Vote

Author of the Month

Authors are nominated based on this Weighted Guideline:
55% Website Readership Popularity
20% Monthly Publications
15% Social Media Impressions
10% Overall User Activity (Website and Social Media Engagement)
The voting will begin on the 26th of each month at 12:00am Easter Time
The voting will last for 4 Days
Authors and Members will have the opportunity to VOTE 1 time per registered user
Users have to be logged in to be able to vote
The Winner will be announced soon after the voting has been completed
The Winner will be featured on the sidebar of Spillwords.com during the entire following month

Publication of the Month

Publications are nominated 100% based on the popularity within the last 30 days
The voting will begin on the 26th of each month at 12:00am Eastern Time
The voting will last for 4 Days
Authors and Members will have the opportunity to VOTE 1 time per registered user
Users have to be logged in to be able to vote
The Winner will be announced soon after the voting has been completed
The Winner will be featured on the sidebar of Spillwords.com during the entire following month

Ger White

Gerardine White (mostly called Ger) grew up in wild open country of West Limerick, Ireland. Her country life is represented in her poems and has a strong bearing on her core values and education. She inherited the skill of poetic rhyme from both of her parents and her Grandad – who were all fine poets and storytellers. Her education took place mostly in South West Ireland and the rest of it is gleaned from travel, from life, and from being an avid reader of all kinds of books. In recent years she has returned to poetry writing. This past year seeing her published in four Anthologies from Clarendon House Publications. She sees herself as a Spiritual person, very connected with life in all forms. She is happily married for past 20 years and currently lives in Sussex, UK. She enjoys healthy pursuits of country walks with a nice cuppa tea and chat at the end.

Resurrection by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

On the day that Budgie died, I was young and very sad. He was a pretty bird, always singing in his cage. Sometimes we let him out to fly around, and on that day, the curtains were wide open and he slammed into the glass hard. Momma put him into a shoe box and I cried as we buried him in the back garden among the lilies. The next morning, very early, I snuck out of the house and dug him up with a garden trowel because I wanted to see him one more time. When I took the lid off the shoe box, his eyes were open and his wings fluttered ...