SHARPENING THE GREEN PENCIL 2025 RESULTS

 Preselector: Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu, Romania

Final judge: Ed Bremson, USA

Comments:  Ed Bremson

 

Thanks to the administrators of Sharpening the Green Pencil (Florin C. Ciobîcă, Ana Drobot) for trusting me to judge their 2025 contest. While reading, rereading, and working with the poems, I soon discovered what a tough job it was. I wish I could give  a prize to everyone, but that’s not the way it works. Best wishes to all who submitted. Thank you for allowing me to read your work. And congratulations to those whose poems appear here. You’re all winners. (Ed Bremson)

 

127 – First Prize

 

between

lightning and thunder

a farewell kiss

 

Sebastian Chrobak / Bielsko-Biała / Poland

 

 

Time. Is there anything more important? Short time, long time, running out of time, more time please. And reading this poem brings up all kinds of questions. How long is the interval between this lightning and thunder? How long does the kiss last? Who are these people? Mother and child? Husband and wife? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Why farewell? What does that mean? All these questions add to the richness of the poem, and I think the poem is an inventive way of poetically dealing with time. I like the use of nouns instead of verbs. Although the structure doesn’t use fragment and phrase as such, it works. And it presents a way of showing instead of telling. And of course, depending on our precise interpretation, it could be seen as poignant. In any event,  I would personally like to see a kireji here, something like an ellipsis at the end: “a farewell kiss…” because this is not the end, just an intimate moment or moments in time passing between two people.

 

017 – Second Prize

 

puzzle piece

the wind's solution

leaf by leaf

 

Dylan Stover / Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio / USA

 

 

This poem does use fragment and phrase, without kireji, and has only eleven syllables. It’s not a realistic, literal poem. It reminds me of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice – perhaps Magical Realism? Impressionism? It is a visual poem. There are contrasting images – jigsaw puzzle piece, autumn leaves – and yes, they are different from each other, but in some ways the same. One can imagine the wind stirring up the leaves, without an actual final result, other than what is captured in this snapshot of a moment. The wind can’t actually solve a jigsaw puzzle, but it’s interesting to entertain the idea. And while the wind can’t solve the puzzle, it can scatter the leaves, creating new images – in some ways nature’s autumn jigsaw. And just as, according to Heraclitus you can’t step into the same stream twice, neither can you step into the same autumn scene twice. Again I like the use of nouns instead of verbs. Once again showing, not telling. The poem excites the imagination – my imagination at least. It’s the kind of idea I wish I had had.

 

 

072 – Third Prize

 

fireworks

the emptiness left as

the crowd moves on

 

Peter Free / Lower Hutt / New Zealand

 

 

Fireworks… a medium for entertainment and celebration. In some ways they are kind of a waste of time. The circus has largely gone by the wayside, why not the fireworks display? Besides, they have a lot in common with bombs. And in fact, I’m sure most animals and small children consider them bombs. Children have been known to cry, and dogs have been known to cringe in response to fireworks. Of course, if you can get over being afraid of them, they can be symbols of joy, and not at all a waste of time. Fireworks displays are occasions for people to gather together and celebrate. So a lot of this, and more, is subsumed under just the word “fireworks.” In any event, this is a very visual poem, in twelve syllables, and there are several contrasting images… sky filled with light / explosions; empty sky afterward; the crowd present and the crowd dispersing… full sky / full field… empty sky / empty field. This poem leaves a good, lasting impression. It’s hard to say enough about it because it says it so well itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

HONORABLE MENTIONS

 

 

006

a stand of sycamores

seventeen legs of deer

in winter rain

 

Joshua St. Claire / New Freedom / USA

 

 

The syllable count for the previous three poems was eleven, eleven, and twelve. This one also takes advantage of haiku’s flexibility with sixteen syllables, arranged 6/6/4. Sometimes the image we’re trying to convey requires more words – more syllables. At first I wondered if the poet might be striving to do too much with this poem; but finally I decided it was all appropriate as it is.

 

004

along the shoreline

collecting my thoughts

sandpipers

 

Scott Mason / Somers, New York / USA

 

 

This poem has three lines that come across to me as a kind of shorthand, or even a series of brushstrokes. Each line accomplishes an image. Taken together, they contain just enough concrete imagery, and just enough ambiguity, so that the poem transcends the ordinary. Ambiguity is good. Most, if not all great works of art, contain an element of ambiguity. For example, the Mona Lisa is not great for no reason. Five hundred years later we’re still talking about her ambiguous smile.

 

046

late summer light

filling the house

wild peaches

 

Marion Clarke / Warrenpoint / Northern Ireland

 

 

 

I like this for the images (light / peaches) and for the pivot (filling the house.) It reminds me of a quiet Sunday afternoon, containing enough specificity to create a memorable scene, and enough ambiguity to leave me pondering it long after I finish reading. I would consider putting “wild peaches” first. It seems to me to be the fragment, in “fragment and phrase.” On the other hand, however, “filling the house” acts as a pivot between “late summer light” and “wild peaches.” As such it works well – better than putting “wild peaches” first. With eleven syllables, the poem’s structure is not short/long/short, but it’s good anyway.

 

 

COMMENDED

 

147

dust rising

from the old dry pond...

distant thunder

 

Cristian Pietraru, Darabani, Romania

 

 

Finally we have a kireji. I always try to include one in my poems, and I’d like to see more of them in the poems I read. It seems that there is a tendency with modern haiku, regardless of language, to omit the kireji. Anyway, this poem has one, as well as fragment and phrase, but inverted, of course, with the fragment coming last. That’s ok, sometimes a poem works out this way, and is better for it. I like the way it shows instead of tells. Nice images create nice poems, and memorable scenes like this one.

 

 

068

another blizzard

losing myself

in another jigsaw

 

Tracy Davidson / Stratford-upon-Avon / United Kingdom /

 

Jigsaw puzzles must be a popular subject, and I can understand why. Every puzzle piece must be found in order to have a complete picture. In this poem, it seems the poet is assembling a jigsaw puzzle, while the blizzard rages outside. Or perhaps the puzzle itself pictures a blizzard to assemble. We can’t know, because we don’t have the key poetic puzzle piece; but that’s ok. We have compelling images and suggestive language instead. I always worry about using the same word twice in such a brief poem, but it seems to work well here.

 

082

the sudden flash

of a kingfisher

blue evening

 

Ruth Holzer / Potomac Falls / USA

 

 

This is a very competent haiku. It reminds me of kingfishers I have seen on my nature walks. I think “blue evening” is the fragment. If one were to put it first, then we’d have a short/long/short structure, which is the usual appearance for a haiku. I think haiku structure is important. But even though this deviates slightly from that s/l/s structure, it works very well for me, and I like it.