The 7th Annual Jacaranda
Poetry Contest & Festival April 20, 2013
First Place, Linda Breeden
You came to me where contentment had staked its claim.
Territorial, abiding no feral thought of longing,
it cleared the underbrush of passion and abandon
and the reedy trunks of hope that spring in my heart.
Life was ordered and I, cloistered far
from storms of desire and hungering,
heeded the advice of complacent angels
couching every thought of yearning as frivolous or vain.
So long I dwelt there, faithful to routine and solitude,
the sameness so loud, I never heard the nascent sirens of change
calling me to flight nor glimpsed your eyes
shining into every measured moment of my days.
Until, wondrous, you arrived,
sprung from universes of light and meaning,
drawn complete through the sorrow and sinew of evanescent worlds
dying on distant plains, in forgotten time.
Here at last, awakening my heart from slumber,
with the chaos of your touch –
the order of my days wheeling away
like galaxies let loose their stations.
Lover, what divine anarchy you bring
from contentment’s demise
and love’s unfolding.
Safety Harbor, FL
Second Place, Leo Thibault
In a small Nevada town
a very young man rises early
from the comfort of bed
and wife, dons a uniform
starched for duty
heads for the office.
Worker bee in his cubicled hive,
the joystick warrior mans a console
patterned after Grand Theft Auto.
His flat-screen ripples
with sweet, swaying poppies,
wedding parties, bad guys.
Seven thousand miles removed,
the dice have been rolled. A Predator
drone armed with a Hellfire missile,
leaves home, hovers silently,
obliterates the high-value target.
Then, he launches another…
Twelve hours later, laying rubber,
the warrior commutes home, cruises by
the attractive nectar of casino lights
blinking in the distance.
Honey, I’m home!
Third Place, Art Langan
I know not what travail the world may see
When I with earth converge as one in dust
The future is to me as blind can be
What is to come may not be well I trust
The earth and all its’ life seems bound to fail
But shall I care what turmoil may prevail
When in the ground I’m bound in quiet rest
Oblivious to all of life’s duress
The future is indeed a puzzlement
For those still quick and fast above the earth
But for we dozers who our lives have spent
Your travails will provide a bit of mirth
We’ll watch with heavy-lidded eyes your plight
And please forgive our giggles of delight!
Lisa Fabian, Joan Thomas, Holly Bliss, Linda Breeden, and Art Langan
I am an admit on your floor.
Antiseptic hug and a sterile kiss.
Reek the spew of Oncology.
Cancerous swells like the fattened snake’s hiss
Devours and triumphs no more.
We idly prattle to pass time
Vainly daring to revive that which dies.
Hades’ fire awaits us no longer.
Beckoning, burning and drowning wild cries,
Our mouths melt and are doused with lime.
Ghosts are born of a love that’s lost.
The mind’s dancing shadows eerily taunt
While weaving tales of fairy dust.
Emptiness fed by a fantasy’s haunt
Seeks reality as her cost.
Love’s death strangles holy Venus.
Her child executed by our decree
Exists in Olympus beyond our reach.
Our souls descended in terror now flee
To open arms of Anubis.
Land O Lakes, FL
The Eye of the Modern Day Woman
Is open wide, with a slightly hysterical look.
Lashes quiver like uncut grass along a lake,
Eyebrows arch like dark precipices where everything teeters on the edge.
Irises reflect circle after circle of cycle of sameness,
And a slight, barely discernable tic sometimes makes her jump.
Green, blue and brown eye shadow, like hills and vales,
camouflage a terrain so dangerous, like a mined march –
that only very rarely does she close both eyes, and sleep
that old contended, deep, refreshing sleep of the unliberated woman.
Ravens dance in the sky
above me. Circling one
another in a black ballet against
the heavens. Broken husks rustle
in rows across the street. The
empty eyes of a scarecrow
tries to steal their souls.
We wonder when you left us.
Was goodbye when death
gripped your heart and squeezed
until no air was left? Did you
escape between the breaths I
poured through your lips? Or
was your body a cracked shell
with the yolk running out and you
seeped away through the sheets
between machine beeps?
Now under ravens, next to
etched marble, and empty
eyes staring at broken husk
bones, my hands are
little birds flying from my lap,
trying to escape reality.
Spring Hill, FL
Pasco Arts Council
thanks all those who
participated in the 2013
Jacaranda Poetry Festival
Congratulations to our winners!
Our gratitude to our distinguished judges
Alicyn Weber and Geoff ("Rev") Beardsley