Honorable Mentions in Original Composition

Summer vacation
Eight weeks of silent freedom
September scares me

~ Shannon Proctor

Got a whiff of dead skunk on the highway,
Its aroma brought tears to my eyes,
Nothing like daisies, hyacinths or roses,
More like my dog’s dirty toes-es

~ Ann M. Campbell

I think in couplets that all rhyme
but speak
in ever lasting and over chatty prose.

~ Jim Greene

Three by Matthew Morrison:

Roses are red.
Violets are purple.
Bad poetry is like
A twisted nurple.

*

Last day to be a bad poet.
Got to write the thing and show it.
Rhyme or free verse
As long as its worse.
This one is and you know it.

*

Oh, my aching head
Wanna go back to bed.
Don’t know what to write
But I try despite
My head is foggy
As I listen to a panting doggy.
A few words do come
So I jot down some.
Then the brain goes numb
And I feel so dumb.
So I just end the poem.

And the last honorable mention which one of our judges felt should be an illustrated children’s book:

Last Clown Out

Bungles was trapped on the floor under the middle back seat,

pinned beneath gigantic shoes holding average sized feet.

It was hot in the car, where the sweaty clowns did sit,

Bungles thought it smelled funny, but he did not laugh one bit.

The car circled again around the big circus ring,

plucky music played as they did their thing.

The car screeched to a stop with a honk and a shout,

at last the doors opened and they could now file out.

First Binky and Bongo were the first ones to go,

with the space they created, Bungles could now wiggle his nose.

Knuckles and Wongo went next, Wongo gave his big stupid grin,

when Scoots stepped out next, Bungles could finally breath in.

Cratchy followed Giggles, dressed as a bride and groom, newly wed,

but Bungles would not giggle while someone still sat on his head.

Pookie was dressed as a ballerina, dancing with grace,

of course, Bungles did not see this, as he could not move his face.

Rocco and Squeak leapt out and did cartwheels, the crowd enthralled at their charm,

when Muckalbee parted, Bungles at last freed his right arm.

Hugo and Winkle, Dandy and Mel,

Goopy and Taffney, Happy and Swell.

The crowd laughed at their numbers, departing their ride,

but it was never that funny, for those still trapped inside.

Bungles kept waiting for their numbers to fade,

and he contemplated his career path and the choices he’d made.

But then the seats became clearer and the air not so bad,

out waddled the fattest clown, Magoogoo the Mad.

“Better move out!” said the clown driver, putting out his cigar,

then he turned away and exited the car.

Bungles at last made his departure from that small, gloomy shroud,

and was basked in bright lights and the roar of the crowd.

He was then smacked with a pie and hit with a flower’s seltzer spray,

he felt a kick in his pants and on the ground he did lay.

Mocked, wounded and shamed, his buttocks did throb,

Bungles thought, “I think I’ll become a human cannonball. That’s a much better job.”

~ Chris Morrison