The August cS Award and the July cS Award Winner! Mike | August 2nd, 2012
Last summer, we announced that we would issue a monthly cS Award to honor quality work by designers and writers in the crowdSPRING community.
August cS Award
Last month was for the writers in the crowdSPRING community, this month we will celebrate designer participation and high-quality work – all at the same time! The August cS Award of $1,000 will be given to the Creative in design projects who participates in the largest number of projects while receiving receiving an average buyer score of 3.5 stars or better!
To be eligible, you must also participate in at least 10 projects (Design only) and submit at least 10 entries this month. In case of a tie, the award will go to the creative with the greatest number of individual submissions in August.
Good luck to everyone!
And now…. the July cS Award Winner….
If you recall, the July award was to go to the Creative who submitted the best poem to our Facebook or Twitter. We received so many great poems that making a choice was incredibly difficult. In the end we determined that one person would get the official cS Award as well as the $1,000 prize, but that we would honor two runners-up as well. All three poems are included below…
And now… we are thrilled to announce that the July $1,000 cS Award will go to aprilk10 for her poem “Scratch!” April is based in the United Sates, has been a crowdSPRING Creative since 2010, and has participated in over 300 projects of which she has won 18! She is a wonderful and active member of our community and we are proud to have her win our first “literary” award!
Scratch (by aprilk10)
suddenly shoots forward,
A powdered stick draws back—
How to Fetch Firewood (by netizenjane)
“It has become more dangerous to be a woman fetching water or collecting firewood than a fighter on the frontline.”
— UN Special Representative on Sexual Violence in Conflict, Margot Wallström, Feb 2012
The first thing you should do, Abidseun, is coat yourself with dust. Don’t forget that patch on your elbow, that strip of skin behind your ears. Here, darkness feeds on the dark.
When you walk, Abidseun, walk like you’ve been taught–straight and sharp. Don’t count clouds. Don’t kick stones. You should know better than to chase a little bug.
There isn’t much wood left to pick, I know. It takes so long for seed to become fire, and here, there is no water left for growing. So we look, Abidseun. Because crows feed on those who wait and mouths, in asking, end up dry.
And if in looking you find a stick in someone else’s hands, if in running you stumble on a stone, if in calling the answer stays stubborn and far, then that is the time to stare at the sky, Abidseun. That is the time to close your eyes.
As for me, from the moment your small light steps away to the moment you return (on your feet? on their backs?), I will be here, Abidseun, crouched on colorless soil, breath sharp as memory, praying for history to forget itself.
Creativity (by vuriko)
Mellow apple falls to the grass.
Grass accepts it gratefully and hides.
How to see the apple on the ground?