(the judges of the 2013 Poetry Super Highway Poetry Contest)
Send us your poetry for POET OF THE WEEK consideration. Click here for submission guidelines.
Lisette Alonso has not yet mastered the art of bio writing. She is a native of south Florida who loves the warm waters of the Atlantic but hates beach sand. She spends quite a big of time fretting about her children, the future, and any combination thereof. She used to worry about the end of the world, but feels that’s been overdone. She is honored to have been invited to judge this year’s contest.
The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Lisette Alonso and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The 7-Eleven marked the corner
You were a docile prisoner,
Maybe it’s the Pisces in me
I found you suspended
In those last dreams,
Body cradled in a net,
Maggie Westland writes in prismatic perspectives: physician, scientist, woman, traveler. A lover of all things verbally musical, she especially enjoys poetry as performance. Her
poetry has been published in anthologies including If We Dance, Daybreak, and Above Us Only Sky, as well as in British and American literary magazines, both on-line and in print.
Her words can be heard on DVDs and pod-casts. In 2012 Maggie received 3rd prize in the
Poetry Super Highway contest and 1st place in the City of Ventura’s Art Tales ekphrastic poetry competition. A featured reader at various venues in Southern California, Maggie can also be found on You-Tube. Google Maggie Westland to find more of her poems or check her website at www.maggiewestland.com
The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Maggie Westland and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Were houses small or trees more tall
Beside the roof outside my room
I climbed through window frame to top
My own sweet pick of ripe ripe fruit
The best of eating free to raid
Mrs. Eifler paid me well
My job to pick the cheery fruit
Bow legged, yet both lithe and quick
tart jewels gathered from the crown
I took her challenge every June
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire, and teaches at Keene State College. His most recent books of poetry are City of Palms and June Snow Dance, both 2012. He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell’s Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in many journals, including Massachusetts Review, Atlanta Review, Notre Dame Review, The Alembic, New England Quarterly, Worcester Review, Harvard Review, Modern Philology, Antioch Review, and Natural Bridge.
The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by William Doreski and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Water seeps in the north corner,
handled the mess, but now the flood
lets it pool. Wet-dry vacuum,
to the furthest reach of the yard.
defers the worst for a week or two,
telegraphy. I can’t read it,
the sizzle of the pan will ward off
Maybe it won’t. Maybe the dark
and drape their carcasses over me
until the chortle of the sump pump
still evolves, dividing cells
My painting of you sprawled naked
Still, the judges knew it was you
Of course your ghost is unclothed.
Every time I pass this tree