We are excited to announce the winner of Chattanooga Writers’ Guild’s October Poetry Contest is Camille Burkley-Wilson with the submission “Mother’s Memory,” and second place is Laura Gunnells Miller with the submission “Spheres.” This month’s theme was “Uncharted.” Thanks to all who participated. And thank you to our poetry judge, Helga Kidder!
First Place: Camille Burkley-Wilson
Mother’s Memory
The horse was Grane after Wagner’s Valkyries,
the dog, Beowulf, black cat, Bagheera.
This was my mother in a nutshell.
Nothing common. Life was grandiose.
She doted on lightning storms
with words like “Beautiful”
and “What a great show.”
She was bold and daring, almost fearless.
When life pushed her, she pushed right back.
Then Alzheimer’s stole her identity.
Her clarity came in scant waves of ebbing tide.
Activities of daily living, like sailing uncharted channels
or hiking a trail suddenly unmarked. Blazed trees
stretched behind her, but none in front.
Stopped in her tracks, wading in rudimental fog,
she held the toothbrush with puzzlement.
In the nursing home I heard:
Patient not packing as often.
The remark slapped me. There were too many
verdicts: take the visa, take the car, take the pistol.
Forgo the home, forgo the food, forgo the penicillin.
Her essence waned with every moon
until the eyelash faded altogether.
I wore black the day her body turned to ash,
but dementia causes many deaths,
things you can’t rock in your arms
like the loss of speech, the loss of love,
the loss of recognition. Some say life
is dawn-to-dusk, a day with death as sunset,
but simple cliches will never fly
so mom was the storm that rumbled by,
and it was beautiful, and it was a great show.
Second Place: Laura Gunnells Miller
Spheres
Bath bubbles splash giggles before bedtime
like happiness of gumballs from red machines
or licking lollipops given at the bank.
Marbles chink in your bag drawn by string.
When baseballs thud in your leather glove,
the coach offers scoops of chocolate ice cream.
Disco balls shimmer a thousand spears of light.
Then, as the gear shift knob contours your roads,
I feel raindrops shatter the windshield at night.
Earth shrinks between the airports parting us.
A rogue cell multiplies into a mass. Grief
dandelions the valley after pathology’s report.
Our eyes hold more than rusty sunset,
when two hands clasp together.
Laura Gunnells Miller is a writer from the mountains of southeast Tennessee. Her work appears in Tar River Poetry, Artemis Journal, Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel, Abyss & Apex Magazine, Salvation South, Art on the Trails (Southborough, Massachusetts), Ekphrastic Review, Mildred Haun Review, Tennessee Voices, and elsewhere.
The Monthly Contests rotate through a pattern of Poetry, Fiction, and Creative Nonfiction throughout the year, with a new theme each month. Go to the 2025 Monthly Contest Series Info page to view the genre and theme for each month.
This contest is free to enter for members of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. To become a member, click HERE
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