A Round of Applause

As Poetry Month comes to a close let's give a final round of applause to our poets who entered The Political Poet Poetry Contest this year. We hope to see them again next year.

First Place Award Melissa Fry Beasley

A Poem Of My Grandmother

Piecing together life

Pain
Joy
Smiles
Into amazing squares
Of faith and strength
Catching laughter
Binding tears
Placing them just so
Feather stitching chaos into order
Into your hoop
Go dreams of the people
Memories of family
Nations quilted into glorious hugs and well wishes
Sent across miles
Or just around the corner
Wrapped tightly
Safely shielded from the elements
Harshness of the world
History woven into each block
Every blanket containing a piece of you
Your wisdom
Reminding us who we are
Where we came from
In one of your blankets I saw chickens in a coop
Another contained startstuffs and Heaven
I've seen wedding rings
A trail across Kansas
Even the path of a drunkard
I saw the blanket of Chiefs and
One men wrap up in to see Holy things
There was even one made by your Grandmother so long ago
When she was still little
Love in each stitch
Prayer in every thread
So much magic in each creation of your beautiful hands
I found my Grandmother
Her Grandmothers
Blowing in the breeze
Soaking in the sun
As this blanket was just hanging there.
Pale and Small
She stood pale and small
Against the night sky
Silently watching behind the full skirts of her Grandmother.
She stood observing all the magic and metamorphosis she could dream of.
“The drum is like a heartbeat,
Heartbeat of the people”
She hears Grandmother telling her.
She watches
As the men become eagles
Take flight.
She sees hunters stalking
Carefully looks on
As even the grasses merrily dance.
Her heart thumps excitedly as Grandmother grabs shawl,
Heads into the circle.
Slows and turns saying, “you coming?”
She danced small and pale against the night sky
Making big circles, hand in hand.
Feeling each beat of the drum
Resonating and vibrating deep,
Down into her tiny bones.
She wondered how long a beautiful moment might last.
She wanted to dance right into tomorrow.
Dance right into next week.
Right into forever.

 

©2013 Melissa Fry Beasley

About the Author Melissa Fry Beasley

Melissa Fry Beasley is a Cherokee Artist, Activist, and Poet from Oklahoma. She is proud to have red dirt running through her veins. She is always so pleased and amazed to learn anyone reads her poems and is humbled when they like what they find there. Her blog is here: http://melissafrybeasley.wordpress.com/

Fourth Place Award David S. Pointer

Fast Riding Emily

Like a pro circuit cycle
rider, or a Cheyenne
dog soldier on a red
road Harley, I would
prowl through asphalt
eternity to find you and
when my chrome kick-
stand comes down-
abrazos y me besas
(hug and kiss me)
until the last love letter
of our coupled lives
is written alive into
our eyes, bright as
(a Valentines Card)
una tarjeta de San
Valentin from my
lips to your inner
light over a saddle
bag bottle of stars
or divine Chianti
rolling and writing
for higher ground

©2013 David S. Pointer

About the Author David S. Pointer

 

David Scott Pointer graduated from the University of Central Missouri with a B.S. in Criminal Justice and an M. A. in Sociology. He would like to thank his creative writing instructor Dr. Rose Marie Kinder for her kindness, encouragement and support. Recent anthology appearances include “Poe-It,” “Proud to Be: Writings by American Warriors,” “The Southern Poetry Anthology Volume 5: Georgia” and others. In 2012, David was asked to serve on the advisory panel at “Writing For Peace.” He would also like to thank Mrs. Carmel Mawle, President/Founder at “Writing For Peace’ for having faith and confidence in him. Moreover, David also would like to thank everyone who was involved in “The Political Poet Poetry Contest” for investing in art and keeping the dream alive.

First Place Amateur Poet Category Robert A. Wohl

BUBBLES

As kids we had great fun

blowing bubbles, then chasing
them ‘till they popped,
even blowing them in
our milk with a straw.

Pa would talk about

serious things like the
“Stock Market” bubble
and how it ‘burst’ in '29.
Then- - our “Housing” bubble.

I guess the problem is

bubbles burst, like ours
did when we were kids.
You’d think we all could
understand this by now.

©2013 Robert A. Wohl

About the Author Robert A. Wohl

Robert A. Wohl ('Bob') began writing poetry only after retirement and a move from the Northeast to the Southwest. During a long period of residing in           Las Cruces, New Mexico, he began to write and actively participated in a poetry workshop there for many years---as well as doing open 'mic' readings a number of times. His career before that spanned many years in the aerospace industry. He holds a B.A. from San Diego State University and a J.D. from The University of San Diego. He now resides in Tucson, Arizona.

Third Place Award Cronin Detzz

THE GREEN LINE

The Greeks and the Turks

a blurry mess
the thin Green Line in Cypress
Just like
The British crown and the IRA
never see their islands the same way
Just like
The question of Oswald or CIA conspiracy
who the hell knows but Kennedy
Just like
LAPD and Rodney King
Just like
All of us who go on hating

We all love

We all hate
We all bleed
And make mistakes

All I know is that I’ve had enough

of people killing
in the name of something they love
Ask Malcolm X or ML King
They were cut down, fighting
They encouraged us
To erasing the thin dividing lines
They inspired us to be color blind

©2013 Cronin Detzz

About the Author Cronin Detzz

Cronin Detzz, author of “Poetry for Our Time,” has been writing poetry, lyrics, and short stories for over 30 years. She has contributed her work for anthologies, including “Sticks and Stones” by Barry Mowles & Friends, “The Sound of Poetry,” “Nature’s Echoes,” and many others.

Born and raised in Chicago, she now resides in Las Vegas, Nevada.  She plans to continue publishing her works and collaborating with other writers.

Cronin can be contacted via social networking sights such as Facebook, or by leaving comments at WordPress, via http://cdetzz.wordpress.com.

She can also be found by an internet search under “The Crow’s Pen” or

http://cronin-detzz.blogspot.com.  Cronin welcomes your feedback, suggestions, and enjoys reading others’ poetry.

Keep writing and keep sharing!

 

Second Place Award Taunja Thomson

The Altar

 

The altar was the head

of a pin upon which

seven angels spun

singing over the din

of silence.

They saw a smaller sun

lighting their steps

over the pale sunrise

and followed.

 

Their circle broadened

and they were blinded.

each fell in a crimson freefall

from the altar, felt blood

rush for the first time.

 

Looking up at their former place

of worship, they saw it was desolate,

flat, dusty, its surface worn

by their predictable dance.

 

Now they stood on a ground

ripe with blossoms,

bees nuzzling the centers.

drooping with the weight

of their own fecundity,

the angels looked up

and perceived

a larger, closer sun.

 

©2013 Taunja Thomson

About the Author Taunja Thomson

Taunja Thomson's work has appeared in The Cincinnati Poets' Collective, The Cincinnati Poetry Review, and The Licking River Review over the last few years. She has been writing poetry for thirty years now, and her inspirations include the Beat Poets, the Imagists, Whitman, and Rumi. She lives in Cold Spring with her husband and six cats and enjoys gardening, geocaching, and reading cat mysteries.

Fifth Place Award Chad McKenzie

No Answer from the Hill

A moment’s contemplation

On the status of our nation
Whose sad administration
Leaves us lurching in decline
Such an absence of creation
And a lack of motivation
Simply reeks of hesitation
While our necks are on the line
The Donkeys keep on braying
But the Elephants aren’t swaying
And everyone’s complaining
Yet no answer from the hill
The Capitalists are paying
And the religious ones are praying
To me, it looks like playing
And I think I’ve had my fill

 

©2013 Chad McKenzie

About the Author Chad McKenzie

My name is Chad McKenzie and I am a Senior Software Developer for a family owned company near Smith Mountain Lake, Virginia. Writing was a hobby of mine throughout my childhood, however after graduating and pursuing my technical career, I didn't find much time to write. Recently this desire has resurfaced, and I appreciate the Political Poet for giving me the opportunity to display something I wrote for others to see. Thanks also to my three children; Seth, Aiden, and Linus, and to my soon to be wife Lisa, for reminding me of how much I enjoy this. Thanks!