Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Back to the grind

Hi folks : Well its back to my regularly scheduled blogging habit . Here's this weeks poem :
shit
by Lawrence R. Berger


Sometimes
happiness is tough .
So you grab a pen
hand vomit across a page
instantly people say thanks for the poem

Here's the contest info again :



Announcing the Fifth Annual Skysaje Enterprises poetry contest.
This year we’re offering a $250.00 first prize and three $25.00 honorable mentions.
This years judges are:
Ellaraine Lockie: Multiple award wining poet, ( including our 2008 contest)
MJ Iuppa: Legendary Rochester, NY based poet and professor at St. John Fisher College.
Rick Petrie: co-host of the long running Pure Kona poetry series.
Guidelines for entry into the 2009 contest:
1. All entries must be typed in 14pts font
2. Submit up to five (5) poems per entry
3. Title of poem and author contact info must appear on each page submitted.
4. A $15.00 non-refundable entry fee must accompany all submissions.
5. All entries must be received in our offices between now and 4/30/09
Make check or money orders payable to L. Berger and mail to us at:
Skysaje Enterprises
50 Amesbury Rd.
Rochester, NY 14623
We now present the winning poem from the 2008 contest ( Ellaraine Lockie’s She reads Virginia Wolfe)
SHE READS VIRGINIA WOLF
BY Ellaraine Lokie
As she slept he'd finger-walk
all the way up her underarm
Soft, like snow falling over
the shoulder, ear , lips
Sleep melted into a pool
that he found with postage- stamp licks delivered the slow boat way until she couldn't breathe right
That was before he made appointments
with her after x-rated movies
Laid back on an island of entitlement
and measured her worth by the inches he grew
He bought handcuffs, tongue vibrator, Ben Wah balls
told her to exercise with those metal balls until they
played croquet down there
It's understood she'll use the $100 bill he leaves on the bedstead afterwards for groceries
She'll serve rice and beans twice this week though so she can buy Revlon's Raisin Rage
nail polish turn the numbness into a red purple blur brushing the keyboard late at night
Hard , like Hail hitting the bedrock
Then she waits for the recoil
it comes from fingers on the other end of the airwaves
the concussions of her life absorbed
by the longing in the distance and the science of chemistry the latent heat that liquefies his words
so they wash over her in a warm river rush Reason to keep her from filling her pockets with rocks
ã 2008First published in Main St .Rag


see you next week.

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