Items entered in various contest

The Sun Turns to Ash

The sun turns to ash
The ground falls away
I have nowhere to stand.

The trees take on a Gruesome grin
The gnarled limbs grabbing me
I have nowhere to run

The wind shouts through my brain
The words spout from my mouth
Before checking with my head

Dianne Lowe Breakfield

The instructions for the following contest entry said you had to include the following words, Trees, Twinkle, Christmas, Snowflakes, Blanket and Coat

A Holiday Tale

The silence of the saddened soul
Falls as the festive trees glow
The twinkle of the holiday cheer
For many brings only fear
Depression finds them with the night
Shorter days and Christmas lights
Like snowflakes they fall down
A blanket on the frozen ground
Don’t worry about your winter coat
Just slip your head in the hangman’s rope

Dianne Lowe Breakfield


The poetic form The Pleiades is aptly named: the seven lines can be said to represent the seven sisters, and the six syllables represent the nearly invisible nature of one sister.

Krampus Time of Year

It’s Christmas time again
when Krampus comes around
to punish naughty teens
and children who’ve been bad
It’s best to have a pet
that’s big and mean and loud
at Krampus time of year

Dianne Lowe Breakfield


The instructions for the following piece said the phrase, "I just received my
Renewed passport." had to be included in the body of the piece

I just received my
Renewed passport.
Where should I go?
I need some advice.

I have never seen a
Passport like this.
Why is it plated
In silver and gold?

Hello Mr. Passport Agent.
Have you ever seen a
Passport like this
Covered in precious metals?

Do my eyes deceive me?
Is this really what I think?
Yes, so rare, so fine
You are the lucky one.

You get the best
Of what there is.
Enter that ruby door
You’re on your way!

Be still my racing heart,
Luxury beyond compare,
Servants for all my needs,
All I could ever want.


“Welcome”, boomed a
Sultry voice that seemed
To encompass me.
Pleasure beyond this plain.

He seems to be gliding
Across the marble floor
His eyes pierce through
To secret. private places

He has command of
My very soul, burning
With a fiery cold
Hurting with no pain

That was, well I’m not
Sure. Has it been
A hundred years
Inside this gilded cage?

Dianne Lowe Breakfield