MM's IBPC Selections for March Competition, No poll required Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi all,

We have exactly 3 nominations this month, therefore a poll is not required.

Best of luck!



In Rion's Eye (Part I) by Lorraine M. Kanter


I see through gossamery clouds
a world of hatred's tryst,
where pixies poise to tame cruel beasts
in homelands they resist;

of voiceless thoughts and hushed unrest
upon strong backs they ride
of changelings, coasting on the wind
through places where they'll hide.

I see through gossamery clouds
a most unlikely pair,
through paradigms of unity
defrock an evil heir.

Together sprite and dragon vow
like times so long ago,
to bring civility and peace
to those they come to know.

I see through gossamery clouds
a world of moral mien…
and sit upon this star of mine
where never I’ll be seen.

It matters not that I'm alive
to see what came before --
as dawn awakes, I’ll take my leave
but never close my door.

I see through gossamery clouds
a tear in Rion’s Eye,
where flights of faith obscure my view --
I quietly glide by.

_{Author's notes:
This is part of a longer ballad/story about a fantasy world, and the actions of the primary characters. Changeling is a reference to a character of a dragon race that adopts the pixies/sprites desires to bring civility and peace to the world. Rion is the (imaginary) world they live in personified.}

Colors of Hate by Larry D. Jennings


Winds ride
long empty schoolyard swings,
shake rusty snow on un-scuffed sand.
Orange clouds still glow from strange mushrooms
as bloated worms feed; garish green.
Another sunset, purple smears to blood red;
unseen! Sky bruises' glow soon fades to night.
Gray stones now resting, time-worn smooth,
once etched to mark a species...gone!
White silence, deafening. Unheard
knell's echo's stilled
by Time's sure hand.
Black comes at last,
on unshod hooves.
The Four in One
reap war's foul crop.

Waiting for Andromeda by Linda E. Cable


How do I fathom these atoms
that have aligned to make a me
and not this toast upon my plate?

Cosmic specks, not a breath
between them, become content and color,
to compose a singularity between
my hand and the handle of a cup.

In this bowl of microcosmic soup,
I watch my body rearrange,
as if pressed for time,
anxious to disconnect
and join the incandescence
amid inconsequential worlds.

My dust desires to dance
in the dominions of Andromeda.

[Peterpan]

Good Luck to MM!

Bev

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thanks so much Bev - I too wish us all the best of luck!

~Lori