POETRY - First place poems

BUCKWHEAT - by Nolan Collins Division I

(GFWC Andrew Johnson Club, Dist. 1)

I wanted a dog for a very long time.

A birthday gift, then Buckwheat was mine.

We knew he was the one, puppy-dog eyes in the shelter.

When my sisters and I saw him, our hearts just melted.

He climbed on our heads, he climbed on our laps,

The Van's a BATHROOM?!! My dad freaked out.

Chewing the t.v. and marking the corner

Made Buckwheat's new home a little less warmer.

From the den, to the garage, to a tree house out back

He barks when he wants us to cut him some slack.

He needs some skills, let me be plain

Don't dig, don't jump, and get out of the rain!

 

MEMBER First Place - Cindy Hintz, GFWC Monday Club of Johnson City

RENEWAL

The warm caress of sunshine

On arms now bare and free,

The warbling of the joyous birds,

Buds swelling on a tree.

The humusy aroma

Of damp and fertile earth,

Now freed from winter's icy grip

And longing to give birth.

The fragile pink spring beauties

Announce a fresh new start.

Hepatica and bloodroot blooms

Bring smiles into my heart.

I feel like sap is rising

In my pulsing, throbbing veins.

I want to revel in this surge,

To throw off winter's chains.

I laugh, I sing, I whistle.

I discard all my "can't"s.

I want to jump and whirl and bound,

And join spring's vibrant dance.

 

Why I Don't Eat Veggies -by Kelly Miller, Division II (GFWC Andrew Johnson Club)

It's dinnertime again,

A time I've learned to dread,

Mom has made a feast,

Of Pot Roast and bread.

At first it seems really good,

The smell of melting butter,

And then the sound I know so well,

These words from my mother…

"Young lady, you're a growing girl,

You need to eat your greens,

Let's fill your plate full of

Carrots, corn and beans."

As my fork makes its rounds

Screams of anguish fill the air,

My vegetables don't like me either,

As I lay down my silverware

I look around the table

Did anyone hear this scene?

I really have a problem,

With talking carrots, corn and beans.

So with the uttermost respect,

These veggies I must decline.

You enjoy your many veggies,

And I'll just pass on mine.

 

HALLOWEEN NIGHT - by Rob Hunter Division III(GFWC Fontinalis Woman's Club)

Over the graveyard, a great orange orb looms

It casts eerie shadows of dark ancient tombs.

Dark, lifeless trees like skeleton fingers,

Sway in the midst of cold wind that lingers.

The sun slowly falls, like a pumpkin so grand

And it feels as though spirits once more walk the land.

The darkness approaches, it is felt in the soul

The sky in the east turns dark as pure coal.

On the western horizon, a ribbon of red

Still lingers as a sign of the daylight, now dead.

The gravestones no longer monuments of stone,

Bur mere silhouettes on which moonlight is shone.

Tonight we pay homage to our beloved deceased,

But the question remains - Do they rest in peace?

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