Welcome Robin Anna Smith

Judging the Poetry of Courage Award for 2021 will be Robin Anna Smith, a writer and artist whose work has earned numerous accolades, including The Touchstone Award for Individual Poems (2020), First Place in the UHTS Fleeting Words Tanka Contest (2019), and nomination for the Pushcart Prize (2018). Their work focuses on disability, gender, and systems from a neurodiverse perspective.

Robin has two chapbooks and two mini collections: Fire Rainbow (Human/Kind Press, 2020), Forsythia (Turtle Light Press, 2020), Systems Askew (Yavanika Press, 2019), and Controlled Chaos (Sonic Boom, 2019). Robin is the Founder and EIC for Human/Kind Journal and Press.

On our question of how 2020 has impacted the role of the poet, they write:

“The occurrences of 2020 have well-illustrated why poetry is so important. Over time, we have seen how history books have been rewritten by the powers that wield control, and important parts of the past have conveniently been erased. The onus is on us, as poets, to inject truth into our work to bear witness and to likewise lift up the works of other truth-writers who may not have the same platforms or privileges that we do.

As technology advances, much of our genuine communication tends to diminish, making it easier for propagandists to spread misinformation. I feel poetry occupies a unique space that can help bridge this gap and spark new conversations that may otherwise not take place. There is a way that poetry captures the essence of a subject that often cannot be relayed in prose. This can draw attention to important subjects in a manner that is unintimidating yet at the same time thought-provoking. My hope is that poets will use their positions to provoke positive change in society.”

Robin shares the following poem with us:

Honoring Bruce Lader and Introducing Kristina Erny

Our poetry of witness award is newly sponsored by Doug Stuber and has been renamed to honor Bruce Lader.

Of Bruce, Doug writes, “Bruce Lader wrote a wide variety of poems of witness that addressed many issues of our day. By applying his philosophy in wry verse he helped us nervously laugh about the foibles of those in charge of government and the armed services.”

Click this link to read one of Bruce’s poems, from the June 1994 issue of Poetry magazine: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=38967

The Bruce Lader Poetry of Witness Award for 2021 will be judged by Kristina Erny.

Kristina is a third culture poet who grew up in South Korea. Her poetry has appeared in The Los Angeles Review, Tupelo Quarterly, Yemassee, Bluestem, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA from the University of Arizona, and her work has been the recipient of the Tupelo Quarterly Inaugural Poetry Open Prize and the Ruskin Art Club Poetry Award. Her manuscript Wax of What’s Left was a finalist for Tupelo Press’s Dorset Prize, Ahsahta Sawtooth Poetry award, and the Colorado Prize for Poetry. After many years of teaching internationally, she currently teaches creative writing at Asbury University and lives in Kentucky with her husband, sons, and daughter.

Of the role of the poet, she says:

“Rick Barot has a brilliant sequence of poems entitled ‘During the Pandemic.’ In Number 30, he writes ‘And there were days when I remembered the teacher who made us memorize a poem each week, and when we asked why, she said we might one day find ourselves in a wreck at the side of the road and we would recite these poems to stay alive.’

This summer I participated in a Writing Lab facilitated by Sarabande Books taught by Louisville poet Joy Priest. This was what got me through after months of quarantine, after marching, after watching my state of Kentucky and a city very close to where I live join the national stage in protest to American police brutality and injustice. Our little band of writers met on zoom for three weeks. We were writing into the wind, attempting to shout our own stories, our own visions, our own dreams, imagining a future for human survival and thriving. The poet’s role is to be alive, their mind an antennae to human experience. The poet’s role is one of truth-telling, bearing witness. This is necessary, essential: water, breath, light. Poetry’s mask demands speaking, not staying silent.

How did we survive 2020? The challenges of 2020 have underlined, bolded, and italicized the necessity of poetry to our survival as a species. Not only does poetry make space for the imaginative work which will ultimately shape our future, I believe that poetry has a unique capacity to engage human empathy and understanding. Maybe it’s the ability of poetry, as Naomi Shihab Nye has said, to hold space for the ‘other’. To place it’s hand around a frame and say, look at this. Be tender. Let your heart be changed. You are not alone. We are not alone.”

Kristina shares this poem with us:

The Mother Brushes Her Son’s Hair 

He’s tender-headed. She’s annoyed at his flinching, his calling out. This ritual 
cost of his long hair, longer than hers though hers isn’t long by any means. 

He made her a mother young, and there are days, like this one, 
she can hardly believe the same bald-headed baby thrust into her arms 

is this boy, as if this one sprang up fully formed out of a cactus flower,
just arrived this morning, to have her comb his hair. His jeans are rolled up, 

his bony elbows recently skinned. Between shudders, he looks himself in the eye.  
At his age, she’d sprawled on a red cushion, her hands a tripod beneath her chin, 

all her lenses aimed toward her teacher’s voice and the story of an unlikely sailor, 
a young girl who’d dressed as a boy, cut her own hair, and sailed into a cliffhanger 

at the end of each chapter. Her boy could be Charlotte, gentry turned sea-dog, 
arms muscled into tight strips of licorice, reaching for the next rigging, hair in his eyes. 

Last year she’d watched as he sat on a bench while two gangly short-shorn older 
boys pointed fingers long as levels at him are you a girl? 

They’d moved their accusatory palms to their mouths, eating giggles, 
and she’d watched. Her boy slumped downward, looked at his shoes. 

Now here he is in front of her. Hair almost to his waist. She sets down the brush 
and hugs her body into his shoulders. He allows her this. He runs out the bathroom door. 

Amie Whittemore: the necessity of poetry

Part of the indomitability of human nature is our use of lightheartedness and humor as a foil to oppression. Given that, I expect we’ll get some stellar work this year for the Kennedy McIntyre Light Verse Award.

Amie Whittemore will be our judge. This is her take on the role of the poet today:

I feel as though the myriad challenges of 2020 have made it at once more difficult to write poetry and, potentially, more necessary. A difficult combination.

I think the onslaught of tragedies—from the pandemic to the ongoing police brutality against Black people to the presidential election to wildfires ravaging the American West to whatever personal sorrow each of us is carrying—has made it hard to maintain the traits I find most beneficial to my writing: silence, calm, clear-sightedness, stillness. At the beginning of the pandemic, I felt some of that stillness and calm as professional and personal obligations melted away, as time slowed down and grew murky and thick. But now, though I am still maintaining relative isolation, I feel like my personal and professional obligations have ramped back up, making it even more difficult to process and partake in the systemic changes—social, economic, and environmental—that so desperately require our attention and energy. The cynic in me would say this is in the best interest of capitalism and hegemony; the more overwhelmed we are, the more unlikely it is the collective action required to render widespread change will take place.

Which brings me to the necessity of poetry. I think poetry wears a lot of hats and somehow looks dapper in all of them, balancing precariously on its exquisite skull. For some poets, at this point, poetry is a place to release anger, grief, rage, to do the work of toppling oppressors and oppressions. For others, it is a way to cultivate beauty and peace, to reflect on love and connection—these nourishments that feel in short supply. Sometimes a poem can do both, rage and frolic, and that is a dazzling thing.

I think sometimes writers can feel guilty for writing about joy in times of collective grief (which is of course, a perpetual paradox, just one that feels particularly fraught at the moment). I know I have felt that way. I know sometimes joy also feels flimsy living in this age of extinction and decline; this era of earth-grief.

So, while no one’s asked me for advice, I feel compelled to offer some. I think 2020 is a year of reckoning in many ways, and all reckoning begins with an interrogation of the self: how can I be an antiracist? What does it mean to be a good citizen in a problematic nation? How can I demonstrate kindness to others and myself? How might being gracious with myself allow me to have grace with others? What does a sharing economy look like? What is the name of that bird I hear every morning?

Follow the questions. They will lead you somewhere new, likely a meadow full of new questions. Bring some good snacks for the road ahead. Drink water. Breathe deep. Wear your mask.

Here is Amie’s bio:

Amie Whittemore is the author of the poetry collection Glass Harvest (Autumn House Press) and the 2020 Poet Laureate of Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Her poems have won multiple awards, including a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Prize, and her poems and prose have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Nashville Review, Smartish Pace, Pleiades, and elsewhere. She is the Reviews Editor for Southern Indiana Review and teaches English at Middle Tennessee State University.

You can read one of her poems here: https://poets.org/poem/spell-end-grief

may I introduce Virgil Suárez

If your poem has a lot to say, it may be right for our Thomas H. McDill Award, which accepts work of up to 70 lines in any form or style.

This year’s judge is Virgil Suárez, who was born in Havana, Cuba in 1962.  At the age of twelve he arrived in the United States. He received an MFA from Louisiana State University in 1987.  He is the author of eight collections of poetry, most recently 90 MILES: SELECTED AND NEW, published by the University of Pittsburgh Press.  His work has appeared in a multitude of magazines and journals internationally.

He has been taking photographs on the road for the last three decades. When he is not writing, he is out riding his motorcycle up and down the Blue Highways of the Southeast, photographing disappearing urban and rural landscapes. His 10th volume of poetry, THE PAINTED BUNTING’S LAST MOLT, will be published by the University of Pittsburgh Press in the Spring of 2020.

On the subject of the current role of the poet in society, he says:

“I think young poets will have no difficulty in making their work more political, and more relevant to their times.
2020 has been a tough year for everyone. Personally, I have been able to get a lot of work done during
the pandemic. It’s what I’ve been training for all my life, having more time than I know what to do with,
so I write. The way folks have adjusted (well, some folks haven’t really, at all) but those of us who have
taken the pandemic seriously have adapted to best of our ability. I’ve been writing and cooking a lot.
I’ve been reading on Zoom from my new book: THE PAINTED BUNTING’S LAST MOLT out from
the University of Pittsburgh Press. I’ve been thinking about lines of distribution. About how so many
of us depend on medicine. What if medicine stopped coming to our local pharmacies? Such a question
lead to the poem featured here.”

Big Pharma Blues

Better living through pharmacology,
except when CVS can’t fill a pres-
cription, claiming your mental
health pills are no longer available.
Suddenly, the old fears emerge:
a man drifting through the back
roads, wandering between burning
pines and wild boars grazing
at his feet. If this is how the world
ends, then I want to be food
for the animals. They can sniff
out danger and the flesh of this
man gorged on Japanese natto
and tobiko. Sometimes you have
to lose in order to come back
in new formulated chemistry.
Nature doesn’t need medicine
to know how much fuckery
there is In the human heart.

we’re ready to begin: meet Taylor Byas

Submissions are open and you have 8 weeks to send us your poems. If you’ve ever had doubts as to the importance of your words, I hope 2020 has laid them to rest.

The North Carolina Poetry Society is committed to the support, promotion, and celebration of poetry. Now more than ever we need all heart-felt poetic voices to ring out loud.

This year I virtually attended the Dodge Poetry Festival, which was presented as a series of online readings and panel discussions. During a session titled “Imagine a New Way,” poet Martin Espada sounded a rallying cry to poets by saying, “If those in power are going to divorce language from meaning, we have to reconcile it.”

I have asked our judges to consider the question, “How have the challenges of 2020 impacted the role of the poet in our society?” Over the next couple of weeks I’ll share their answers with you as I introduce them.

I’ll start with our preliminary judge for the Poet Laureate Award, Taylor Byas. She writes:

This year has been incredibly difficult for writers. I find that a lot of writers are understandably struggling to produce. There’s this internal debate sometimes about whether to write about the grief and the loss that we seem to be constantly experiencing. Book releases and networking events have been affected. The writing takes a hit when so many other things are falling apart. But I think as a result, we’ve had to find these different ways to support one another. More than anything, I think this year has been a reminder that being a poet is not just about showing up to the page, but it’s also about being a member of a community and lifting each other up. I think the challenges of this year have often increased conversations surrounding politics and poetry and if the two can be kept separate. As a poet who is also a Black woman, I don’t have that luxury of keeping them separate. And I don’t think I would want to if I could. More than anything, for me, this year has been a reminder that being political as a poet is necessary work. And I know that looks different for everyone, and I don’t think the work of revolution or change stops at the page. But 100 years from now people will look back on what we’ve written and produced and published, and I hope that they see the world changing in our work. I hope that we try to change the world in our work.

Taylor shares the following poem with us, which was originally published in January of this year with Glass Poetry.


“If Mike Espy and the liberal Democrats gain the Senate we will take that first step into a thousand years of darkness.”

—from a tweet by Phil Bryant, Governor of Mississippi, 1/2/2020

They say eating the soil might
be good for you. To have your pale
chiclet teeth redlined
by clay, your ocean-clear
mouthwash bloodied when you spit
in the sink. Mistake this for a split
lip, a back-alley beating
that has left the tongue fat enough
to rick your cries for help.
Your grandmother tells you to avoid
the clay cooling in the shade
of the taller trees, and you don’t.
After rain, the clay goes garnet, clumps
of wine-dark up to your
elbows, smeared around your lips.
My God, you’ve gone

cannibal. They say eating the soil
might be good for you
with all its minerals, the blood
that wept from swollen
black toes and dried in the shape
of another country. In death,
someone fed this tree. After a few
mouthfuls tonight, you feel
a little madness creeping in. You watch
the sun set while sitting back
on your heels, its half-step into darkness
packing the world into red
clay. This is blood-warm, the heat
of night closing in like a mob. Bribe
the sun to set on you instead, let
it light you aflame.


Here is Taylor’s bio:

Taylor Byas is a Black poet and essayist from Chicago. She currently lives in Cincinnati, where she is a second year PhD student and Albert C. Yates Scholar at the University of Cincinnati. She is pursuing her degree in Creative Writing (Poetry). She is a reader for both The Rumpus and The Cincinnati Review, and the Poetry Editor for FlyPaper Lit. Her work appears or is forthcoming in New Ohio Review, Borderlands Texas Poetry Review, Hobart, Pidgeonholes, The Rumpus, SWWIM, Jellyfish Review, Empty Mirror, and others. She also loves hugs.

the need for poetry

This year as I prepare for the Pinesong Awards for 2021, I am struck by the need for poetry. Poetry and humanity go hand-in-hand.

At no time time in our history have we not expressed ourselves through the lyric use of language. The very act draws us together.

When I asked our NCPS treasurer, Bill Griffin, what it was that made him decide to add a poem to each of his financial reports, he replied:

“As I recall it was not a conscious act of subversion but more like getting dressed before you leave the house. Would a Board meeting be complete without a poem? At first I think I began reading a poem before each financial report because, hey, it’s a financial report, who really wants to listen to that? Pretty soon I started typing the poem into the report itself — on the last page so you have to look at the numbers before you get to the chocolate center. Plus it’s my report so I get to pick a poem I really like (well, one I really hope you will like, too). Maybe that is a little subversive.

“This year I’ve attended several outdoor conferences where, before every meal, someone reads a quotation by a favorite naturalist or conservationist, or reads a poem. Mary Oliver, Gary Snyder, and Wendell Berry obvious favorites. I posit that there is a patron poet for every type of meeting, conference, gathering, or organization you can imagine. Once I read a poem at a Medical Executive Committee meeting and afterwards one of the docs said, “I’ll bet you went to Davidson.” I didn’t but perhaps his comment says something about Tony Abbott’s influence across North Carolina. Next step — RECITE a poem at every meeting.”

I’ll be exploring this question of “why poetry” with our judges in future blog posts.

Now, let’s have a poem from the North Carolina Poetry Society’s president, Malaika King Albrecht:

Praise Song for What Is

Praise the frozen rain, the icicles daggering
the trees, the grey snow sludge. Praise
the shiver, the wet wind cutting through clothes,
the frozen water troughs. Blessed be
the hard frost, the frozen pond,
the apple tree sapling snapped in half.

Praise autumn and spring, the hot then cold
then hot again. Praise the corn mazes,
the haystacks, the reaping what we’ve sown.
Blessed be the fig tree, the honeycomb, the hive.
Praise the kudzu, the poison ivy,
the forsythia screaming yellow at a fence.

Praise the mosquito, the itch,
the scratch. Praise the heat waves
rising from asphalt, the stopped
highway traffic, and my a/c out.
Blessed be the dusty, the wilted, the dry
husks of corn in summer drought.

Praise the possum lumbering
into the chicken coop,
the fox slinking the wood’s edge.
The owl, the hawk, blessed be
their swift descent.
Praise the failures, the losses. Blessed be
the broken path that brought me here.

a poem for every occasion

North Carolina Poetry Society’s treasurer, Bill Griffin, adds a poem to each of his financial reports. Presented at every board meeting, it serves as a reminder of a what we’re working for.

Think of how different the world would be if this was true of all kinds of communication. Every menu, all the brochures, each billboard with its own poem. Poetry at the start of every press conference and in the middle of every political debate. A poem when you go to a news site.

A noble goal.

I’ll start.

The Pinesong Awards for 2021 submission window opens November 14 and runs through January 9.

Now, may I present a poem by NCPS member and Pinesong Award winner Eric Weil:

A Confederate Time Capsule

Egyptians put treasures in pharaohs’ tombs
for their use in the afterlife, knowing

that grave robbers would likely exhume them.
When North Carolina removed its Monument

to the Confederate Dead, which had stood
on the Capitol grounds for 115 years, workers

found a time capsule inside the granite base,
a rusted cocoon without a butterfly, just

Lost Cause relics: uniform buttons, money,
newspaper clippings, and hair both human

and horse. A faction said that the statue
should be permanent, but they forget:

nothing stands forever, as wind-blown sand
will erase even the pyramids. A time capsule

argues for a briefer expectation,
that the glorious dead must someday

be allowed to let go of their defeat, releasing
their descendants from pride’s shackles.

getting ready for 2021

We are busily making preparations for the Pinesong Awards for 2021, which will be ready for submissions starting November 14.

In the meantime, you can check out all the award winning poems for 2020 through the North Carolina Poetry Society’s website at https://www.ncpoetrysociety.org/contests/pinesong_2020_e-file/

student awards

North Carolina Poetry Society’s wonderful Student Contests Director, Arianna Del Palazzo, has been hard at work organizing the contests for students from grade 3 and up. The winning poems will published alongside our adult winners in the Pinesong awards anthology. The student poets will also be invited to read their work at Awards Day.

Here is Arianna’s announcement of the winners:

The Student Contest submissions came to a close on February 1st, 2020 with over 500 submissions! So many talented poets submitted their work. Our 4 judges certainly had a difficult task at hand. 

It is with much excitement and pride we announce this years NC Student Poetry Contest Winners! 

Sherry Pruitt Award

First place: bao
Emily Yang
Second Place: Ambiance
LauraLee Hurst
Third Place: Insignificant Ant
Charles Canady
Honorable Mention: Sour Sayings
Baker Sanders
Honorable Mention: Away
Matilda Ziegler
Honorable Mention: Winter is Approaching
Nathan Creech

Joan Scott Memorial Award

First Place: If You Stayed in Cabin Six
Gray Fickling
Second Place: I Want to Be There
Anna Berens
Third Place: Storms
Delaney Osborne
Honorable Mentions: Lighting
Raya Robertson
Honorable Mention: Hopeful Beginning
Sanjana Solanki
Honorable Mention: The Earth and Us
Megan Perry

Travis Tuck Jordan Award

First Place: The Round Soccer Ball
Principe Nzayiramya
Second Place: Clyde
Gray Fickling
Third Place: The State Fair
Hailey Williams
Honorable Mention: Sea Creatures
Muna Uchendu
Honorable Mention: Mythical Creatures
Olivia Smith
Honorable Mention: A Day in the Life of a Frog
Alexandra Leszczuk

Mary Chilton Award

First Place: Ode To My Violin
Nadya Kotlyarevska
Second Place: Sensitive
Lela Ward
Third Place: Flood Prison
Avery Anderson
Honorable Mention: Stars Shine Brightly
Kenna Zhang
Honorable Mention: Eggs
Alex Pomeloy
Honorable Mention: Being Aware
Katherine Lyons

A huge thanks to all the teachers who took the time to submit multiple student poems. Without their willingness to participate, contests like this would not be possible! 

awards announcement!

It’s that time! Our 12 judges have made their selections for the North Carolina Poetry Society Pinesong Awards for 2020. Many of them pointed out that the process was both challenging and rewarding given the high quality of the submissions. North Carolina Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green wrote, “It is both delightful and inspiring to read the breadth of literary genius that we have in our State.”

A total of 654 qualified entries from 163 poets were reviewed by the judges. From those 42 poems by 33 poets were given first, second, or honorable mention awards and will be published in the Pinesong anthology. Nine other poems were declared finalists in the Poet Laureate contest.

The winning poems were highly praised by the judges, particularly for their authenticity and command of language. Michael Rothenberg spoke of poems that hit him hard and fast with “a clarity I find appealing.” Julia Beach recognized the use of images and “how they called to each other from each stanza, and how they remained in a constant state of transformation within the poem.” Bloodroot judge, Julie Warther, described the winning haiku as “crystalline moments.” Amelia Martens mentioned “thoughtful line breaks, where the poem uses white space to expand or suspend a thought on the page.” Dr. Marcia L. Hurlow responded to language that was “ musical and precise without calling undue attention to itself.”

For myself, this has been a labor of love, and I am proud to present your Pinesong Awards for 2020:

Poet Laureate Award
Preliminary Judge Michael Rothenberg

Final selection by Jaki Shelton Green

Elegy for Joe by Joyce Brown

Frank O’Hara Gets Dirty in Bull City by Hugh Findlay
My Father and I Have Nightmares by Janet Ford
River in Your Living Room by Jeanne Julian
Arachnidaea by Stephen C. Pollock
Thematic Variations on GFCBA by Connie Ralston
The 4th pillow by Erica Rothman
Margie Skips a Grade by Maria Rouphail
Corresponding with Richard Wilbur by Melinda Thomsen
Watching the Watcher by Christina Xiong

Alice Osborn Award (poems written for children)
Judge Carolyn Guinzio

First Place:
In the Attic by Edward Garvey
Second Place:
Baby Bird in the Daisies by Arlene Mandell
Honorable Mention:
Playing in the Garden by Joyce Brown
That Time I Sat on Arhtur Dellenger’s Tractor by Les Brown
Camels for Two by Martin Settle

Carol Bessent Hayman Poetry of Love Award
Judge Dr. Marcia L. Hurlow

First Place:
My Father Listened by Jo Ann Hoffman
Second Place:
Blondie’s Howl by Kathy Ackerman
Honorable Mention:
Backstory for the Beautiful Abandoned by Laura Alderson
At Play by Patricia Deaton
The best courage is against all odds. by Mary Hennessy

Joanna Catherine Scott Award(sonnet or other traditional form)
Judge Pamela Johnson Parker

First Place:
In My Defense by Barbara Blanks
Second Place:
The Sun’s Uprising by Melinda Thomsen
Honorable Mention:
What the Famous Writer Said by Kenneth Chamlee
Separate Ways by Ron Lavalette
Nasal Biopsy by Stephen C Pollock

Katherine Kennedy McIntyre Light Verse Award
Judge Jeff Worley

First Place:
Ruse de Cezanne by Nick Sweet
Second Place:
Goodbye and Keep Chilled by Jeanne Julian
Honorable Mention:
Generations by Jo Ann Hoffman
Husbandry by JeanMarie Olivieri
The Worship of Dog by Martin Settle

Mary Ruffin Poole American Heritage Award (heritage, sibling-hood, or nature themed)
Judge Sarah McCartt-Jackson

First Place:
A Fall Language by Benjamin Cutler
Second Place:
Kinship by Andrew Taylor-Troutman
Honorable Mention:
Deep Stony by Lucia Walton Robinson

Poetry of Courage Award
Judge Amelia Martens

First Place:
Nam, Man by Hugh Findlay
Second Place:
Waiting for Results by Kathy Ackerman
Honorable Mention:
Please Stand by Kenneth Chamlee
My Mother Quits Smoking by Eric Weil
A Day Different by Glenna D. Wolfe

Poetry of Witness Award (contemporary events or issues)
Judge Brendan Walsh

First Place:
Disposable Rant by Kathy Ackerman
Second Place:
Junkyard Gives up Secret Accounts of Massacre in Iraq by Paloma A Capanna

Bloodroot Haiku Award
Judge Julie Warther

First Place:
empty begging bowl by kj munro
Second Place:
death watch – by Carole MacRury
Honorable Mention:
sun rising by Ed Bremson
crickets at dusk by Glenn Coats
scent of pine by Tracy Davidson

Ruth Morris Moose Sestina Award
Judge Julia Beach

First Place:
Starbucks Sestina by Mary O’Keefe Brady
Second Place:
Where Bluebirds Fly by Tracy Davidson
Honorable Mention:
Competitors by Lee Ann Gillen
Naughty Cocklebur, Artful Iris by Robert Keeler

Thomas H. McDill Award
Judge Adam Day

First Place:
Remnants by Martin Settle
Second Place:
Steve’s Balloons by Stephen C Pollock