Poet of the Year/Poem of the Year

Here are the Nominees;

Nora Caldero
"Death is Not An Option"
A TRIBUTE FOR THE: 9/11 TRAGEDY

As I sit here and I wonder why
Somewhere, some way we all must die
Do we believe we can miss the boat
Somehow redirect its path without cutting our throat
Can we fly south or take a sabbatical to France
Can we miss life's most infamous dance
No matter how far you travel or where you go
Death will be there to answer the door
There is no option when it comes to death
No matter how healthy or how much wealth
There is no road that will lead you astray
No miraculous prayer that will save the day
Death has been promised to all kind
Nothing lives forever that is the design
Now life after death that's the true story
The only way there is in Gods' Glory!
Now you must pay attention if you have the need to live on
There are some basic instructions that will not steer you wrong
Try picking this up when you see the next paper or hardback
Some wonderful instructions to help keep your life

Dr. Anthony Tan
"Crossing the River"

Came upon a river shrouded in mist.
Too early for bird call, or wing beat,
Too early even for wind.
A giant conch shell on a beaded string
Hung on the branch of a leafless tree.
it belonged to the boatman of the river.
With little energy I blew it long and thin,
Remembering what I had been taught,
Cupping it between my delicate hands.
On the edge of that feeble call
An apparition darkened the thick mist.
Slowly the bow emerged in the hush of dawn.
Beckoned me to his boat. Didn't tell him
Where to and he didn't ask, as if
My destination were already foreknown
He didn't paddle. He hesitated.
He waited as if he had forgotten something.
Looked me straight in the eye.
When I didnt't respond immediately,
he opened a bony hand,
The bwhite palm trembling with greed.
The other hand gripped the head of a long pole.
then I remembered what I had been taught:
I dropped a silver coin into his open palm.
He gripped it, dropped it into a bulging purse
That was tightly sewn to his leather belt.
the drop of silver on silver
Was the only sound in the soundless mist.
Only then did a fugitive grin light up his face.
Only then did he strike
The murky water in the pole.
There was no one to say goodbye to.
No friends. No kinsmen. No lovers.
the gurgle int he wake took the place of words.
The boat moved toward the other bank,
whereHe had unloaded his boat of so many strangers.

Dr. Anthony Tan
"A Cynic's New Millenium"

During a lull between typhoon rains
Nine white-breasted birds sat on a wire
Under the canopy of low, gray clouds.
On sodden ground the trees and shrubs
Wore the vestigial gloom of late December.
I thought of Hardy and his frail, gaunt thrush
And wished the birds would repeat to me
The thrush's song of hope, celestial solace
They would design to pour on world-weary souls.
I waited for their song. None of them sang,
Engrossed they were with pimping their feathers.
If nine presaged good luck, thought I,
It would be a prosperous year, or decade.
"Happy New Year!" I hailed them cheerily.
Six scampered away, startled, as I was myself,
By the zing and suddenness of my salutation.
Twithced their tails in unison,
Dropped something white and watery
On my bare head and whisked into the dark.

Chi
"Death and Rebirth"

it was not the sun that died that morning
but us finding darkness more comfortable.
we dropped our tools, dropped to our knees
and crawled back to the womb of memory
and there we dreamt of better mornings,
warmer sunshine.But how could we know
while we floated in the belly of silence and cold?
limbo is the worst place.in another world,
we were ready to die again suffocated in
this sac of stagnancy--but a push and a heave,
a breathe of protest against the bred silence,
and we pass through another birthing.
this one slower and more painful until we see
the light again and burst out laughing.

Vinci Bueza
"When only a half-inch glass separates"

cool, sanitized airin an other worldly box
reeking with belches and half-digested fries.
in an unseen magic-gadgetbritney spears spews:
polluted poetryoutside:a homeless childbegs for bones,
an hour earlier had beenthe happy meal of a lucky child.
he knocks at the glass.the couple inside feigned dumb.
or is it their hearts that're numb?
couple's melting ice cream.
if only the child was a fly.or better;
if only there is no glass that separates,worlds,and hearts.

Argel Sanga
"Love is Soul"

Do you believe that loves never last?
A resurrection as unusual happening to us.
The spiritual part of a person that does not die.
For eternal spirit as love that ever last.
Love is soul a part of our life.
A mercy for rules that never lies.
To love is to be honor as respect to god.
Though you remember love before you say goodbye.