October
15, 1991
-
Patricia Wooding, Surrey, British Columbia, The
Miller (displayed below)
-
Janice Hodgkinson, Surrey,
British Columbia, Awakening (displayed below)
-
John Dyne, Cayley, Alberta, Child Eternal
-
Dr. Glen D. Wheeler, Vancouver, British Columbia,
Tache Promenade.
Honourable Mentions: None.
FIRST PLACE POEM
The Miller
By Patricia Wooding
Surrey, British Columbia
In the cool of the evening, when
all was quite still.
The old wheel was turning; grinding corn in the
mill.
The old man was tired, his energy spent.
He called to his old dog and inside they went.
The room that they entered had
a flickering light.
From the fire lit earlier for the chill of the
night.
The old man sat wearily in an old rocking chair.
The dog sniffed around, and then sat down with
care.
The clock that sat ticking on the
old mantle shelf.
Was bought in the village by the old man himself.
On a day filled with sunshine, laughter, and love.
When he and his wife had lived hand-in-glove.
Those kind eyes of blue were now
closed forever.
Broken the promise that she would leave him never.
She died on a day filled with clouds and rain.
A tear on his cheek as he remembers her pain.
He rose from his chair his back
tired and bent,
Stroked the old dog, and to the kitchen he went.
He took some cheese, bread, and a pear.
A large jug of milk, then returned to his chair.
He sat and ate slowly, his thoughts
far away.
Recalling his happiness on that bright summe day.
Jug fell from his hand; the light from his eyes.
On a soft summer evening, an old man dies.
The old wheel kept turning, grinding
corn in the mill.
In the old farmhouse all was quite still.
The sun set, dipping out of sight.
A lonely howl rang out through the night.
Copyright
(c) 2004 for the author, all rights reserved.
SECOND PLACE
POEM
Awakening
By Janice Hodgkinson
Surrey, British Columbia
The early light
splayed
across the nubby heirloom spread
you bought for me…
It wasn't really your style.
I knew that.
I did not know
that you would be
Gone
from under it when I woke today.
Were your many gifts meant to please
Me:
Or were they yours to satisfy
You?…
To fill the void
you knew you would leave behind
Or meant to comfort my heart, feeling
Sliced by a knife?
The gifts you
Gave
were never what
You thought I should want.
These things are cold.
Tomorrow
I'll pack them
to send to you…
so that you can
have part of me –
the part of me that
You wanted me to be.
Copyright
(c) 2004 for the author, all rights reserved.
