

My child
bearing a child
a child I shall adore!
Giving thanks with a happy heart,
I soar!

Daisy Autry Worrock,  Abingdon, VA, USA
COMMENTS:  Although rhyme is not generally part of the Cinquain form, this one is appealing and has an appropriately "nursery rhyme" aesthetic.   Full of pure joy and love, this is thanks in its most delightful form.

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FIRST PLACE -  Winner of a copy of "How to Haiku," by Bruce Ross.

side of mountain
single shriveled pine
still standing

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA

pine cone
skeletons skitter in
winter winds

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

fog clearing
pine needles shine
ice slowly melts

Jim Applegate,  Roswell,  NM,  USA

red flashes on trunk
drumming flicker hollows holes
in graying pine tree

SuzAnne C. Cole, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Beautifully done Haiku.  This piece suggests a woodpecker without using the word, allowing the important interaction of the reader to supply the details.  Fine writing.  Color adds a nice sensual touch, as does the movement of the bird, and the sound adds to the moment.
===========
HONORABLE MENTION - Winner of a celestial bookmark.

needles splay
cones quake
one lone pine

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Presented here is the potential for other pine trees to be born from this one.  A hopeful Haiku moment.  Nice touch in the plurality of the pine cones and the single tree.
===========
OTHER HAIKU COMMENTED UPON BY OUR JUDGE AND/OR OUR EDITORS
===========

Game plays in forests
Tossed down from boughs overhead
Pine needle jackstraws

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  A vivid portrayal of the unexpected hazards of woodland life.  A unique comparison used in this triplet of lines.
===========

Burnt sienna leaves
Squirrels scurrying down plains
clutching nuts of pine

Aparna Belapurkar, London, EG, GBR
COMMENTS:  Evokes a wonderful world of color and life.
===========

Pine garlands
poinsetta starbursts
Christmas bells

Roberta Pipes Bowman, Fort Worth, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  An exquisite collection of holiday decorations.
===========

Twilight canopy
lost pines grow in coastal heat
blankets of needles

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This nicely done Haiku brings a lovely vision of a twilight canopy, the sultry feeling of the heat and the scent of fragrant pine.  A wonderful cornucopia for the senses.
===========

we gather around
scented pine memories wrap
years inside one day

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS: A well captured holiday verse which nearly everyone can identify with.
===========

breeze blowing
spindly pines
harp notes

Kay Earnest, Smyrna, GA, USA
COMMENTS: Part of what makes this excellent Haiku interesting is the vagueness of whether there is an actual harp being played somewhere.  Or is this the sound of the wind through the boughs?
===========

pink mittens poke
shake snow out of pinecones
for our Christmas wreath

Tanya Larson-Spahmann, Kamloops, BC, CAN
COMMENTS:  Pink, white and green offer a nostalgic homey look towards the coming season.
===========

Christmas morning
empty wrapping paper
under pale pine boughs

Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA
COMMENTS:  A universal image brought to life.  An implied connection between the boughs and the wrapping paper undoubtedly created from a tree.
===========

blinding white blanket
Christmas day snowfall covers
majestic pine trees

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  Brings a childlike wonder to this silent and stunning moment.
===========

pine needles
cover his footprints
dark forest

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
COMMENTS: There is something slightly dark, sinister and expectant lurking in the said and unsaid of this verse.  Whose footprints? Perhaps a hunter, for they are not pawprints or hoofprints.  Beautifully said.
===========

Cardinals crowd pines
Swell of red in green ocean
Bird feeders filled

Tony A. Thompson, Lufkin, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  An image many can see outside their window and others would like to.  Precisely captured.  Beautiful picture.

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NOTE TO READERS:  When these poems were judged, in order to impose a true "blind" judging, we temporarily changed the names in the titles, for in some instances a poet's name and a title were the same.  The titles here have been restored to the original.

Olivia Lin Castiglioni

May 31, 2003, Olivia Lin Castiglioni age one
Arrived in Austin, Texas
With one of the last groups approved for travel
Before adoptions were suspended
Due to the lethal Severe Acute
Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) epidemic
Raging throughout China
Upon landing she blinked in bewilderment
At strange faces, sounds and smells
Until three-year old Natalie Lin
Whispered in Chinese, "Hi baby sister
I was born in China too."
Olivia's eyes flamed in recognition
The family watched dual faces reflect joy
Someday her parents will explain
How she boarded an airplane
In Hong Kong and migrated to America
As if on the wings of a great white crane

Lois Lay Castiglioni, Galveston, TX, USA

Aparna Belapurkar

Life changed the moment I was aboard.
"You are wearing a nice mangalsutra," the airhostess says.
"It is in fashion these days," I say.  I smile a nervous smile
to my first journey in air, sent bagpacked to join husband in UK
in a country lonesome.

I ritually serve chicken tikka and all the masalas wrapped in
parcels of misunderstandings to my husband, nothing new.  He
likes me when I show servitude. I churn and turn household
chores, and earn a few British pounds.  A reticent me brings
a thali of relishes and few squabbles...they grow bigger by
the year.  I say to him, "A bindi does not go with jeans or
a skirt, and stop treating me like dirt."  I have stopped
sounding the docile woman I was supposed to be. With
a sanguine heart, I choose London over Mumbai.  I say to Aai,
"I tried to reason, but life with him is an impasse, I can no
longer live."  I write a research article for a better job after a
tedious advanced degree, and in the column of marital status
mark, "A Divorcee."

Aparna Belapurkar, Isleworth, EG, UK
COMMENTS:  Cultural references are used to create unique imagery and offer an inside glimpse of the speaker's feelings.  The individual everyday instances show the growing frustration of the speaker as she adapts to a new environment while others try to keep her from changing.  This prose first-person narrative takes the reader beyond the simple label of "immigrant." We are shown a fully-human being whose culture of origin is still very much a part of her identity.  Words like "mangalsutra," "thali" and "bindi," heighten the intensity of feeling in this poem.  Excellent diction expresses feelings of struggle in many different ways.  Natural poetic voice highlighted by an occasional alliteration and internal rhyme.   Bravo!
============
THIRD PLACE - Winner of a $10.00 electronic book gift certificate

Shannon and Sabrina Riggs

My daughter, nine and a half and panicked, asks,
"Do you have my marble? The blue marble I found in Hawaii?"
Her distress for more than a marble,
is the desperate depth of longing
the word homesick doesn't begin to convey.
"I think it's in my purse," I say, I hope, I pray.
Slowly, I extract the contents, one by one:
a Hawaii State Insurance Card with Canadian Home Address;
Business Cards with Other People's Numbers
(808's and 250's) scrawled on their backs;
an array of lipsticks ranging from At-Ease Flesh Tone
all the way to Downright Insecure Chocolate Velvet;
Loonies and Toonies consorting with GW's
like they've known each other all their lives;
Credit Cards that convert more easily than us,
US to Canada and back again.
And then, thankfully, there are the Dusty Dregs:
five keys on four key rings, all looped together;
a Hibiscus-printed rubber band; Liquid Tears in a bottle;
and a small blue marble that lately feels impossibly large.

Shannon Riggs, Victoria, BC, CAN
COMMENTS:  Superficial details are used to convey information about the speaker as well as share a deeper feeling of being overwhelmed.  The metaphor of the marble and the world hold the poem together, with small and large becoming so intertwined that it is difficult to separate one from the other.  An inside look at two travelers, mother and daughter, trying to cope with their relocation; the inventory of mother's purse draws the reader right into the scene with the daughter's anxiety effectively captured in the motif of the marble at the bottom of the purse.
============
HONORABLE MENTION

Unsuk MacInnes

So much room, the new Mrs. MacInnes thought.
Her thoughts were like shreds of sinews, long and stringy,.
and that phrase kept clinging to her.  Without mountains,
she felt exposed to the sky.  She struggled to say something
to her new family in this new language.  Too much was new,
most of all, her new soldier-husband standing beside her,
introducing her to hordes of faces.  She felt her own face
grow hot and she could not keep her lips from trembling.
"What do you think of Texas?"  "It's flat," she blurted out.
She felt her insult and blushed, but everyone laughed.
"Sure is," they said, and laughed again.
"Not everywhere, though," Roger's mother added.
"Come on into the kitchen and let's put on some coffee  --
or tea if you'd rather?"  "You have your own kitchen?"
Unsuk asked, her eyes almost round.  "Didn't you in Seoul?"
They stared at each other.  "Everything is so big here."
Unsuk looked around, letting her eyes linger on the kitchen,
there inside the house.  "It's just your average house,
but we do have a lot of room."  She smiled gently.
Unsuk knew she meant more than she had said.

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Nice contrasts are portrayed here as the protagonist seems to balance on a pivot point.  Images of flat, open, spacious yet exposed rooms are juxtaposed on the feeling of being drawn out into strands, struggling to cling to the familiar.  Well-described scene of barriers breaking down between newcomer and welcomers.  Poem is effective in its deft movement from anxiety to acceptance to affirmation.
===========
HONORABLE MENTION

Szuszana Vorig

She brushes her hair at the window watching
pigeons pecking in the park below. Beyond, no River
Danube that taught the patience of constant running,
never changing course, never traversing other terrain --
but a new river that flows with expectation.
Children chatter in idioms she has yet to learn,
in a tone unmistakably confident. Her aunt
knocks softly at the door and brings a tray with tea
and a posy to make her feel at home, but the toast
is soft and airy. Is there substance in beauty, sustenance
in a slice so easy to chew? She smiles at the familiar face
of a rose smiling back. A name is becoming
more important than fit and a standard set by fad
over need. She weighs the tweed and lays it aside
for denim. The forecast is cool and windy with sunshine
ahead. Budapest is the shadow behind her,
Chicago spreads out with bright flags waving like arms
of her aunt and uncle at the airport. The dream
turns cartwheels in a shopping mall with everything,
everything but dense, dark bread.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Alliteration and assonance are used well in this poem, without making the cadence  formal or forced.  The semi-rhetorical question in the middle of the poem works well with its double meanings. Excellent phrasings, alliteration and internal rhyme make this piece a most worthy poetic look at a newcomer's ambivalence.

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FIRST PLACE - Winner of a $25.00 electronic book gift certificate.

Grandmother Autumn

Come visit soon, it's time you do;
the weather has turned to inspire
spiced apple cider and sweet cedar
fire. Maple and plum trees remind me
of rum cakes and stories of long ago.
I eagerly watch for you to descend, fingers laden
in amethyst and rubies glimmering. Old
oaks leave golden coins in every gust
of love, and the gate swings wide.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA

Fall Flight

Long black lines vee southward.
My finger follows their flight
as they arrow across the sky
aimed at the horizon
in precise formation.
Warmth seeps slowly;
another balmy season
veers towards winter
on the flutter of wings.

Sharon Rothenfluch Cooper, Portland, OR, USA

Short Changed

Autumn
is but
an amal-
gamation
of sum-
mer and
then sud-
denly it's
Cold

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA

Leona Fall

Like an indulged child,
He enters abruptly.
Slapping our faces
with the stinging words he blows.
Rushing in and around,
swirling debris scuttling behind.
His eyes sparkle - sun and dew -
dancing through the valley,
his honesty crisps the air.

Steven W. Hull, Leona Valley, CA, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem compares autumn to an indulged child in a very apt
manner.  One can see this autumn child crisp the air.  A lot of action in the well chosen words of the poet.  Personification of fall gives this work a personal touch and connects the reader to the scene.  Images evoke mischief and playfulness, and the innocent tone is once again emphasized by the powerful and active image in the last line.
============
EDITOR'S PICK
============
Summer's Fall

There's cooling of both her body and breath,
because summer's ending pretends to be death.
Tresses fall aground and her juices regress,
disrobing herself for winter funeral dress.
With nary indication that warmth will revive,
I just can't continue, unless summer's alive.
Give me a signal, some hope you'll survive!
Hah! I used to be fooled by her living's decline.
That's till I learned to sip dandelion wine.

Warner D. Conarton, Zephyrhills, FL, USA
COMMENTS:  Described beautifully in couplet style.  A pleasure to read.
============
OTHER POEMS COMMENTED UPON BY OUR JUDGES AND/OR EDITORS
============
Leafing Time

Yellows, reds of gaudy leaves
fall in autumn's rains of glory.
I walk along with crunchy steps
and revel in these cooler hours.
Thoughts of torpid summer fade.
The year is throttling down its pace
with hints of rest and pleasant times,
renewing hope to heal old woes
and offers dreams to climb new heights.

Roberta Pipes Bowman, Fort Worth, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This piece is the result of skillful craftsmanship.  As excellent word choices lead one on a lovely walk, the poet tells us that better things are still to come.  Renewal and change is evident in every line of this solid piece.  Deliberate word choices such as "torpid" and "gaudy" add good sensuality to an already well-written work.
============
Once More

Bright in the cool, splayed halo of an ambivalent sun
drowsy oaks let slip, one by one, their copper leaves,
which  pirouette like ballerinas as they float down
to the bed of past years' moldering harvests.  A sudden
gust of wind hurls acorns to the crazy-quilt below,
where they wait for death.  Squirrel scouts reconnoitering
the debris expertly sift the compost, taking some acorns,
but saving some.  These they entomb without ceremony
into dark, cold earth, thus beginning another dance.

Lynne Craig, Terrell, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  This poem is chock-full of marvelous and varied images of fall, pulling the reader into the activity of the moment.  Lovely language!
============
Dying Season

road winding through low
rolling mountains
cast a dead-
end illusion
blood-splatter leaves
portrait of a dying
season, autumn
awaiting the cold
white shroud of winter

Betty Dobson, Halifax, NS, CAN
COMMENTS:  This piece works autumn right through to winter as the reader
follows the winding road.  Nicely stated.  Strong piece.
============
Autumn Antiquities

Ancient antiquities stand statuesque.
Silent secrets ripple through
the jewel-toned leaves that remain,
as others spiral downward
scattering confidences told under the canopy.
Years of mystery dwell deep in the roots
waiting until spring to be shared,
sprouted anew in the beautiful,
lush, green bounty of life.

Jennifer Galvin, Stafford, VA, USA
COMMENTS:  Beautiful progression throughout.  The phrase, "scattering confidences told under the canopy," is simply lovely!
============
Desert Autumn

Autumn arrives
with golden leaves that dance
on fresh cool breeze
sparkling diamonds fill big night sky.
Full harvest moon watches
from vantage point above all,
lighting the way
of nomadic tumbleweeds
across the lonely barren desert.

Jeanette Oestermyer, Roswell, NM, USA
COMMENTS:  Simple imagery reflects the sparse, yet elegant beauty of the desert in fall.  The moon lighting the way for nomadic tumbleweeds under a cold, desert sky is one of the most striking and vivid images in this poem.
============
Autumn's Womb

Modron turns color opulent,
edematous, undulant;
her gravid red earth
bears ripe fruit and seed
holds them in soiled folds
then gives way to colder days.
Her fecund dissolution nurtures
inward sleep, green regeneration,
fundal contraction, and new birth.

Kathy Paupore, Kingsford, MI, USA
COMMENTS:  Descriptive verse tells how autumn gives way to winter.
============
Autumn Wind

Autumn wind
pinks my flesh, aches my bones,
an unwelcome aide memoir
like breath on birthday candles.
My only wish,
to emerge in spring
numb to the scattered leavings
of any moments wasted
in this, another passing year.

Shannon Riggs, Victoria, BC, CAN
COMMENTS: The poet effectively uses the season as a metaphor for aging with the Autumn wind the actual active agent of this process.  "Scattered leavings" is a wonderful play on words, and hints of the fall leaves and many other things left behind.
============
Fall Leaves

Bright red, yellow and orange leaves make a whooshing sound
as the wind blows them down from the trees.
They gather in piles under trees and in rain soaked gutters.
Unsightly leaves scatter the yard, killing the grass.
Family members work relentlessly to clean up the mess.
Should they keep working or save it for another day?
Time is ticking away as the blinding sun sets low in the sky.
In a few short weeks, fall will be over and winter will arrive
and anything left will be smothered by ice and snow.

Eileen Sateriale, Bowie, MD, USA
COMMENTS:  Lovely sound in the first line.  Nicely set scene.
============
Fall Upwards

Lift up your eyes in fall
to the un-white sky, either
blue to the horizon, or by chance
greyed with gravid clouds.
Breathe that cool air.
To see and to breathe again,
when the season warns of ending,
seems not death, but rebirth,
or perhaps a new beginning.

George Stateson, Grand Prairie, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  Catchy title states the premise.  Commencement:  end or beginning.  Precise language choices.  The poet's play on "fall" plays on reader's reaction to its irony.  A nice poetic tension is achieved through this and the questioning of the deeper meanings of death and birth.  This poem is proof that "less is more."  It is what it is, without unnecessary embellishments.
============
Fall Colors

It comes riding the north wind,
Carried by the rain,
The first cold front of autumn.
It leaves most of the green in the trees,
But paints the sky a brighter blue.
While New England glories in its red and gold,
Southeast Texas glories in the cool blue
Between the burnt sepia of summer
And the gray of December.

Katherine Swarts, Houston, TX, USA
COMMENTS: Poet very effectively uses the comparison and contrast of basic colors in this poem to paint a picture of fall in the south.  This poem has a "rainbow" appeal.  Phrases such as "brighter blue" evoke images of nature painting the world in bold strokes of brilliant color.
===========
Hurricane Season

We stretch the summer in long, humid, windless days
as sweat stained, dripping, the gulf swells in possibility
a gathering of clouds, movement and circulation.
We yearn the churn of sky, cool rain but fear the storm
the heavy air and an unstoppable wall of water.
For days, life becomes isobars and charts map-pins
wind speed and that dark, evil, open eye.  Suddenly a turn
far away from us as we breathe in long, humid windless sighs
and stretch the summer just a little bit more.

James M. Thompson, Baytown, TX, USA
COMMENTS:  The longer line length and movement of this poem lends itself to the imagery, illustrating the verdant fullness yet inherently unpredictable dangerousness of a southern fall.  Beauty and tension co-exist.  A unique perspective of an atypical image of fall.
===========
Birthing Autumn

Sweetgum trees drop
barrage of balls
on reddish-yellow
leaves covering
carpet of Bermuda grass
like joy found
in the eyes of a
new grandparent;
a new cycle begins.

Tony A. Thompson, Lufkin, TX, USA
COMMENTS: The poet imaginatively connects the image of Sweetgum balls, which fall like ripe babies on the green Bermuda grass, to the joy of a grandparent at the birth of a baby.  A wonderful way to address the irony of fall endings being the beginning of new life, as the seeds of autumn are the seeds of new life.

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CLICHÉ:     It's someone else's battle
REWRITE:   Don't get involved and tattle

Generations Recycled

When in doubt, Pop sorted out
With razor strap or paddle.
We burned with lessons learned:
Don't get involved and tattle
And hate and pain perpetuate!

SJ Baldock, Lancaster, TX, USA
 

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EDITOR'S CHOICE

Grandmother Autumn

Come visit soon, it's time you do;
the weather has turned to inspire
spiced apple cider and sweet cedar
fire. Maple and plum trees remind me
of rum cakes and stories of long ago.
I eagerly watch for you to descend, fingers laden
in amethyst and rubies glimmering. Old
oaks leave golden coins in every gust
of love, and the gate swings wide.

Avonne Griffin, Greer, SC, USA
COMMENTS:  Well written, with subtle internal rhyme.  One almost expects to see grandmother sweep in, in a most buoyant style.  Assonance, consonance, and strong imagery tie together the sight, sound, and smell of fall in this joyful poem.  The final image of a gate swinging open evokes an expansive feeling of welcome and freedom.  A lovely piece.  The author makes good use of figurative language as the poem evokes a strong sense of sight, taste, and smell with words such as spiced, sweet, rum, rubies, and amethyst.  The poem ends on a strong note.

There is no immediate prize associated with a poem having been picked as Editor's Choice in a particular month, only the knowledge that our editors picked it over all the other prize winners of that month.  All Editor's Choice poems for 2003 were automatically entered in the Favorite Poem of 2003 Competition.

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