Hello all, we just wanted to share with you the incredible pieces of work that won the Postcard Competition. Unfortunately, this post wasn’t published in May due to a technical difficulty on our side. This has only recently come to our attention, but I suppose better late than never! Enjoy!
Possession by D.J. Doyle
It’s late at night, my room is dim,
I hear a noise, is it him?
It’s late at night, shadows sway,
I see a movement, ‘Hello!’ I say,
It’s late at night, I’m not alone,
Afraid to move, I hear a moan,
It’s late at night, he’s under my bed,
Shuffling around, it’s not in my head.
He reaches out, grabs my soul,
He is now me, that was his goal.
Let’s Live Two-gether by Frank Joussen
Listening to what people say?
Learning to live like everybody else?
Leaving our dreams for another day?
Let’s live today.
Let’s love today.
We’ll label it tomorrow.
Global Peace by Frank Joussen
It is in our minds –
entropy or empathy
all over the world.
It is in our hearts –
worldwide peace or destruction
for our children.
It is in our hands –
make poverty history
or let chaos reign.
Water by Michael Brownstein
There was a river between them,
its tributaries full of the scent of blood
rotting with sulfur and bloated,
flint and mica, iron and ash–
Can fire exist within water,
can water remain river in fire?
Time by Lauren Hern
What once was old, is now new,
Old ones sleeping on the pew.
The world, it changes,
Varying its vast ranges.
What once was new, is now old,
Timeless fashions becoming bold.
A cooking apple hanging freely from branches,
Waiting one day for the blanches.
Timeless things still do exist,
Ink flowing up a wrist.
Time itself continues to move,
Freely flowing with the grove.
Truth and Lies by Keith Hoerner
She holds two swords of societal success. Her career of achievement, her marriage of love realized. Nice house, nicer car. The look men look at – even her husband. Meditative dreams on summer days under a comforter of cool breezes. Still, one regret reflects the swords’ sharp edges. Cut her caesarean style – deep as you like; take out the child she cannot carry… his son. The single thing she cannot give him. Justice, she feels, is not in the cards for her. She seeks to be satiated through gluttonous eyes. Where are her maternity clothes, the infant boy she must steal?
Flight of the Body’s Spirit by Shalom Aranas
I wiped the rest of your skin. The alabaster skin, like marble in its stillness. Your feet, last, cold as the rest of you though the aircondition is closed.
The drawer of the sidetable opens like a lolling tongue and I simply close it. Next, the pitcher moves and comes crashing on the floor.
I know, I said, I know.
I tried telling him, he needs to pull the plug. She is restless. She is all over the room crashing things, moving furniture, a spirit who wants release.
But he cannot. It would be a crime if I do it.
Dark Spring by Gina Gidaro
Escape by Gina Gidaro
