1st Place Winner in Poetry: “Zombie”
Zombie By H.R. Zeio Raw rubbed knees, razor wire carpet fiber Flashing fisted hair, bared teeth bitten apple cheek Scalp Scrubbed pleas, throat on fire (‘M not a Survivor!) Collapsing wishes (SCARED), spare me! wit will help me sneak AWAY!! The knives of dancing lives scar so deep inside, too hard to not hide Emergence comes with the setting of many funs And, Then I Am Done. Look, there A way. Iron hot strike, tock and ticked waste Steel fraught fight, -SHOCK- wind, your burned face Turn around in case! The danger still beats, Thus the stronger stranger within Holds an unfinished feat Masculinity crimping in the heat Don’t cry, finish the soul-releasing sin Muscle finity, control the dying meat An ultimate domestic win Congealing anger pooled around my feet The relaxing ...
August 13, 20122nd Place Winner in Poetry: “Unbeaten”
Unbeaten By Cathy Bryant You can never beat her now, the woman who was the wide-eyed, silent child beaten in so many ways. After much bleeding and pain she healed enough to scar; scar tissue is hard, strong. Yet she has come further, learned to open again to be soft at times; like the fragile blooms of plants that broke through concrete to grow, tiny, sweet miracles for the eye to learn. The regaining of a self vulnerable enough to open up to love, to caring, to possible hurt, is her greatest gift, her prize for the effort she made when her abusers thought the light had died in her eyes, that they had beaten her in all ways. She stands straight, complete, in a life and a ...
August 13, 20123rd Place Winner in Poetry: “Dancing for Exercise”
Dancing for Exercise By Barbara Loyd When my parents divorced our move ended my tap and ballet dance classes; now, decades later, a new opportunity to dance at the YMCA has rekindled my passion. Offerings such as tap, ballet, belly and Latin Dance tantalized me. It became hard to choose, so I signed up for all classes. For four days a week I perform tap routines, plies, hip thrusts and Sambas with lively groups of women, some older, most younger. We give it our all, fascinated to see our progress move from awkward to graceful after a few weeks. I cannot keep my feet or hips still once the music starts. Now, the rhythm in my soles finds expression. Others like to exercise using machines, ...
August 13, 2012The Plucky, Lucky Grasshopper
The Plucky, Lucky Grasshopper By Lucy Redding On a summer’s drive down ’95, A hitchhiker took his place. He was browny-green and barely seen, Till noticed by keen-eyed Grace. A little grasshopper, just one inch long, Apparently wanted to come along, As we drove to town from country. He must have thought he was running late – Perhaps for dinner, perhaps for date – So as we zoomed down the interstate, He managed to cling to the window. Grace and I were safe inside, But much more daring, he chose to ride Outside, on the window. How did he do it? We started to wonder, For surely ...
February 28, 2012The Tempest
The Tempest By Jayanthi Manoj On the wet sands of an unknown island draped with strange sights, I sit beside my ruined ship and I write, “My Master! I adore you! You made me survive The Tempest.” A few minutes back under the turbid sky, I captained a deck with pride. A ship with fortunes for life sealed with my ego, gallantly rode over the tamed waves. I floated in a mood of arrogance and clinched on my closest pride, gently sailed on the feathery waves. The sound of destitute were queer, my pathetic pride perched on my peacock peak, hailed haughty smiles across infirmities. I jeered the poor, derided the low as I passed small ferries ...
January 10, 2012Something Predictable
By Simon Diamond Cramer Dawn breaks and drives an airplane-shaped wedge between us, tears us lip from lip and hand from hand, and I think we could have had more two more one more minutes seconds even would have been enough And when I find my flight’s delayed it’s time we could have used the extra minutes breaking into scanty hours we’d grasp and spin into new days and weeks together in our minds and then watch slip away just an hour just a minute just a second more just more it would have been enough it would have No. It would never be enough. We knew what we were getting into, saw the ticking clock before the very start, knew it would have to end like this and so I sit and ...
November 12, 2011Armor
Armor by Gila Heller raw onions attended my father's funeral they sat in the back of the sanctuary and listened with bulbous ears to the eulogies by then I was accustomed to the stinging pain of onion eyes but I had never known the bitter aftertaste of death I started cooking because I loved food because my mother was always too tired to cook because I didn't want to live on casseroles made by well-meaning family I started cooking because the drugs that prolonged my father's life also had some nasty side effects and for weeks he couldn't swallow I started cooking because my father had loved food because I imagined that he had forgotten what it felt like to chew dinner instead of ...
October 4, 2011Pain Bleeds Joy
Pain Bleeds Joy BY: Alyssa Atara Chouake A sound once was heard Along a bubbling stream An Antiphony of gurgling and sputtering A Bel Canto of burbling and frothing Not so much as Agraphia, but sorry to behold A babbling brook so wheezy Such a sound was heard By a kindly passerby Who took out a cough drop And plucked it into the river Staining the marble softness With red Antitoxin, with sticky antitussive A wheezy flowing voice now silenced mid-complaint By one with good intentions A babbling brook to silent lake And seeing the cause of his heartfelt actions A passerby heard nothing Who thought without reflection At least no more coughing
September 23, 20112011 Watch Me Bounce Contest Results
Watch Me Bounce is pleased to announce the winners for our debut "Resilience" Writing Contest. We received scores of submissions from around the world, and were introduced to many passionate writers with important stories to tell. Below you'll find our picks for first place fiction story, first place true life story and first place poem. Accompanying each winner is a Critique conducted by the Editors of Watch Me Bounce and the contest judges. We congratulate the three winners and thank all the writers for submitting. There were many entrants with great stories to share but unfortunately we could pick only one winner for each category. Contest Judges: Linda Penhall (Fiction, True Stories); ...
September 4, 2011Poetry Winner: The Broken House by Neni Iryani
The Broken House By Neni Iryani Raspy whisper of wind is still rumbling through a house fallen into a ruin one night storm made it rubble-- salient proof of fall. I now rare to know if resiliency will rummage the broken house!
September 4, 2011