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Welcome to Estate 805 in

Click the links below to read the winning poems for the contest ending August, 2005.

You'll also see photos of the top three winners, and read their biographical sketches.

Poetry Gardens of Fame Index

First Place
Second Place
Third Place
Honorable Mentions


Ann McGovern

Ann McGovern is the prize-winning author of 55 children’s books, including Stone Soup. Nearly 50 of her poems have appeared in many journals, including Confrontation, Georgetown Review, Rosebud and Passages North. She won first prize in Artella’s recent poetry contest. She lives in New York City.

Einstein's Theory

Who knows who will
step out of the fog —
Man or beast. And how many toes.

Will there be a sultry
Song drifting over the damp air.
Will I remember the words?

If I order a martini
With two olives instead
Of three, will I have more

Vodka in my glass
Or fewer olives.
Is it possible

That the stars
Do not shine
When I'm looking away.

I carry two heavy bags of groceries
In the rain, in the dark,
To an empty house. But is it empty?

As first place winner in the Poetic Idol Competition, Ann won a prize package that includes a $150.00 cash prize; an e-Chapook of her poetry (up to 20 poems), attractively created and published for her personal or commercial use; public status as Artella's Poetic Idol in Residence; a feature interview in an issue of e-Artella; guaranteed publication in an e-Artella issue; free enrollment in her choice of Artella e-courses, the Artella eBook, "Behind the Veil", her choice of any e-Artella issue, and one month FREE Artella membership. Click here for contest details.

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Janice Rose

Janice Rose is a poet, essayist, writing instructor, actress, public speaker, and former journalist. Her work has appeared in Out of The Blue…Delight Comes Into Our Lives, Venue, Concho River Review, Chicago Tribune, Global Peace…from Vision to Reality, New Texas ’95, New Texas 2001, WomenKin, FORCES, etc.

Tenth Summer

Oak Street in the South,
my tenth summer.
Hurricane Hazel has yet to come.

I am asleep in a blue-walled cocoon
of Hardy and Drew.
The slammed fist on the table startles me.
Light pierces my blackened room
like a crusading blade slid under the door.

He is home.

From their room I hear her muffled cry --
the closed mouth and teeth whimper
of a wounded deer -- my wounded mother.

A slap, a thud against the outer wall.

The fan oscillates in my room.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.

I sit up in bed, pulling my pillow and knees
tight to my chest.
Tears stream into my silent open mouth --
survival comes in the eye of the storm:
If I can hurt myself more than anyone,
then no one else can ever hurt me

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Allen Taylor

Allen Taylor spent 2005 in Iraq and resigned his commission from the Texas Army National Guard upon return in December 2005. He now lives in Pennsylvania with his wife and two grandchildren on a farm with several ducks, geese, cows, several forms of natural wildlife and a nosy dog. He has been published in several small press journals and has self-published a book of poems titled "Entering the Millennium" and a poetic-pictorial chapbook titled "Going Dutch," which focuses on a vacation to Germany with his wife. He is also the publisher of "Love and War" was written in Iraq.

Love and War

All is fair in love and war, they say;
But I am not so sure.
When love hurts it does not kill.
When she maims
She leaves a little something in tact;
Though hearts break they can mend.
Time heals all wounds
Except those of war.
When the pain subsides a scar still marks
Both the body and the soul.

The greatest battlefield is the human heart,
Moist and fallow and dry
Depending on the season.
Harvests come and go
Just as soldiers on the path,
But little is ever said of a lifetime.

Generals and privates too have their petty loves.
Warriors know the depth of loss,
The pain of wanting to be free.
Let Chalabi live, they say;
So much depends on his breath.
But Patrick Henry may die.
And no one loves his country without injury.
Betrayal begins where love and war unite
And ends when bombs start to fall.
Sometimes knowing is too late.

Give me your eyes and ears,
Lend me your broken heart.
Trade your weapon for an arsenal
Or a stainless steel vessel of love
To guard your palace of peace.
If war be like love and love be like war,
Give me love. Give me just and total love.

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Honorable Mention

Jaime Adcock

South of Slow

Spokes are blurred,
burning bright,
pedaling faster and faster
on my way.

Bright Lights, Big City beckon
but I demure,

knowing my own way lies somewhere
south of Slow.

I see you waving at me
from off in the distance.

Waving at me
from yellow gold fields of wheat,
and I know I can do anything.

Anything is possible
on the way to Slow.

So I pedal faster,
faster to Slow.
Slow back to you.

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Honorable Mention

Dawn Richerson

What the Sand Dollar Has to Say

In the sound of surf, that shared memory
which echoes endlessly for the both of us,
you strain to hear my voice, swallowed
it seems by the tidal wave that washed me
away from you and also from myself.

I am no more those carefree grains of sand
slipping through your hands, molded
into a sandcastle masterpiece. I appear
worn and thin, frail, brittle, rough
'round the edges, etched with ripples.

Look at me. Hold me and discover
who I am. You will see the smooth holes,
missing pieces you miss in the me you remember,
loved perhaps. But God, who rules the seas
in mystery, works through suffering.

Every day I feel those absent parts of me;
but they have become a compass, pointing
me always back to Source of all I am
and ever hoped to be. If you look closely
and hold me ever so gently, you'll find

The imprint of a feathered flower, fragile
petals emanating from a star-shaped center.
It is not perfect, and you must look past
the uneven surface into the soul of me
to see God's mark of beauty; nevertheless,

It's there -- majestic mark of grace, bold pattern
of purpose, proof of my belonging to eternity.
Before you go, listen to the rush of my heart's river,
forged anew from the largest hole which points
true north and sings of the sea and you.

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Honorable Mention


Leda's Advice

Let me show you the path--
there, that filament of light,

that liquid-gold guitar string
stretched across the river, twanging.

You can't hear it yet.
Just stand at the river's edge,

facing west, squinting
in the dazzle of the setting sun.

Above you, a steel bridge,
rush-hour traffic, noise.

Below, like a cool finger,
water riffles your toes.

The guitar string shimmers on the water,
as harmonics shimmer in the ear.

You close your eyes.
The sun sinks.

From behind you comes a low animal sound,
like pigeons under the girders.

Something pokes its head between your thighs,
something with a long neck,

piercing beak, and down--
something evoked

from deep within your own being,
like music from a guitar.

Then you feel muscles pulse under you,
fluid as the river, fiery as the sun,

and you are riding lightning.
When you open your eyes,

the river below you gleams
with the fire in your mind.

In your throat, the gasp of wings and wind,
the song of the earth flying.

On the far shore, beyond
traffic, bridge, river, swan,

you come to, pregnant with beauty
and the seed that becomes the sun.

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Honorable Mention

terri st. cloud

Yin Yang

it was in their opposites that they
traveled the same direction.
he walked the white.
she the black.
twisting and turning into each other's realms.
stretching their hearts past single colors
into the place of all.

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Honorable Mention

Tina M. Marks Shirley

What Life Is Not

A competition

A race

A formula of greater than or less than

A black and white movie

Questions and answers


An item on the "To Do List"

A game

A battlefield

1 + 1 = 2


An endless string of counted down days

On schedule

A collector's series

A question of "Who's Who"

A slow death

About you nor against you

Hide n Seek

Calculated in digits or zeros

Always coloring inside the lines

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Honorable Mention

Pattie Mosca

Upon Meeting

You were standing in the crowd
Your eyes were shinning
and quick like

Your hands like six-guns,
thumbs cocked in each pocket.
When I caught your eye,


The explosion in my heart was deafening.
You were grinning,
and no-one else had noticed.

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