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 Dream Quest One
First Poetry Prize Winner - SUMMER 2017
of Rochester Hills, Michigan - USA

“Calendar Year”

By Haley R. Stone


My boy tastes like gasoline,

Through the grit and metal

Of his miffed mild smoke

A cigarette sits loose on the lips-


My boy sheds his skin: Reptile,

A bonafide bad boy: an O’phile

With more bone breaks in his body than you’ve got bones

And enough embers in his eyes to keep us alive for a while-


My boy sips, silently smirking sitting

South of my Northern pull to him

Dancing careless across his room it

Smells like stale beer, and my perfume-


My boy cries himself to sleep,

Cries when he thinks of Him, of Her, what was,

Could have been, he cries over posed posies and

Album releases, over used needles and repressed

Releases, when he thinks of me-


My boy doesn’t shed a tear.

 My boy knows I'm the important date on his calendar year.


#   #   #

By Haley R. Stone

About the poet:

One thing most people are quite shocked by is that my father runs a cult. He has written books about this cult, books on him, a hero saving each and every Earth he believes in. While I am no longer a member and while my father does not speak to me, he always instilled a great sense of the importance of creative writing in me. He, along with my teachers in the Creative And Performing Arts program really helped set me on my path to my love of words. Poetry is one thing I will never give up, it is a form of daily expression, and you wouldn't go and give up your smile now, would you? ~Haley R. Stone