Posted: Wed Mar 01, 2017 5:55 pm
Many thanks to those who participated in making nominations for our IBPC submissions this month. Our selections were a little easier this month. Since we had two from Laura Ring, and we are only allowed one per poet per month, we're holding the second of her poems for consideration next month. We thank the three nominees for allowing us the pleasure of having them represent WPF in the competition.
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on March 3rd, as they appear below. If the entrants have any edits or corrections to the poems, please send them to me at mjm@wildpoetryforum.com by the morning of March 3rd. If you come upon this notice late and you have edits, please send me any edits anyway. I will try to have the submission updated before it's sent to the judge.
As a reminder, if there are no or not enough IBPC nominations in any given month from the membership, we choose from the eligible poems (those poets who gave permission) from the prior month. So, if your poem is not selected in a given month, please know that you still might have an opportunity for it to be submitted the following month.
Congratulations to our entrants and best of luck in the competition!
Love,
M
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem # 1
Title: This is How Death Comes
Author: Laura Ring
Gleaming and unapologetic in crisp fluorescence.
Flanked by a shrewdness of suits and toothsome smiles.
It comes in a cavalcade of paper, weighty pen
in a crabbed fist. In signatures terse and mean
and slanting far to the right.
It comes in legalese dressed up as reason.
It comes as a huckster with a bargain. Regrettable
necessity. A show of strength.
It slots its victims into spreadsheets
like folded chairs on a flatbed en route
to a grand fete. It’s all numbers and columns.
Capacity. Concern for security. This is how
Death comes, but it is not your death –-
it is the outstretched hand we snuff
our cigarettes out in; the boat turned
away from the harbor as the waves rise.
It comes with a swelled chest and a closed
mind. Makes its bed with the Father of Lies.
It arrives while we are otherwise occupied.
This is how Death comes: It comes with flags
and silence.
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 2
Title: Kristallnacht
Author: Peter Halpin
The razor scrapes over skin, dulled by use.
I am old school –I change blades twice a week.
We all have to live with our mistakes- miss takes.
I got it into my head that the world was flat,
that you could vote to push people off ,
just like on survivor – no recounts.
I knew it wasn’t true but was comforting,
there doesn’t always have to be a reason,
sometimes things are just untenable.
I have stopped listening to news –I don’t like it
when life is stranger than fiction. My neighbor
Ahmed has a sand barrel –I buried my head in it.
An old Jewish man at the end of our street asked:
Who are they coming for next!
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 3
Title: The Quiet Work
Author: Andrew Dufresne
A steady thrum, as though a buzz saw
Had acquired precise intelligence
Whirls through the air. There is law
And law. And there is national defense.
There is a teething baby, gumming
Real food for the first time , cries.
There’s a time bomb humming, humming
Behind the lashes of lonely eyes.
Meanwhile in that web of lies we call
Reality, the quiet work proceeds.
For better, worse, the sum of all,
The day to day, with all its needs.
The weeds, the rusting shopping cart,
Broken pen knife, clamshell Burger King,
The bleeding sparrow’s beating heart,
Of these, and only these, I sing.
-END-
_______________
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on March 3rd, as they appear below. If the entrants have any edits or corrections to the poems, please send them to me at mjm@wildpoetryforum.com by the morning of March 3rd. If you come upon this notice late and you have edits, please send me any edits anyway. I will try to have the submission updated before it's sent to the judge.
As a reminder, if there are no or not enough IBPC nominations in any given month from the membership, we choose from the eligible poems (those poets who gave permission) from the prior month. So, if your poem is not selected in a given month, please know that you still might have an opportunity for it to be submitted the following month.
Congratulations to our entrants and best of luck in the competition!
Love,
M
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poem # 1
Title: This is How Death Comes
Author: Laura Ring
Gleaming and unapologetic in crisp fluorescence.
Flanked by a shrewdness of suits and toothsome smiles.
It comes in a cavalcade of paper, weighty pen
in a crabbed fist. In signatures terse and mean
and slanting far to the right.
It comes in legalese dressed up as reason.
It comes as a huckster with a bargain. Regrettable
necessity. A show of strength.
It slots its victims into spreadsheets
like folded chairs on a flatbed en route
to a grand fete. It’s all numbers and columns.
Capacity. Concern for security. This is how
Death comes, but it is not your death –-
it is the outstretched hand we snuff
our cigarettes out in; the boat turned
away from the harbor as the waves rise.
It comes with a swelled chest and a closed
mind. Makes its bed with the Father of Lies.
It arrives while we are otherwise occupied.
This is how Death comes: It comes with flags
and silence.
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 2
Title: Kristallnacht
Author: Peter Halpin
The razor scrapes over skin, dulled by use.
I am old school –I change blades twice a week.
We all have to live with our mistakes- miss takes.
I got it into my head that the world was flat,
that you could vote to push people off ,
just like on survivor – no recounts.
I knew it wasn’t true but was comforting,
there doesn’t always have to be a reason,
sometimes things are just untenable.
I have stopped listening to news –I don’t like it
when life is stranger than fiction. My neighbor
Ahmed has a sand barrel –I buried my head in it.
An old Jewish man at the end of our street asked:
Who are they coming for next!
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 3
Title: The Quiet Work
Author: Andrew Dufresne
A steady thrum, as though a buzz saw
Had acquired precise intelligence
Whirls through the air. There is law
And law. And there is national defense.
There is a teething baby, gumming
Real food for the first time , cries.
There’s a time bomb humming, humming
Behind the lashes of lonely eyes.
Meanwhile in that web of lies we call
Reality, the quiet work proceeds.
For better, worse, the sum of all,
The day to day, with all its needs.
The weeds, the rusting shopping cart,
Broken pen knife, clamshell Burger King,
The bleeding sparrow’s beating heart,
Of these, and only these, I sing.
-END-
_______________