Lake Charlevoix (First Place)
by Jennifer Kurth
We walked out to the edge
where the water had created
a rippling wall of ice on the fence.
The jutting boulders, too,
had a shimmering coat of ice at their peaks.
The reflection of the sparkling sun
was sprawled onto the waves.
There was no land found
to my right or my left.
We trudged through white walks,
the snow remembering
the slightest curves of our boots.
We made our way behind the grand homes,
whose elongated windows stared
at the climbing waves.
Their yachts would float there
in the summertime--
their broads, black bows parting
the water, each boat proudly casting
its shadow onto its brother.
Alicia Ostriker's comments:
"A subtle poem of perception, imagination, and judgment,
vividly portraying a nocturnal scene, then shifting to show how
human societry with its class structure alters the picture."
Batter (Second Place)
by Hannah Geluso
Before the pitcher cranks
his arm, ticking
like a clock in school,
the pores of the batter's forehead
open up again and sweat on and on.
His light blue eyes staring out, he taps
home plate gently with his bat,
like at a wedding,
when, with a fork, you slightly
tap a wine glass.
Alicia Ostriker's comments:
This charming poem fools you by choosing a familiar yet
unexpected subject, rendering it close-up and personal,
then surprising you by its wonderfully original--and apt--
final simile."
Summers (Third Place)
by Patty Schlutt
There was a lake
where you wandered lonely
each day of your childhood, hands
buried deep in sand tide pools.
A dock spread far out onto the glassy water,
where your feet combed harmless seaweed,
where your eyes spilled over everything, ignoring
nothing. There was once
a boat where each night, you'd
call across the lake and into the sky
strangled with stars
but only your voice would answer.
Alicia Ostrikcr's comments:
"I am moved by the lucid way these words capture a child's
intensity and solitude, and how beautifully they recreate the
vista of a lost childhood world, through imagery of touch,
sight, sound."
Wake Up (Honorable Mention)
by Jessica Swanson
Swallowing up the last bit of
my dreams, my eyelids like wings
on birds open to greet the day.
I see the little bird right
on my windowsill. It twirps like
summer grasshoppers and waits
like spring lilies in winter. I sit
up and in a welcoming gesture
open its wings, and it turns around
like the hand and arm motion
that means to come along.
Alicia Ostriker's comments:
"Reading this, I feel I am still halfway in a delicate dream. Does
the bird really let the poet touch its wings and invite the poet to
join it? Perhaps."
Works by Hannah Geluso
| Batter | Poem |
Works by Jennifer Kurth
Works by Jessica Swanson
| Wake Up | Poem |
| Blue Wool Blanket | Poem |
| Haiku | Poem |