{"id":568,"date":"2020-11-17T17:12:31","date_gmt":"2020-11-17T21:12:31","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/?page_id=568"},"modified":"2023-05-20T07:46:28","modified_gmt":"2023-05-20T11:46:28","slug":"welter-55-finalists","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/contest\/welter-55-finalists\/","title":{"rendered":"Welter 55 Finalists"},"content":{"rendered":"

Welter 55 Finalists<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

Notification<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Anthony Lechner<\/span><\/p>\n

NOTIFICATION: You or someone you know has thought about paradise recently. We regret to inform you that paradise is running at full capacity and has no room for fanciful fiction. At your earliest convenience, we recommend that you speak to a philosopher, theologian, or psychiatrist regarding your condition. We wish you all the best. Paradise.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Anthony <\/b>Lechner<\/b> is a teacher, writer, artist, and philosopher, who lives in Meridian, Idaho with his wife and family.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Craigslist Ad for Our King-Size Bed\u00a0<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Jessica Dionne\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Never made! But well-worn.
\n<\/span>Black particle-board frame pain-
\n<\/span>stakingly put together over four
\n<\/span>hours and more bottles of beer,
\n<\/span>very little bickering. Well, a fair
\n<\/span>amount of bickering\u2014too many
\n<\/span>cooks and all that. Minimal damage,
\n<\/span>honey-streak on the headboard,
\n<\/span>a list of desires tucked away
\n<\/span>in the side drawers. Reason
\n<\/span>for selling: all this space.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jessica Dionne<\/b> is a poet from North Carolina and a Ph.D. student at Georgia State University.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Not Funny<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Kit Falbo<\/span><\/p>\n

Exposure therapy is the worst. The restraints only cut into me when I strain against them. Face your fears and everything will be better. That is the theory. A stupid theory, for a stupid fear, I stupidly agreed to face.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve changed my mind, you can let me out now!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Response, \u201cBring out the clowns.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kit Falbo<\/b>, \u201cmy dreams turned into words to stimulate your imagination.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

A Dream of Marriage<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Paula Bonnell<\/span><\/p>\n

A sense of order. Like light through the windows, penetrating everything. Music forming <\/span>it all, holding it together. Not with threads, but with harmony: the posture of shapes each to <\/span>each other. The weather of time changing everything, remorseless. Ourselves. And the past washing up on the changing shoreline of memory.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When Mark Jarman chose the manuscript of <\/span>Paula Bonnell’s<\/b> Airs & Voices to win a Ciardi book-publication prize from BkMk Press, she discontinued the practice of law and became a full-time writer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Covid Reflections, Early April<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Virginia Boudreau<\/span><\/p>\n

The water is sharded with ice stretched
\n<\/span>brittle, breath held and yearning.<\/span><\/p>\n

I recall standing<\/span><\/p>\n

on a green bridge, and beneath me: the amber
\n<\/span>river flowing free, a wavering fawn\u2019s silk coat.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sleek clarity, a certain languid abandon found
\n<\/span>when there was no reason to believe<\/span><\/p>\n

it wouldn\u2019t always be so.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Virginia Boudreau<\/b> has 55 plus poetry credits. This is her favorite.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Home of the Brave<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Mel Goldberg<\/span><\/p>\n

Bearded and dirty, wearing castoff clothes, Buzz and Little Joe watched boardwalk life pass by from their bench.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnother summer evening in Venice Beach.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBeats sweating in Iraq.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet it rest, will ya? It’s ancient history.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBetter if we\u2019d died.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, right. We sleepin’ under the pier again?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYep. Got a new bottle.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet’s go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mel Goldberg<\/b> has taught literature and writing in California, Illinois, Arizona, and Cambridgeshire, England. For seven years, him and his artist wife have lived and traveled in a small motor home throughout the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, where he currently resides.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Happy Birthday, Little Boy Blue<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Valerie Hodges<\/span><\/p>\n

Rose pipes blue letters across the cake. Her husband yells, \u201cMy uber\u2019s here.\u201d She doesn\u2019t answer. A door opens, then bangs shut. Rose jabs a striped candle into the icing and slides a tiny hospital bracelet over it, blinking away tears. She gets a match from the junk drawer, lights the candle and starts singing.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Valerie Hodges<\/b> is a\u00a0middle school science teacher turned writer from Philadelphia, PA.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

In the City in the Day<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Laurie Petersen<\/span><\/p>\n

The mindreading dog could tell which walkers would kick him, and trotted out of range down the sidewalk. Later, in the park, he sat by a drunk though he made the dog feel drunk, too. They shared a sandwich. They waited together for the sun to go down, so the city\u2019s second life could start.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Laurinda Lind<\/b> is getting restless in New York’s North Country.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

All Over America<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Lisa Lopez<\/span><\/p>\n

We receive another letter from Mom. Last week, she sent us one from Good Grief, Idaho. The week before that, a place called Misery Bay. Today, it\u2019s Dismal, North Carolina. Claire asks, \u201cSo Mom is still unhappy?\u201d Shrugging, I disappear into my bedroom. Claire\u2019s six and I could cry. I search maps, looking for Hope.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lisa Marie Lopez<\/b> resides in Northern California with her husband and two box turtles. She’s had short stories published in many literary journals and anthologies, including The Ocotillo Review and Blink-Ink. She loves quiet walks, baseball, and more than anything, writing in cozy little cafes at <\/span>www.facebook.com\/authorlisamariefiction<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Love<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Yong Takahashi\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My parents said there was enough love for everyone. It may have been true in theory but they didn\u2019t have the energy to expend it. My sister drank endlessly from the family well. The rest of us accepted the emptiness in our bellies because we were too proud to moisten our tongues from her spillage.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yong Takahashi<\/b> was a finalist in The Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, Southern Fried Karma Novel Contest, Gemini Magazine Short Story Contest, and Georgia Writers Association Flash Fiction Contest. She was awarded Best Pitch at the Atlanta Writers Club Conference. To learn more about Yong, visit: yctwriter.com.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

28 Days Later<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Tiffany H. White\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve seen this before many times: the miracle endures even so. <\/span>A <\/span>twitch, a tremor, a trembling quake as the quickening pulse beats faster in search of egress.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s time.<\/span><\/p>\n

I watch as egg-tooth snips, eggshell snaps, egg cracks and a bleary-eyed dragon breaks out.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Such a disappointment when you\u2019re expecting ducks.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

1963 vintage <\/span>Tiffany H. White<\/b> (LGBTQ) lives in Wales writing lies to combat lockdown dementia.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\u201cOne does not love breathing\u201d<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Tracy Thompson<\/span><\/p>\n

Harper Lee confronted the urgency of reading
\n<\/span>when aging eyes threatened to steal that ordinary treasure.
\n<\/span>Only then did she see the written word as oxygen.<\/span><\/p>\n

Story and tale,
\n<\/span>fable and memoir,
\n<\/span>poem and essay,
\n<\/span>breathe in, breathe out.<\/span><\/p>\n

The mockingbird is justice.
\n<\/span>Kansas is home.
\n<\/span>The Cheshire holds a secret.<\/span><\/p>\n

Breathe in.
\n<\/span>Breathe out.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tracy Thompson<\/b> is mom to three amazing sons, gaga to a much-loved granddaughter, a Navy vet, Yale Law grad, and current covid-tracer, who aspires to being called a writer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Rejection Letter<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Kelli Simpson<\/span><\/p>\n

Next rejection letter I get,
\n<\/span>I’m gonna answer,\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dear Sir:<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m not surprised that you find my lines
\n<\/span>unfit for publication.<\/span><\/p>\n

Rhyme and making sense both seem
\n<\/span>beneath your education.<\/span><\/p>\n

And a reading of your own work proves
\n<\/span>you’ve a little infatuation<\/span><\/p>\n

with high art
\n<\/span>that makes you look smart
\n<\/span>but leaves the heart<\/span><\/p>\n

alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kelli Simpson<\/b> is a mother and poet living in Norman, Oklahoma.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Faith<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Suzanne Verrall<\/span><\/p>\n

in the middle of a landlocked city
\n<\/span>some fellow is building a boat in his basement
\n<\/span>and though he knows it will never see water
\n<\/span>he sticks to its perfect design\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

just like that other maker up
\n<\/span>in the penthouse suite
\n<\/span>who never cuts corners despite the long hours
\n<\/span>despite the absence of heaven<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Suzanne Verrall<\/b> lives in Adelaide, Australia.<\/span> For links to her published work go to\u00a0<\/span>www.suzanneverrall.com<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The Nightingale\u2019s Song<\/strong><\/h3>\n

William Heath<\/span><\/p>\n

When we say birds
\n<\/span>find their way instinctively,
\n<\/span>what we\u2019re saying
\n<\/span>is we don\u2019t know how
\n<\/span>birds find their way.
\n<\/span>Nightingales never sing
\n<\/span>until they hear another
\n<\/span>nightingale singing,
\n<\/span>but when they do sing
\n<\/span>they know the score
\n<\/span>from start to finish,
\n<\/span>no beginner\u2019s errors.
\n<\/span>How can that be,
\n<\/span>we ask, answer
\n<\/span>it simply is.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

William Heath<\/b> lives in Frederick, Maryland and has published three books of poems, three novels, and a work of history.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Remembering How We Loved<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Catherine Edmunds<\/span><\/p>\n

These are the four ages of cat:
\n<\/span>kitten, puss, moggie, memory.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Today, the sky\u2019s aching depths
\n<\/span>insist we remember the way Miss Tabby
\n<\/span>gloried in the heat of the sun-dappled veranda,
\n<\/span>the sound of water over stones,
\n<\/span>wheelbarrows full of manure,\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

the nightingale in your throat,
\n<\/span>primroses tugging at your sleeve.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Catherine Edmunds<\/b> is an artist, musician, widely published writer, and winner of the 2020 Robert Graves Prize.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

55<\/strong><\/h3>\n

Jay Barnica<\/span><\/p>\n

Rubrics for yonder passages
\n<\/span>burst in on us with a sigh.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Not the \u201ctruth,\u201d going hot-foot,
\n<\/span>corrupting where we really were,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

transmitting immediate deliverance.
\n<\/span>Taking down testimony\u2014the presence<\/span><\/p>\n

of the departed\u2014I always hear
\n<\/span>the theoretical problem I cannot read,<\/span><\/p>\n

declared to be a whole,
\n<\/span>a slightly different response.<\/span><\/p>\n

Blam blam! What an age!<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

*This poem was composed using words and phrases that appear on page 55 in the following works published in 1965:<\/span><\/p>\n