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We have the winners, it took time but, we need the time to read all the poems again. We try to be fair, by doing that, we know we are selecting from all the choices to the best of our ability. Again, selection took longer than usual, this time, caused by the hackers who just don't stop. For that reason we have to find a solution to suit our purpose. One solution is having to approve each entry before it is posted. We may try this for the 13th competiton. We will keep you posted on when we are ready for the next competition. Enjoy reading Gerry's comments below, he tells it like it is, his comments are accurate and descriptive. Also, read the "Honorable Mentions" names on the list below, they were close to winning. Last - we thank you for your patience. Many thanks to our poetry readers and judges, who spend many hours reading poems from the board, we acknowledge and appreciate their hard work during competition selection of poems. Its not an easy task.

The Dropouts’ Clan Actually wants to make me be a boy again. I cannot do this poem justice with any critique. Manoj, some part of me wants to say that you got lucky in the words you pulled down and papered; however, there is no excuse for the clear, current, concise message in this one unless you meant to write it. I do not wish to visit the current status of our times now with what you force me to do. I am better off to tell anyone reading this 1st place bit. . . that I am still reading it. . . and just shaking my head. Hats off. The Woman Within Her House There is a haunting about this piece. “Around the doorway, you wander,” There is too a communication. . . “breathe in two languages”. . . a universal, generational ‘race’ if you will. There is no doubt an acceptable thing we have to fold in front of “Remembrance is a house”. Anna kind of nailed down a portrait of the ones we think about before they are gone. Aside from the subtle-obvious message this bit of writing does, in a life committed to our elders, we are here to at best give homage to those that came before us. . . and yet. . . question them. The great part of this quiet surprise (and I call it a “quiet surprise” because if you spend as much time with this bit of writing as I did. . . you’ll get the message) is that she hit the heart of a baby boomer age whose children are now old enough to worry. Anna, you done good. It’s not too often that three opening lines command a great read to follow. . . and go figure. . . you were smart enough to keep this reader in line with that word “languages”. Wonderful! Heaven “Heaven dropped today” -- take a lesson from this my fellow poets, that is a line that gets your attention. How can one not see what Owen’s got coming to her arms? Funny thing is, although it reads “Grandma”. . . it writes young: “It flew to me with laughter dancing like playful twitters of springtime robins” “. . .Heaven’s closest stars.” And you managed to ‘round’ that off with ‘peaches’? We know your grandson will read this one. Well done Linda.

R. Manoj Mohan "The Dropouts' Clan"

Anna Yin "The Woman Within Her House"

Linda Watson Owen "Heaven "

Blueprint (for all my Girls) - Patricia Gomes Cabooses - Jon Strother Holding Area - Christy Modern Day Divorce - Leighroy Marsh Mother´s Day - Frank Joussen Only Now - Susan Tears on the Window Pane - Agnes Clarke The Still Point - George Amabile The Weir at Alrewas - Martin Bennett The Wound - David Michaelson You Never Said Goodbye - Pat St. Pierre

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R. Manoj Mohan The Dropouts' Clan We have our own Little place in the sun- Our sanctum- To share that obsolete trait Known as sensitivity. We have seminar halls For discourses on nonviolence And the power of compassion. We conduct meditations To seek cosmic connections And the flight of the spirit. We share among ourselves Encounters with the animated inanimate And the inanimate-turned animate. While the world outside Builds its own objective hell, We strive for a future paradise- A unified subjective one. The Dropouts’ Clan Meets on these pages To ruminate the remnants of humanity.

Anna Yin The Woman Within Her House Around the doorway, you wander, breathe in two languages. Remembrance is a house with front and back yards, yet you want to add more windows. Not to increase its value, nor to make it pretty, just because you live inside. The wind swings the door open, shadows float in the moonlight. Someday you may get tired and list the house for sale. But somewhere else, behind the door, whispers imitate your languages. They don't know where you have been - the rain is like a curtain, your face veiled behind.

Linda Watson Owen Heaven Heaven dropped today right smack dab into my lap. With arms, it came, as soft and round as peaches. It flew to me with laughter dancing like playful twitters of springtime robins and with eyes as bright as Heaven’s closest stars. Yes, Heaven dropped right out of the sky today and hugged me, (Imagine that!) whispering into my ear, I love you, Grandma!

All prizes are paid by The Mattia Family. We have a love of poetry. Please allow 4-6 weeks for prize awards. Lastly, we thank you for all your efforts. Join us for our next competition which will start April 15, 2009. Closing date is September 15th, 2009. On behalf of The Mattia Family - thank you.

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