Chris Paul
Filed under: Authors
Chris may, most days, be found wandering the necropolises of the Tantramar area, roving amid the tombs of the humble and of the mighty. There in the midst of death he ponders mortality, accompanied only by his Muse of Melancholy, his faithful crowbar named "Delilah". Together they seek new poetic inspirations, yearning especially to find the resting place of his homeland's most beloved Victorian poet, Sir Charles G.D. Roberts. When he at long last locates that hallowed spot, he will be able to pour out his pent-up libations of grateful tears upon the great man's sepulchre, and gnaw upon his sacred bones, while chanting lines of Roberts' immortal ode to pumpkins: "Purple the narrowing alleys stretched between/The spectral shooks, a purple harsh and cold,/But spotted, where the gadding pumpkins run..."
Winning Entry: Gerry Sears
Contest Won: Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest 2006, Honorable Mention
