Category Archives: Writing Contests

Poetry Contest/ #50 PRECIOUS WORDS/

2021 Fall Writing Frenzy

The Last Harvest by RL Brown

Wind rustles the leaves. 
Trees shimmer yawning deeply, 
Anticipation.

Autumn equinox,
the balance of light and dark,
time juncture converts. 

Turn your face eastward.
Fall moon on the horizon
blazing golden hues.

Extravagant colors!
A migratory birds last song.
Light wanes for evening.

Nature splendor yields 
a harvest of abundance, 
Thankfulness expressed. 

Inner autumn calls,
time to embrace season’s change.
The wind howls for rest.

Light narrows yet shines.
Truth displayed for all to see, 
God’s bountiful grace. 

Rapture of the church 
The last harvest, winter comes.
Weary souls find rest. 
Fall- Credit: Julia Solonina / Unsplash

The Eyes of a Dyslexic Child By RL Brown (WC 190)

My brain hurts.
My eyes won’t work.
I can’t read anymore.
Why do letters move?
Be still, so I can read you.			
The letters whisper-
Don’t give up.

Jumbled Words.
Letters flip and flop. 
Then they jump and hop.
Why do letters move?
Be still, so I can see you.
The letters whisper. 
Say my name.

Grumbled Sounds,
And mumbled tones, 
Never sounding the same.
WHY do letters move?
Be still, so I can hear you.
The letters whisper-
Blend the sounds.


Teacher, Teacher!
The letters are moving!
Oh, no, that’s in your head.
Why do letters move?
Be still, YOU!
The letters whisper-
Concentrate. 

Taking Test
Orally, I’m best.
Letters look like scribbles. 
Why do letters move?
Be still, so I can write you.
The letters whisper-
Yes, you can. 

Read aloud!
Nervous mistakes,			
Makes my insides quake. 
Why do letters move?
Be still, so no one laughs at me. 
The letters shout. 
Keep going. 

Every day,
my teacher says,
“You’re reading better today!”
“Why did letters move?”
Not anymore! 
I shout, hooray!
I’m reading today. 

Rex hated to read aloud. Words skipped, tripped and stumbled over his tongue like jabbering gibberish. Flustered, Rex stopped.

Susie loved to read aloud. Her words slid in seamless syllables of streaming sounds. Her correctness rattled Rex. 
 
Susie closed the book. Torrents of confusion ceased; his heart sank in horrible comparison.  Susie can read and he cannot. 

Rex wished he could slash words off all the pages. Then there would be no more letters picking at his brain. The pages would be silent like listening to quiet rain.

(WIP)
Photo by mentatdgt on Pexels.com

Autumn Breeze by RLBrown

Snuggled in a blanket, 
thick socks warm my toes. 
Hot latte melts my insides. 
Fall breeze tickles my nose. 
Achoo

Hay bales decorate storefronts 
with scarecrows and pumpkins. 
Overalls adorn with autumn hues, 
"Hello, country bumpkins."
 Achoo-ACHOO!

It’s a crisp autumn day, 
lacking yesterday's heat 
Parade begins. Fair Food!
Time for a delicious treat.  
ACHOO - Achoo- ACH...

A visit to the pumpkin patch 
on a sunny afternoon, 
thick with particulates 
no one is immune.
Achoo, Achoo, and ACHOO!

The Harvest Moon fills sky, 
with reddish orange glow.
Cinnamon spices fill the air.
Caw! Caw! A scary black crow.
Achoo, ACHOO 

Slow down and take the time
to make a pot of savory stew.
Breath in and enjoy the season
even with a sneeze or two.
Achoo

Autumn Breeze by RL Brown October 2020

Snuggled in a blanket, thick socks warm my toes, a hot latte melts my insides, and a fall breeze tickles my nose. Achoo!
Hay bales decorate storefronts with scarecrows and pumpkins, adorn with autumn hues. It’s a typically crisp autumn day, lacking the humidity and heat of yesterday. ACHOO – Achoo.
A visit to the pumpkin patch on a sunny afternoon, thick with particulates and allergen visibly floating in the air. Achoo, Achoo, and ACHOO!
The Harvest Moon fills the evening sky, the horizon allowing only the yellow, orange, and red hues to filter through – Achoo, ACHOO!
The smell of cinnamon and spices and a warm pot of stew remind me of fall and winter coming soon. Achoo!
The Harvest Moon disappears for another year as the fall wind blows the dust away and brings the fresh, clean air. Time to slow down, look around, and breathe in this fall season, even with a sneeze or two.

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#50PRECIOUSWORDS 2021 is Officially OPEN!

Fairytale Fishing / A Haiku (WC 49) written by RL Brown

Excerpt from My Grand is an Alien

Acrylic Pointing by RL Brown
No buckets, no boats, 
And no carrying large totes,
Just Grandpa and me. 

A pole in each hand
Grasshoppers by the pond bank.
Gramps catches our bait.

A nibble, a tug.
Fishermen feel the line and-
wait to jerk the hook-

Reeling in a big fat brim.  
(WC 47)