The talented and courageous are encouraged to enter the magazine's arts competition.

The talented and courageous are encouraged to enter the magazine’s arts competition.

There is ONE WEEK left for Arizona lawyers to submit to our annual Creative Arts Competition. But because the holidays are so crazy, why not submit now, rather than on the evening of January 15, the deadline?

We welcome entries in the following categories:

  • Fiction
  • Nonfiction
  • Poetry
  • Humor
  • Music
  • Visual Arts: Painting, Photography, Drawing, Sculpture

We will publish the winners in the May 2018 issue.

Send submissions to and queries to the editor at

And do you like reading rules? We’ve got them.

For inspiration, here is last year’s issue with the 2017 awesome winners.

2018 Creative Arts Competition call for artists

Hon. Ralph G. Smith

At the end of November, the legal and arts community lost a champion of both when Hon. Ralph Smith passed away.

Here at Arizona Attorney Magazine, we knew him mainly as the judge who won—twice—in our annual Creative Arts Competition. Not only that, he did so in two categories.

His April 2005 winner was in Nonfiction. His essay titled “In Praise of City Court” told us a lot about the author: humorous, generous and courteous. You can read that story here.

Then, in May 2010, he wowed us again by taking top honors in our Poetry category. You can read his entries here.

But, in case you don’t click, here are two of his pieces. Rest in peace, Judge.

The Pas De Deux Café

I am at the Pas de Deux Café, the Green House,

In time for the matinee ballet.

Shelly, the prima ballerina,

slim and blonde, makes her entrance,

(to my silent but appreciative applause),

Through the kitchen’s swinging doors,

To the cacophonous music of forks on plates.

She threads her way with dips and pirouettes

Executed with grace and authority,

around the tables and the chairs,

past the other ballerinas, and does a pas de deux

with Sandra, who approaches from the outside patio.

Shelly takes my order,

bending down with a friendly smile,

then pirouettes once more,

and disappears backstage.

The cacophony rises to a crescendo,

and the prima ballerina again emerges,

with tray held on high, as she dips and whirls,

and deftly opens the glass door to the patio

with a provocative bump of  her firm derriere,

never missing a beat of the music playing in my head.

Dance, ballerina, dance!

It was the performance of my day.

Torta En Toluca

Pretty as she was,

It was not Carlota that I remember so clearly,

On that sunny Mexican morning

On the plaza in Toluca, with the smell

Of charcoal in the air, grilling the chorizo, on market day

And the Indians sitting by their shaded lean-tos,

With the fruits and vegetables and that

Wonderful pottery with the black and yellow designs

Spread out around them.

No—It was the sandwich that she fixed

From a can of tuna she had brought along,

And mayo, and avocado, from those small

Purple aguacates that she got there in the market,

That taste so good when

Spread on a bolillo or telera, the buns

She bought for ten centavos from

The old lady with the basketful, and

Prepared while we sat on the hard bench

In the plaza, happy, laughing at each other

And devouring the impromptu tortas which were

Delicious, and matched our mood.

Yes, she was pretty, and perhaps it was her

Laugh, her smile, her tousled hair that overcame

The beauty of her being, the totality,

Which are like the things we cannot see

While looking into the sun.

But the sandwich I remember, and the sunny day.

And our happiness and laughter, all delicious.

Herodatus was right—you can never step into the same river