Winning entry from Liz Minette

A Poem for A Possible Buddha

Calling

Sometimes I am

the dog walker

of the brindle boxer

named Nikolai,

whose heart shines

through his eyes.

So, I am mindful

of this animal,

as we cross

the busy street

into the park.

I gently rein

in the rope,

curl its slack

like one step,

one thought and

ask Nik to heel

which he does

with a sigh.

We look both ways

then enter the

winding footpath.

As I unravel the lead,

Nik leaps ahead and then

side to side - he wants

a million smells at once.

We are just two more,

dog and I, on this trail

shared with bicyclist,

jogger, other people

out with their pets -

what about the couple,

pierced noses and lips,

with the albino ferret

on a leash?

There will be others

to follow, all of us,

that are right now

headed for home,

or on our way

to someplace else.

Winning entry from Diana Pothast

The Search

The man walked to the water's edge

as the ground crunched and creaked.

The bitter cold took nips and bites

of cheeks and finger tips.

Rocks glistened with a band of ice...

edges lacey and fine....

The water gushed by, and around

the frozen winter ground.

He knew the spot where he would find

the treasure hidden deep,

a spring fed pond

meandering from a creek.

The sound of water pushing past

all obstacles in its way...

was more than enough to qualify

as the treasure of the day.

Diana Pothast

Winning entry from Anna Cook

Seek purity in unity

With freedom of thought

For drifters and dreamers

Will wander about,

All concepts have value

And no lesson is free

Several options surround us,

Selection is key!

Anna G. Cook

Winning entry from Eleanor Lerman

Cambodia

There is nowhere to begin but in metaphor:

the temples are as ancient as the fields of heaven,

the dead will be as numerous as the cobra’s coils

Thus may we understand our journey through Cambodia,

which is a dream, a luminosity, a message

buried beneath a heap of bones

In the market, there is a Frenchwoman buying a songbird

and we must remember that she is not at fault: she represents

only a sojourn in a distant latitude—only a woman in sandals

and a summer dress. Walking through the heat of August,

along a flowery road she sees pythons at her feet and dragons

in the sky. But she can tell us nothing, she is not the colonizer

though her presence on the road is, itself, a metaphor:

the blossoms are the pathway, the pathway is the Mekong,

and the Mekong is the infinite, which she is walking towards

Then there is the tiger and the lake, the lake,

the mountain and the stone. They represent mythology

and the power of mythology to redeem the natural world

which is, itself, the message, and the message is a metaphor

for tigers prowling in the darkness, for sacred lakes and

sacred mountains, for a stone that has been lodged

at the center of the universe, a stone that can be moved

Which is nature of Cambodia: to be the instrument of

incremental movement, the churn, the mill, the mind that

turns the sky’s machinery. Which is, itself, a metaphor.

that represents a woman in a market who buys a songbird,

who feeds it seeds and honey to restore to us our privilege

to live the days of jade, to cross the bridge of milky stars,

to turn our backs against the thin ghosts who will flee

the suffering country, to survive the coming war

Eleanor Lerman