Goldback Fern

by Bob Bradshaw
The Writer's Block
Second Place, February 2018
Judged by C. Wade Bentley


Under bay laurels we looked up
at insects flitting

through a lemony light.
In the distance sunlit clouds

brushed the grassy hills blond,
the way the goldback fern’s underside

leaves behind a yellow dusting.
You pressed one against my jeans,

a golden handprint on my right thigh.
We lingered, hiking slowly,

the moist fingers of ferns
stroking our wrists,

our arms. With narrow trails
I found easy excuses to brush

against you, carrying your scent
home with me.


I’m a sucker for a poet who wows me with close observation, who makes me see old things as new. Sex is heavy in the air, here, but it’s handled delicately, it’s understated, alighting on us as lightly as pollen. --C. Wade Bentley

  • June 2019 Winners

    • First Place

      Song for Picnic Ants
      by Andrew Dufresne
      Wild Poetry Forum

      Second Place

      Fragile
      by Kendall Witherspoon
      The Waters

      Third Place

      Good Friday, St. Peter’s Anglican, The East Bronx
      by Christine Potter
      The Waters

  • May 2019 Winners

    • First Place

      I think of the colour purple
      by Alison Armstrong-Webber
      The Waters

      Second Place

      Swimming in Twilight
      by Peter Halpin
      Wild Poetry Forum

      Third Place

      In another country with strangers
      by Greta Bolger
      The Waters