2023 Poetry Contest Winners

Tiny white mushrooms
Children yelling
and running
Soft flexible flower petals
Sap flows
Maple Sap-
soon it will be
sticky super sweet syrup
Yellow flowers bloom
Warm breezes swooshing.

The sunshine lights up the flowers.
The sunshine wakes up the birds.
The sunshine blooms the trees.
The sunshine becomes a moon.
The moon shines on the house
The moon shines on the cars.
The moon shine becomes a sun.
The sunshine lights up our new day.

The End.

Why is the world so big?
Why is the world so round?
Why is the world even here?
It’s all a mystery.
Why is summer hot?
Why is winter cold?
Why are there even seasons at all?
I may never know.
Why did I ever write this poem?
So why was I ever born?
Life holds so much more than what’s in the near future.
Wonder awaits!

When on the breaking bench
When hearing boink, screech
When it felt like seven hours
When looking at people on the court having fun
Finally, my name was called
Went out on the court
Got the basketball
Time was ticking
Shot was took
“Errrrrrr” buzzer beater
Shot made crowd goes wild

I always ask, “Mother, mother,
How does this work?”
“Mother, mother, please help me with this.”
But I never get a response.
I wonder why.
So, I ask again,
“Mother, mother, why don’t you answer me?”
But still, no response.
I wonder if she can hear me?

High on the mountain, a meadowlark,
enthralled by the beauty, bursts forth and sings.
All around the mountain his glorious voice rings.

But now the sun is obliterated by clouds and thunder
crashes in a cacophony of noise and the rain comes down
and drenches the poor meadowlark and he takes refuge
under a tree.

First there was nothing
A blank page
Waiting to be a story
A story of dragons, of princesses, and lost princes
Or maybe it’s a story of change, of patience

It could be a pair of wings
Flying you somewhere new
Somewhere no one else has been

It could give hope, or give comfort
It could change you, or strengthen you
It could tell truth, make people see the past all the lies

It could help save lives
Fix things that are broken
Mend the torn
Cure the sick

All on a single page of blank paper a better world could be formed

I remember
The nervous feeling
Of stepping through
My new school’s
2nd grade door
To find a happy blond,
Waiting for me,
With a voice like honey.

I remember
Taking a bow in costume
With the audience cheering
And crying
For me
And some of
My best friends.

I remember
The bitter sensation of jealousy
Turn into
The strongest feeling
Of love
For a new friend.

I remember
Holding a new baby,
Not then aware
That
The rest of my days
Would be spent with her,
Laughing,
Playing,
Talking.
I remember.

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
so that I can see
the rain outside
crying
the tears I cannot

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
so that I can see
the clouds outside
expressing the anger
that I cannot

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
so that I can see
the plants outside
quivering with the nervousness
that I cannot

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
so that I can see
the wind outside
roaring it’s opinions
that I cannot

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
so that I can see
the birds outside
speaking the words
That I cannot

I am glad
that my seat
in the classroom
faces the window
but I’m not sure
how much longer
I can
hold back the tears
resist the anger
calm the nervousness
stifle my opinions
mute the words

Someday
I hope
I have the courage
the strength
to let them all
come rushing out

Night has swallowed the day; the sun has sunk
Into the pitch, that which bleeds from pines or
Bubbles up black from hidden faerie fonts,
The steaming blood of the green-girdled earth.
And yet just as he has left, he returns,
First fixing his rays upon the flat yew,
Then the bare-branched oak, cloaked in pure white snow.
Next, he graces the holly, setting the
viridian twigs aglow with life’s light.
How beautiful the song! We run to greet him,
And we rejoice as he chases away
Those dark, ice-fanged wolves of winter’s zenith.

As I look around me,
I see legs bouncing.
I hear sighs from overworked,
overwhelmed,
overstressed students.
Students biting their nails,
tapping their pencils,
fidgeting with whatever they can,
to help relieve their stress and anxiety.
Students with newly-ironed clothes,
hair perfectly in place,
with their shoes tied and backpacks organized,,
making it seem as though they have their life together.
But, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
If you took a look into their minds,
you’d see how scary of a place it really is.
Constant thoughts of not being smart enough,
being too poor,
or not being pretty enough.
Weighing too much
or too little.
Just simply not being good enough.
Not being the “perfect” idea of what you should be,
and what you should look like that society has created.
Questioning if anything about them is good enough.
“They’re just kids,”
What did they do to deserve this?

Among the foggy mist of morning
Along the beach, a woman stands
Darkened eyes to match her hair
Scans the sand for someone
Who? She doesn’t know
Sits on cold sand
Silently
Waiting
Still