CONGRATULATIONS TO THE 2018 FACEBOOK CONTEST WINNERS!!!
Thank you to everyone that submitted to Brightly Press's Facebook Poetry Contest!
Out of 404 submissions and 1,212 poems, the following poets and poems have won our Fall Facebook Poetry Contest. There were so many wonderful contributions that we decided to add ten honorable mentions, thank you for your work and participation!
Note: The poems are at the bottom of the winners annoucement.
1ST PLACE - Goes to Diana Khong for her poems “i was never ophelia,” “womaning,” and “mango face." Prize awarded $100 and a copy of Shake The Tree.
2ND PLACE - Goes to Evan Guilford-Blake for his poems “...from acorns grow —For Raymond Carver" and "In Reply to a Message from Barbara." Prize awarded $50 and a copy of Shake The Tree.
3RD PLACE - Goes to Pd lyons for the poem “Morgan Knows." Prize awarded $50 and a copy of Shake The Tree.
Honorable Mentions (Listed in no particular order)
Austin Anderson for his poem “To know something: heft it—“
Bernadette Geyer for her poem “Cucumber”
Jim Landwehr for his poem “Son”
Madhu Kailas for her poem “Blue”
Laura Grace Weldon for her poem “Driving Through Fog”
Lana Bella for her poem “DEAR SUKI: LETTER O FOR OMNIA (LABOR OMNIA VINCIT-PREPARED FOR ALL THINGS)”
Carey Ford Compton for her poems “Submechanophobia” and “Portrait With Smoke”
Juliet Cook for her poems “Cicadas often trample each other”
David Lynch for his poem “Wicked Purification”
Robert Walicki for his poem “I Want To Write A Poem”
If you did not receive recognition in our contest please keep submitting to poetry contests. You’re all fabulous! What constitutes as “good poetry” is subjective. Thank you for your submissions!
1ST PLACE - $100 PRIZE & A COPY OF SHAKE THE TREE – Diana Khong
i was never ophelia
when he smokes all i can smell are
third degree burns. i swirl / arms / legs /
cylinders. red and blue — how the night
flashes in vertigo as the floorboards dip
imagine longing. the taste is something
wrong. a cicada hum in a briar, rawed,
to splint you open. his bed is a mortuary.
my hands are artificial. skin is hollow /
hollow / hollow against that grain, still,
i walk backwards into the night — us
girls strung together like garden lights.
when it rains fists splatter on concrete,
and i pretend it means something. it
never does. sometimes i connect the
ingrowns on the base of my neck like
braille, try to understand the shitshow
of my body, verbatim, how it speaks
in crop circles. sometimes, i imagine
him reading her sexts in my voice,
and a tide closes up my throat.
but it is okay. there are worse
ways to drown.
i was born between two halves of bread, butter-sugar coated. / hereditary. / golden legs / arms / face. / at midnight / the moon is always spilled coconut milk. / my mom dips her spoon in & we gorge by night. / our teeth rot. / this is also hereditary. / i have not talked to my grandma in ten years. / she hand-stitched the seams of my faces / in red / yellow yarn / leaving tears for me to breathe. / now she lines a casket / marbled. / i think her hands are cold. / toothless, / we identified her by the crosshatch of her veins / & mom cried so hard her face ran dry. / we stopped outside of a shell station on i-95 / stuck a gas pump down her throat. / she says she can feel again, / but her irises are like runny yolks / drawing small pools in her face. / next week our neighbors come / bearing lasagna / j daniels / & men in silver swim trunks / treading against the moon. / this is grieving; yes / it is.
a week ago jin shot herself
in the head so i made a
bedroom altar stacked to the
ceiling stains with 99 cent fruits.
today, my room smells like rotten
mango & i wear it on my clothes
as funeral rite. my hands like
little rinds, tissue flecking
off around the calluses. i light
incense, tea lights, now
birthday candles — dotting
my bedside table. wax melts
down the wood. smile. blow.
today is 17-shaped, like a
bayonet. i think
we were golden or something;
maybe we were, whatever
fucking infinity it was.
but brevity — our time,
our obituaries. my skin
tastes like sun beams. that’s
how they’ll find me:
my mom’s cherry-smeared
cheeks, dad’s droopy eyes
thumbtacked onto my peel
at the morgue. everyone
is telling me i’m not getting
enough sleep, but i'm pissing out
vitamin c & that’s all that matters.
2ND PLACE - $50 PRIZE & A COPY OF SHAKE THE TREE – Evan Guilford-Blake
... from acorns grow
—For Raymond Carver
In Reply to a Message from Barbara
3RD PLACE - $25 PRIZE & A COPY OF SHAKE THE TREE – Pd lyons
Contest Rules (The Brightly Press Facebook Contest Is Now Closed)
How to enter:
1) Submit one to three poems to email@example.com by October 31st. No theme. Open to all styles.
2) Visit the Brightly Press Facebook page on November 15th to see if you've won.
3) If we receive fewer than 30 entries, we may extend the submission date.
Prizes - All winners will be published by on the Brightly Press website in addition to the following awards
1st Prize - $100 and a copy of Shake The Tree Volume Two (A $30 book that we sell for $15 to provide affordable access to the exceptional literary voices of our time).
2nd Prize - $50 and a copy of Shake The Tree Volume Two.
3rd Prize - A copy of Shake The Tree Volume Two