Selected Art, Photography, and Poetry Winners

by Pat Diane Buckner

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1977 Contest Winner
“Mine,” she said (her nose scraping the clouds),
“Is a name to be proud of.”
“Mine, too,” I said.
“In my line,” she said,
“are kings and rulers,
magistrates and counselors
to emperors.”
“In mine,” I said,
“are serfs and peasants,
fishermen and kitchen maids
for the middle class.”
And so she thought herself
better than I.
But I owe no one an apology
for my honorable genealogy.


1977 Contest Winner
In silence
I ponder
And cares
Fall away.
Surrounds me,
Of my day.


1977 Contest Winner
a tattered diary
with gnarled-oak hands
wording silly
girlish words of moonlit nights
and wedding bands;
Amid the crystal cold that
to Lady Winter’s cloak may cling
an old, weathered woman peers
through the frost and once again
sees spring.

[photo] Photo by Boyd M. Reschke

[photo] Photo by George Danielson

[photo] Photo by Evan Belnap

[photo] Photo by Jay Sumsion


1977 Contest Winner
The history of the problems of man
Lies dusty on the shelves,
While we, the ignorant, must make
All the mistakes ourselves.

Spring Word Images

1977 Contest Winner
drifted clouds
liquid snow
green breeze
robin notes
daffodil stars
ditch boats
skate-key jingle
butterfly dance
toadstool umbrella
kitten prance
ladybug smile
cricket song
dandelion butter
kite string long
rainbow bend
heart sing
winter’s end
it’s coming Spring!

[photo] Photo by Yvonne Dobson

[photo] Photo by Steven L. Peck

[photo] Photo by Leslie Ward Powrie

[photo] Photo by Jack R. Nichols

[photo] Photo by Kenneth A. Croft


1977 Contest Winner
(o joyous delirium!)
Out, out!
Bundle coat and scarf—
(where’s my hat; i can’t find my hat.)
Push, push—pull harder!
(these are last year’s boots, they don’t fit very well)
At last! Open the door!
Mittens? Oh wait.
(they were right here; i know it. who took them?)
“Who took my mittens?!”
Oh, (here they are. they were in my pocket.)
Out, out!
(o joyous delirium!)

A Dandelion Scattered at the Stars

1977 Contest Winner
Men are vain to think that God
would be so provincial as to make
one living world, for heaven’s sake,
then scatter sterile stars abroad
to remind us we are alone in sin.
That’s not the way it’s always been.
We sit on night grass
watching the cruise of Orion, of Perseus—
see the rise of Venus, the charge of Mars,
make a dandelion scatter at the stars.


1977 Contest Winner
December comes—
And winter flies in from the north
On wings of ice.

[photo] Photo by Tri Wright


1977 Contest Winner
In early spring
I touched the sticky threads,
And you,
Like a spider,
Spun me up
And caught me in your web.

[illustration] Illustrated by Hyrum B. Hiatt

[photo] Photo by Tom Jay