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2012 (Third Annual) Poetry Contest Winners

1st Place Winner

Grammy's Little Boy - Marsha Cheesman

Hello Little Logan,
Did you sleep well?
Did you dream of the angels?
Grammy won't tell.
Did you wake with the birdies?
Did you hear how they sing?
Do you know how much love
To your parents you bring?
Does your day start with Mommy?
She does love you so,
You're precious and sweet
From your head to your toes.
Do you wonder what treasures
In life you will find?
A sailboat? A pony?
A person who's kind?
Will you follow your heart?
Will you listen to God?
Do you know that your life
Will go fast as a nod?
So have peace, my sweet grandson,
The world waits for you,
For God's plan is in motion
In all that you do.
Now sleep well, little birdie,
Hear my whispers of love
To you and your mommy
My two precious doves.

2nd Place Winner

As Silence Follows Rain - Kay A. McNaul

As silence follows rain
colors bend to earth and fade.
One minute follows the last one gone
one hour becomes the fleeting shadow
upon the clock displayed.
One sunrise wakes the newborn dawn
and bows down to the day,
as day when done, must also bow
to twilight's setting sun.
Months live and die as numbered years
that all too quickly pass,
one second holds a single breath
that is the very last.
One day I'll be the silence
that waits beyond the rain
and finally follow Heaven's path
and be with you again.

3rd Place Winner

The Gull - Rowan Kempf

Born of ocean spray and whistling wind
Above yon jutting cliffs, 'neath clouds of gray
Doth fly the silvery gull, she dips and bends
And streams like a shot through screams
Of chilling fray
Below the wand'ring gull, atop yon bluffs
Doth lie a man, a hermit, beard and all
Recumbent, propped with hand on cheek, he looks
With wond'ring eyes upon the bird
That calls
The man doth watch the seabird in its plight
Against the stormy veils and whipping gales
Could there be no match more last than hers?
Yet still she climbs to plunge once more,
But why?
Perhaps, the hermit thinks, her love hath gone
And means to spend a wicked night in strife
Alone and free, how frighten'd she must be,
Or she may be fighting
Just to fight
And then, the gull doth fall one final time
The bearded man sits up and looks beyond
The turbid skies begin to clear, and rest
Doth the storm in its
Fickle air.