Peace Poetry Contest Winners

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Peace is the wholeness created by right relationships with oneself, other persons, other cultures, other life, Earth, and the larger whole of which all are a part.

The Earth Charter

The 2024 Writers Alliance Peace Poetry Contest yielded fifteen terrific local poets. The theme was “Peace On and With the Earth.” The poets used the above quotation from the Earth Charter to inspire their poetry. WAG was very fortunate to collaborate with two sister organizations that support our community: the Climate Collaboratory and the River Phoenix Center for Peacebuilding (RPCP).

After submissions were collected on November 1, the assessment began. The rubric was provided by well-known local poet, Jenna Nishida. The two judges were Wendy Thornton, founder of the Writers Alliance, and Eric Estling, Managing Director and Trainer at RPCP. Scoring was done in a double-blind format. The judges did not know who the participants were as author names were removed before evaluation, and the participants did not know who the judges were. The judges’ scores of each poem were averaged and then the poems were ranked in order. If two poems received the same score, the tiebreaker was the date of submission. The earlier entry would come first. In the case of the Honorable Mentions, three people got the same score, so all three have been printed in this post.

The Writers Alliance of Gainesville proudly presents the top six poems for the 2024 Peace Poetry Contest. Congratulations!

 

FIRST PLACE

Wholeness by Debi Vance Skaff

This universal urge

this ache for Oneness

is so powerful

pulling disparate worlds

Closer and closer

Faster and faster

toward each other

For an inevitable collision

and perhaps

after the smoke clears

we will see that it wasn’t a collision after all

But a climactic merging

into Wholeness

and finally

We will know Peace

 

SECOND PLACE

Peace Is Always Here by Roberta Pearla

Peace is always here

even when you are
sad or lonely
peace is always here
in a stranger’s
smile
a human voice
when a spider
mimes
the air
where a tree’s shadow
looks like lace
at twilight
peace is always here
in the delightful sweet scent
of gardenias
and fresh new grass
during summer months
peace is always here
as we hold dear to
loved ones
as midnight stars
appear
the still-life kitchen table
invites in the years
and with the sun’s warmth
and the winter chills
peace is always here
with autumn’s new orange
leaves
and summer’s yellow
marigolds
peace is always here

even when you don’t care

 

THIRD PLACE

That Place by Shana Smith

There is ceiling in this place,
Eggshell white and cracked
A resting place for assaulted eyes
From each InstaFinstaXBook post and reel
One after another and another
Each list of do’s and don’ts:
How to rock the retinol
How to get 100 grams of protein
How to keep hydrated
How to stay young
How to freeze in place
So you won’t lose it all
Just like I’m frozen in place now
A place where
Coffee won’t pierce
Sleep won’t revive
Water won’t rehydrate
Retinol won’t smooth
Protein won’t fix.
A place
Of days past hurricanes
Days before elections
Days of conflict that stretch
To years
To generations
Dazed days
Exhausted days
Trauma days
Frozen in place
Because I won’t run
And I won’t fight
I will wait, curled in tight
Staring at the eggshell white
Until my cracking heart
Explodes
Into a million pieces of peace
And meets you
Across the expanse of broken fields
Once filled with homes
Across clear cut forests,
And half-blasted mountains
Littered with bones, rocks, and bark
Across borders and walls and languages and
Other imagined barriers and
That’s when we’ll arrive at
That place
That place where
My voice and yours
Will sing together
That place
Where this is no longer
About “self” and “other”
About “us” and “them.”
If it were, I wouldn’t have been frozen
For so long.
If it were,
Coffee would have worked.
That place
Where the ceiling cracks
So we can see just one blue sky
With the same eye.
With the same eye.
With the same eye.

 

HONORABLE MENTIONS

The Answer to the Climb by Jenny Dearinger

The turbulence of the climb,

over boulders,

across stony springs,

dodging whips from rogue branches,

worrying about snakes hidden in tall grasses,

tarantulas and scorpions in rock niches.

Bears behind bushes brimming with berries.

How long did we shuffle

through the pine straw covered floor of the forest,

smells of damp mixed with sweat,

sunlight filtering through the canopy of

Lodgepole,

Douglas, and

Ponderosa

before ascending to the sparse forest of ancient bristlecone pines.

I climbed to the top of the mountain to be awed.

Peril encountered at each footstep along the narrow trail.

The wall to my right closing in, pushing down.

Twisted ankles always a possibility as I jump from stone to stone.

Falling, always in the corner of my mind.

Knowing I will have to turn around and return the same way.

How long did I stand at the top,

wind buffeting my back,

mountains as far as I could see in front of me,

a river, mighty and fierce up close,

now a child’s crayon sketch of a worm or a snake far below.

I climbed to the top of the mountain to find wonder.

The path is rugged,

dry,

long and

steep.

Beauty is everywhere.

In the striped pebble under my shoe.

In the wildflowers hanging from inhospitable rocky crevices.

In the clouds rushing breathlessly through the deep indigo sky.

What’s at the top?

Will I find a glen surrounded by aspen,

or boulders like silent sentinels overlooking

a cliff where

Pinion pine and

juniper

grasp at rocky outcrops?

Will I be able to see for miles,

the landscape below

a hazy, shifting

pallet of watercolors?

I climbed to the top of the mountain to feel inspired.

One small slip,

one misstep away from pain

or even death.

Senses awakened,

eyes sharp,

awareness of my mortality dries my mouth,

rings in my ears.

What could possibly keep me climbing?

At the top I breathe.

I relax.

I share a secret with nature.

She shares her secrets with me.

I understand my place in that space,

In that moment as

We become one.

I climb to the top of the mountain to practice peace.

 

The Ways of Our Days by M. A. Hastings

In these days of democracy

and demagoguery conflation

what will it take to

regain peace in our nations?

What if each of us

were to

Cop an attitude

of love and gratitude

One that thinks of the

Thou’s and Thee’s

before the I’s or the Me’s

One that acts with a view

of years more than a few

when it comes to resources

that never renew

One that takes the high way

throughout those six days

when not sitting in

some sort of pew

And rather than more

rumors spew,

Repeat only

what is

good, lovely

and true

 

Outside the Safety Net by Charlotte Porter

Is truth possible without peace?

Is peace possible without truth?

asked the prisoner recently deceased

in a daybook tracing slow death

as release, a freedom through toil,

a footpath across native soil

in tug-of-war with tea-pot tsar.

Is a solitary life sentence

a safe call for an honest voice?

Or, is prison Zen a pretense? —

a madness of one disappeared,

missing from all photos, in the ice,

the Polar Wolf penal colony

north of the Arctic Circle,

where the iron never sizzles hot

for a dissident’s release.

While we languish inside, he wrote,

the beloved outside will die.

No good-byes. I soon shall lie

in accordance, undisclosed,

under a silent stone despite

ardent noise in prison yards.

Why mumble faith? Life is simpler

if the marrow takes the punches,

parts sodden seas with wooden shovels,

welcomes spring and waist-high snowdrifts

lifers clear in quilted jackets and, crazed

by cold, mutter orisons to crawl

under a toasty elephant

to regrow noses, fingers, toes

frost-bit so despots can sauna

and spoon cottage cheese with honey.

Yule logs, wreaths, gifts — what fantasies

Holiday kitsch and dear Saint Nick.

Why pretend brave Alexei Navalny is dead?

Hear the man shout from his dirt bed:

There is no golden passport,

no offshore account for bliss.

Continue to be good enough.

Avoid poisoned apparel.

World peace is not a dove.

War is not a metaphor.

 

CONCLUSION

I want to thank all of the participants and judges.

First, to the participants: I know how much courage it takes to put yourself out there. It’s a vulnerable feeling and I admire your courage. Thank you for sharing your wonderful thoughts and words.

Second, to the judges: You shared with me that it was not an easy task to determine the winner(s) of this contest because all of the poems were creative and introspective, and each author had a unique perspective on the theme of Peace On and With the Earth. Your volunteerism is much appreciated!

Peace is out there, and through the art of poetry, we are that much closer to it.

Thank you,

Jenny Dearinger, President, Writers Alliance of Gainesville

Follow Jenifer Dearinger:
An innate love for the color and action in children’s books, an elementary education degree from Florida State University, and years of teaching have led Jenny on a path to writing children’s books. She has been writing children’s books since 2018 and has self-published 11 books. Her latest book is R-R-Respect, written with Gator football player Wayne Fields. Jenny receives a lot of support from her WAG Children’s Book Writing Pod, the Creative Cronies. She is also a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Jenny is WAG’s current President and is enjoying interacting with WAG’s members. She is always happy to talk about the children’s book writing process and the importance of joining a writing community like the Writers Alliance of Gainesville.

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