The Art of Music Annual Writing Contest: 2006 Winners
First Place Winner - Ruth Rotkowitz
"Three-Part Harmony"
Ruth Rotkowitz is a freelance writer residing in New Jersey. She has published nonfiction in "Chicken Soup for the New Mom's Soul," "Chicken Soup for the Sister's Soul 2, Expecting," and "The Woman's Newspaper of Princeton," where she was a staff writer and member of the editorial board. One of her articles received a first-place award in feature writing from the National Federation of Press Women. She has published poetry in Piano Press, Hopscotch, and Shemom. She has completed two novels and begun work on a third. She is also an English teacher, and has taught on both the college and high school levels, in New York and New Jersey. She currently tutors English at The Tutoring Club in Marlboro, New Jersey.
THREE-PART HARMONY
Shrill, insistent voices
Blast the air,
Staccato notes making demands;
With youthful impatience,
They question the horizon,
And explore their range and pitch.
Three little beaks poke from the nest,
Pointing smooth brown tips upward
As they squawk their needs
And proclaim their existence
To the sweet blue sky.
A nearby branch suddenly quivers beneath the weight
of rotund Mama and nervous Papa.
Three baby beaks open wide to receive
Their slithery meal,
And the choral performance is halted
Only to resume moments later,
Broadcasting joyful cadences of satisfaction,
High-pitched glee floating outward in a contented trill.
A camera or a pair of human eyes
Comes too close.
Mama zooms back,
Shoves her babies down, parks herself on top.
Three wondering voices silenced.
Papa hovers above
Glaring.
Okay, we get it. Sorry.
Mama and Papa, mollified, fly off
And our a capella group is back,
The same motif
In increased tempo:
Feed me! Love me! Hear me sing!
We, the audience, will cheer
When they take their first shaky flights,
Knowing they will take one big one
And never return.
Leaving the still air
Reverberating with their final crescendo.
© Ruth Rotkowitz
All Rights Reserved. Not For Duplication Without Permission.
Second Place Winner - Karen Benedetto
"A Pencil and A Pad" ("The Songwriter Song")
Karen Benedetto has been a poet as far back as she can remember, when, at an early age, she taught herself guitar and
put her poems to music. Her work has been recognized in a number of international songwriting competitions and
professional showcases. Her debut songwriter CD, "Right From the Start…the Songs of Karen Benedetto" is a
various-artists recording that includes a range of musical styles from cabaret, pop ballads, and novelty material,
through folk, country, and inspirational/gospel selections. Singers from the NYC Cabaret, Broadway, and Concert stages
interpret the seventeen songs in the collection, with two selections on the CD performed by Karen herself. "The Call,"
written in response to 9/11, received radio air-play both across the U.S. and abroad. This powerful and timeless anthem
of healing and unity has had a part in numerous live commemorative events in churches, spiritual centers, and civic
gatherings, and has been heard on sev-eral occasions at the United Nations. "The Perfect Gift," a unique way of looking
at Christmas with love as the perfect offering, is part of "A Holiday Sampler" CD as well as of "Holiday Heart," a
Hospice benefit recording. "Southern Rains," written in response to Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, is part of a Red Cross benefit recording produced and performed by vocalist Pamela Palmieri. A member of the performing rights organization ASCAP, Karen presently has thirteen songs out with publishers in Nashville, Philadelphia, and Michigan. She is honored to be recognized for "A Pencil and A Pad" ("The Songwriter Song") in Piano Press's 6th Annual Art of Music Writing Contest. Thank you, Liz, for all of your wonderful and inspiring work! Karen can be reached at BenedettoBarlow@IntheFlowMusic.com and through her web site www.KarenBenedettoSongs.com.
A PENCIL AND A PAD
(THE SONGWRITER SONG)
She wanted to be someone else, live someone else's life,
So she hid in other families for years.
And you never got to know her well.
She never let you in.
To the place that held her dreams and her fears.
She never really smiled,
Seemed quiet and withdrawn,
And it looked to the outside world
Like all her hope was gone.
But always in her pocket were A PENCIL AND A PAD.
And she knew she had a place to go
When things were goin' bad.
She would write a song, and the pain would disappear.
She would write a song, then everything was clear.
Her heart could sing. Her soul took wing.
She always had a feeling
That her songs were not her own,
That they had a greater purpose than she knew.
And in her heart she realized
Her life would have to change
So she could do the work she had to do.
Her music was the key to everything inside.
The more she played, the more she knew
She could no longer hide.
And though it seemed her life
Wouldn't turn out like she planned,
She knew she had the gift to heal
Right there in her hand.
She would write a song that someone else would hear.
And somehow that song would release them from their fear.
Their hearts could sing. Their souls take wing.
And though they wouldn't know who wrote the song with so much caring,
They'd know it was a gift of love another soul was sharing.
She would write a song, and the pain would disappear.
She would write a song, then everything was clear.
Her heart could sing. Her soul took wing.
Her heart could sing. Her soul took wing…
© Karen Benedetto (ASCAP)
All Rights Reserved. Not For Duplication Without Permission.
Third Place Winner - Dennis Norville
"Hymns of Home"
Dennis Norville is owner of a poetry business in North Carolina called Poetic Potpourri Concepts. He has written some 800 poems and songs. He has been published 200 times and has won 150 contest awards, including many first, second, and third-place winnings. He is author of ten books and his poetry is circulated in all 50 states of the USA and in five foreign countries as well. He spends his spare time playing the piano and guitar, singing, hiking, and mountain biking.
HYMNS OF HOME
My final days might be spent with my head
Pressed to a pillow, me confined to bed:
If I lie, waning, just before I'm dead,
Please gather 'round me: bring the doghouse bass,
And take the flattop guitar from its case;
And while you're standing near, before my face,
The mandolinist plucking on his strings,
The five-string banjo blending as it rings,
And as the vocalist so sweetly sings,
Don't sing the fine folk ballads for me then,
Or greatest classics scribed by gifted men, . . .
Of all the many genres man may pen,
The sacred ones are what I'll need to hear:
Sing me to sleep with hymns of hope and cheer:
Let songs of heaven fill the atmosphere.
© Dennis Norville
All Rights Reserved. Not For Duplication Without Permission.
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