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Welcome to Garden 0507 in

Click the links below to read the winning poems for May/June, 2007.

Poetry Gardens of Fame Index

First Place
Second Place
Third Place
Fourth Place


Kelly Athena Richards

The Hearth
by Kelly Athena Richards

    Our coupling feels like
        a soft faded pair of jeans
            a favorite Beatles song
                a cup of soup on a cold day
                    a fire in the hearth
                        keeping the room warm

    Why should I settle for this
         when I could wear a flowing new wardrobe
            hear brand new songs
                taste exotic flavors
                    feel the blazing wildfire of new passion
                        burning beyond the restrictive bounds
                            of this rational little world of ours

    But how long would it take the wildfire
    to burn out and fade away into smoke
    leaving spindly seedlings trying to poke up
through the ashes of the bare forest floor
    which had been thick and green
    for such a long time

    I remember we were a wildfire once
    before the snoring, burping, clothes-on-the-floor,
    dishes-in-the-sink, toilet-seat-left-up familiarity took over

    I think I'll throw some new logs
    on the fire to keep the hearth burning bright
    Then we'll sit back in twin recliners
    hold hands
        sip hot tea
             watch an old movie
                and laugh

    I haven't settled-

        I've settled in.

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Silver Bells
by Sonja Smolec

I am sending you
box made of rainbow's light
in the shape of my heart
and inside you will find dried freesia flowers,
a barefoot gypsy girl
with silver bells at her ankles
a piece of silk cloth, flowery designed
(to dress her, or maybe not)
a pebble from the crystal pond
and one blade of grass from its shore.
A tambourine for merry music,
and my voice to sing to you.
My palms to feed you honey and wine,
fresh baked bread and pieces of cheese,
one apple and two oranges.
Red lipstick to write a poem for you on the cloud,
my kiss scenting of mint,
butterflies to build you a waterfall of love,
a garden full of pansies and lilacs,
violets and wild strawberries,
necklaces of dew
and a dove with her soft amorous coo.
And a lock of my hair,
tied with our dreams.

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Feel Again
by VIctoria Luwisch

The wind shoots through the dark and shady alleys of my mind.
it blows my silken skirt up in a flutter around my thighs.
My skin wrinkles in this shrill breeze and my bones shelter each other.
My toes lie limp just barely below the cool blades of stiff, green grass.

The brush begins to swish and writhe like the folds of a ratty grass skirt.
The water swirls and pools above slippery pockets of rich, heavy dirt.
The light gleams like a sunburst in my eyes, just as on the blade of the hunter's knife.
This warmth engulfs my veins, boiling my blood like a wild torrent of anger.

For now I am entombed in this earthen bed. Go ahead and toss your
Pearly buds upon my shallow grave atop this ancient hill.
ast your prancing shadows down to smother what's left of my wanton spirit.
The weight of your presence is heavy on this fragile box, on this lonely soul.

Sensing you once more brings about a violent rush of thoughts.
Remembering the days when natural fingers raked waves across the pond.
Times when the trees unfurled their leafy tongues to suck rays from the aging sun.
The moments when the music drifted lazily, softly through my fervent ears.
The seconds when I held back my swelling breath and let your heart pound for mine.

If only I could feel again, to wince at the prick of a needle or an empty kiss.
Whirling in the rain and dancing with the crazed and bursting bolts of a lightening storm.
Looping grainy yarn around my fickle fingers and sweetly knitting life together.
Building towering, sinking castles in the misty, sandy, breaking haze of morning.

But, I'm here in this euphoric bliss,
wallowing in this endless cycle of burdened thought.
I should have seen it coming, charging at me like the wind, when I felt your cold embraces.
Your calculated words, salty whispers riddled with hollow abandoned sentiments.

You had me down; I fell like a tattered feather. And down I shall stay, entangled in these roots.

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Hidden World
by Sarah Yang

It's real.
Or is it?
It can come alive.
Or can it?
It opens an untouched world, and I can feel it.
It breathes, Woo, woo.
And speaks, Come, come.
And I open it, I unveil the hidden world.
And it's sensational.
Secrets and romance and more...It's all inside begging to be discovered.

I put it aside, but it can't just abide there.
Or can it?
It calls quietly, Come, come.
So I pick it up.
And it beckons once more, There's more...I'm curious, What more is there?
You'll see what more there is if you come with me.
I can't avert my attention.
Adrenaline escalating, I hastily open it,
I expose the hidden world, and it's astounding: Mysteries, gore, liberty;
I've opened up the door that has been keeping this world concealed.

Princes, queens, realms, dragons, lost love!
A redolence of spring, light and gay, wriggles through the pages to find its
way to radiate its aroma as I turn a page.
An overcast, vague landscape clouds my vision as an elaborate sketch of a
falling kingdom hovers above a page.
I stop to stare as a boy reaches out, offering me a slice of cake.
I gladly accept, and then he is gone, but the taste of the cake lingers on
my tongue; creamy, sweet, strawberry.
I turn faster and faster, page by page.
Briefly flipping by each page, I catch only glimpses:
Jaunty music, festivals, laughter, new found inventions.
Faster and faster I turn the pages.
The pages are now luminous, like an insatiable fire.

Finally, I cease.
It ends.
The merry laughter, the happy children-all gone, all gone.
But then I really listen, I listen to my heart.
It's just begun.

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