I am featuring the winners of two literature contests.
Literally Lit: A Poetrycontest held by
First place
InspirationI imagined constellations
in the whorls of your thumb;
they spark star-dust,
embers low in my chest.
I write songs in your voice,
a baritone prayer,
sentiment caught
on the corner of your lips,
catching mine.
Out of your dust,
your amber-honey laughter,
I am led by the chin
into worlds, words,
that open my soul
like a clementine.
Every word I breathe
is a net cast wide,
attempts to cage canyons full
of the way I shiver
when you say my name.
Second place
Storied EnchantmentsOn stormy afternoons
when tears
trickle
like
rain
I wish to weave stories
that can bring
even
a glimmer
of
sunshine
from between the clouds
for anyone
who might ache
in the same way
Stories are the means
by which I know
how to touch
the hearts of others...
...to give comfort
when troubles
press down hard
and murky clouds
loom on the horizon
A smile at a tale well-told
is a triumph
against devastation--
like a warm blanket
offered for protec
Third place
In Spirationso you fill your pockets with dirt
and plant fistfuls of memories
praying that someone will shoot
but the only thing that grows
is disillusionment
so indifference keeps the lighter to the spoon
and you draw up every drop of lost souls
aching to taste the ones you had
but some deaths
are bigger than other deaths
so you're only human
and to survive you've done terrible, terrible things
unbelieving in the promises of future
but this
is not the end
All Hallows Tales 2019 by
Grand Prize :thumb816744278:
First Runner-up Poetry
Stay Away, My LadsYou all have heard the legends of the singers of the sea;
Well now believe them, lads, and heed my words if you love me.
There's evil in a woman's heart who whispers of a tryst,
And you, my blameless, lovelorn fools, are powerless to resist.
Oh, stay away! my lads, if you should ever have the notion
Of following a mermaid to the bottom of the ocean.
You all have heard the legends of the maidens of the land;
There's evil in a woman's heart who beckons from the sand.
Beware of drifting boats that hold a damsel lost in mist,
For you, my blameless, lovelorn fools, are powerless to resist.
Oh, stay away! my lads, if you should ever have the notion
Of following a human woman right out of the ocean.
Stay away, my lads, from the music of the waters.
Stay away, my lads, from the fishermen's daughters.
The moon bobbed, round and silver on the water, calm and black;
Young Isla simply had to rise and walk the well-worn track,
While Coral simply had to sing aloud, despit
First Runner-up Prose
The Door in the ForestThere is a door in the forest.
It wasn’t always there, but no one could remember when it appeared, or how. It stood among the trees as if it had sprung up from the earth, just another sapling among many. Before it appeared, the forest had been a welcome place to us. Hunting was good, and there were many good things to eat, and firewood was never lacking.
But then the door came, and not even our bravest warriors would go past the tree line any more. They returned with stories of how the woods were dark as midnight around it, even in midday. The animals had left and any wood they had brought back rotted before it could be used. Only the foolish few entered, seeking fame and glory. None ever returned.
My brother was one of those so-called fools.
Our parents begged him not to go, but once he set foot inside the tree line, they turned their backs and never spoke of him again. His things were burned, all but his traveling cloak, which I hid under my bed. No place was set for him at the
Second Runner-up Poetry
Old Sallow LaneSitting in fields of wind-sighing grain
ringed by vigils and thickets of trees
no sound comes creeping from old Sallow Lane.
In the village we all do as we please
and all are best pleased to follow the laws
and not one of us dare speak aloud our unease
not so near to Sallow Lane. But of course,
nothing threatens the peace of this place
Close to the Lane all futile panic withdraws
due to the price that we've paid for the grace
of the Thing down Sallow Lane. Praise Its eyes!
watching to see if you dare tread a pace,
down old Sallow Lane, where It lies.
Second Runner-up Prose
Do No HarmPatient 9
Where is m y breath i n g
Hands feel like clouds, that’s not right, that’s not—
The. beep. ing. is. back. and. my. eyes. too. bright.
Like fog, swim up, swim up—there are shapes above. A ceiling.
It’s a light. I can blink, dark red, then white room, then dark red… I can switch the room off.
Is someone there?
I am, but I cannot feel my me.
Asher
One of the monitor leads is loose. I adjust it, and the rhythmic beeping of the vital signs monitor ceases.
She is beginning to emerge from the sedation. I watch as her eyelids flutter, then blink. Her pupils are dilated, an effect of the sedative. The thought causes me to compulsively check the IV. All is as it should be. To my right, the tray I’ve prepared for my boss gleams under the lights. There were no specific instructions in the text I received summoning me into work, so I prepared a general assortment of cutting, grasping, an