Photo by Lois Nantais
Uproar invites writers of all genres to submit their works written in consideration of our seasonal theme. Three times annually, moderators will select the best submissions and publish them here. Each spring, we will hold the Carmen Ziolkowski Poetry Prize (click here for details Carmen Ziolkowski Poetry Prize). See “About Us” for general submission criteria About
The Third Annual Carmen Ziolkowski Poetry Prize Winners
The Literary Committee of the Lawrence House Centre For The Arts is pleased to announce the winners of the third annual Carmen Ziolkowski Poetry Prize. These poems were selected by judges Ryan Gibbs and Lois Nantais, with input from Carmen’s son Jim. They are:
First Place- Katherine Weinmann,of Sherwood Park, Alberta “Contemplating The Cherry Tree.”
Second Place- Emily Fortney, of Sarnia, Ontario, “every day (a love letter from Lake Huron to us)
Third Place- Grace Vermeer, of Sarnia, Ontario “The Rain”
Honourable Mention- Mike Madill, “Soothsayer’s Familiar (after Tarot’s ‘Mother of Pentacles’)
Honourable Mention- James X Wang, “a lotus blooms at dawn”
We were most happy to have Jim’s participation in this contest and he has been delighted with the work submitted. He wrote this poem in honour of his mother and we have his permission to share it with you.
Thank you, Jim! The winning poems may be read by clicking on the thumbnails below.
I wake at dawn easing into my robe and slippers. I slip outside heeding the call of her ineffable beauty. This morning miraculous in full blossom when just a week ago her tiny, tight dark buds hid behind just opening purple leaves. Now no wind, though grey clouds allude to rain. Quietly padding on the
I am going to pour myself onto your shores dance in drips for your amusement glisten on pebble to catch your eye show you a treasure of broken things teach you persistence through smoothing rough edges remind you that constancy never has to look the same I am going to sit with you in the
All night the rain fell softly and slow, the sound on the roof, on the pond, on the fields falls on the memory, burning— but gentle the rain that quenches the night, that cleanses the ash in my mouth so that I wake to the wind in the cottonwood trees, the glittering silver-green leaves and
The doe nestles with her spotted fawn, her wise eyes stare out from the card, confident and composed, like a soothsayer’s familiar. More than tinctures and herbs, her knowing is everything earthly, grounded in Nature and the seasons. Tall grasses and cattails cloak her, bedded down while her little one rests up. Ears ever on
summer mornings dab the sun onto lapis sky peaks of pink lotus protrude from pond dimples stray paint drops suspended like floating fermata water molecules vaporize a silent migration forming mist, breath whisper— as if hearing the query a palm unfurls its digits inside squats a half-tadpole legs soggy, sensing it sees me and