Grades 6-8 1st Place "Paris' Nights" by Heliose Thomas 2nd Place "A Girl" by Taylor King 3rd Place "Kampeco" by Sunny Jean Honorable Mention "Looking Through a Window" by Diane Jeon Honorable Mention "Blue" by Nathan Sikkema |
Grades 9-12 1st Place "The Night is a Mystic" by Elizabeth Gonzales 2nd Place "Always Happy Endings" by Kathleen Cifuentes 3rd Place "I am…" by Matthew McConnell Honorable Mention "What Poetry Isn't" by Elizabeth Lemon Honorable Mention "Who Am I?" by Kari DuFort |
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1st Place "Paris' Nights" Heliose T. | |
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Sitting, ankles crossed, At a small café table Outside | |
| On the sidewalk | The |
| Paris Night Coffee is served In a tiny china cup Cappuccino? | |
| Espresso scent | city |
| Coffee Night Under the cup, there's A tiny chipped plate On it two sugar cubes and | |
| A square of dark chocolate | is |
| Melting Night The waters of the Seine River Shimmer under the stars which Are sparkling diamonds on | |
| The navy blue of the firmament | quietly |
| Starry Night The Eiffel Tower's All lighted up like A lady ready for the ball | |
| Fireworks crackling in the distance | sleeping |
| Shining Night Cool summer breeze Ruffles locks on my forehead Cafés are still lighted up | |
| After darkness falls | under |
| Cool Night The Seine's a silver mirror where The refulgent moon shudders Thin mist is setting on | |
| The far end of the river | the |
| Misty Night The tall dark cypresses On the border of the Seine Wave their branches | |
| Soft rustling sound | bright |
| Secret Night On the end of the narrow street Lighted up by streetlights A band is playing | |
| Sounds like Paolo Conte's music | moon. |
| Jazzy Night | |
| Essence of Paris. | |
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2nd Place "A Girl" Taylor K. A girl is dreaming Of a place where she can sing. A girl is dreaming Of a place where she can dance. A girl is dreaming Of a place where there is no killing of people like her. A place where there is Happiness all around her. A place where there is no Fear. A memory of a girl Inside a camp Where there is barely any life. A camp where there is Killing of people like her. A camp where there is no Happiness all around her. A camp where there is Fear. And she is all alone. A girl is drifting To a place where she can sing. A girl is drifting To a place where she can dance. A place where there is No killing of people like her. A place where there is Happiness all around her. A place where there is no Fear. She awakes And knows It is only a dream. In memory of Anne Frank 1929-1945 |
| 3rd Place "Kampeco" Sunny J. |
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Come near, thy children, draw closer still For the lost time of Kampeco now I must fulfill A poor old woman's memory may fade, Yet the words upon my memory laid Has branded the day forever cold, Frozen still in time, never to be old Hush, now, as my voice grows weak, Listen from which these parched lips speak. How historians lament, off and so… About the lost village of Kampeco! That eerie night, which fate upon leered And that village of yonder somehow…disappeared. To take away life, joy, and mirth, When power on the sun, moon, planets, and earth Eclipsed together, as they lined, one by one To be shadowed behind the towering sun. Ah, as the scholars tell their theories again, As they guess of the mystery 'tween now and then, But I laugh at their tales, pieced together and torn While history ages, dies, and is born. They foolishly say also that none lived through: But I did; who now speaks to you. Perhaps fate put you here because only I know What truly happened to Kampeco. Fools are those who base their facts Upon lies which of truth all lacks: They base their tales on years long old And argue over tales again retold: And miss again what I seem to see: Are they sure of themselves as I am of me? An old woman's voice, oh child, is weary, The world, how it lives, is far too dreary: Draw near one last time, lean close to my ear, For this at last is what you will hear. As my hand trembles, its one last, And soon myself will be your past: I will tell you what the world refused to hear: And paid for its folly with years very dear: What the historians will never see The truth known only to you and me: But now as I leave, my voice near gone, Only you will know me, who the world wronged: This alone only you shall know: There is no village of Kampeco. |
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Honorable Mention "Looking Through a Window" Diane J. I look outside And what do I see? A breath of wind, The rustle of trees. I raise my head And look far beyond A group of clouds, Past the bright blue pond. The fair trees sway With buds hard and tight. The sun does shine A brilliant light. Flowers poke up From piles of dirt. Choking weeds grow- Intruders! Alert! The sweet grass glows With a tint of green. All is quite calm- All is serene. But trouble brews In today's fair skies. Look, as the wind Swoops with mighty cries! The trees tremble At its spiteful feet They clutch the sky- Clouds begin to weep. Flowers bow their heads As the gusts go on. The birds soon stop Their lovely, quiet songs. Many tears fall As trees scrape the sky. Clouds burst open! Stars begin to cry! Dark, angry lines Appear in the ground. Water collects In puddles, earth-bound. Perhaps it stopped A sudden start and end. Perhaps, maybe, It will come again. Who really knows? Buy you…and of course I. But only I know If the stars really cried. Or if the trees really Scraped the dark, dark sky. Who knows, really… But you and I? |
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Honorable Mention "Blue" Nathan S. Smooth billowing fish fins A stream that gurgles as it passes A deliciously fresh taste in my mouth Aromatic wild flowers in a mountain field Cools and calms the overheating mind |
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1st Place "The Night is a Mystic" Elizabeth G. There's something beautiful about the night When it wraps around the corner Like a black panther Stretching its velvet paws Silently padding into the darkness Winding around the window Until you only notice it When it has curled up To rest on your feet, Smooth as alpaca, combed silky soft Like an old friend coming to visit after many years Resting his hand upon yours, Is the touch of the deep. Raising the hand that held yours to gently brush the tear from your ashen cheek. The night is a mystic Gently teasing as to what tomorrow may hold How it romances your vision 'Til the sun seems too bright and glaring And you find yourself fonder of the gentle moon and Her loving caress. |
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2nd Place "Always Happy Endings" Kathleen C. I am a damaged good Rejected by customers, A toy on the shelf Ignored by the child. I am the clothing That went out of style, All of the choices That were not chosen. I am the cry, Unsoothed, unheard, The unread letter, Forgotten, alone. I'm the old chair Put out to the road, The runt of the litter, That still found a home. |
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3rd Place "I am…" Matthew M. |
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I am The laughter of a child, The scream of a madman, Fierce honor and lonely sorrow, An airborne contamination, |
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infectious, desirable. |
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I am A sphinx with no riddles, A desert waiting for the rain, A penny's worth of principles, prostituted in a wedding dress. |
| I am Strong. Noble. A boat struggling upstream. I am Despair. Exhausted. I curse my own oars. Like an ever turning clock, my hands bring me to the same hour over and over again. |
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I am NOT a hero. I am Not a demon. |
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I am fire and spirit, I am blood and ash. |
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A shield cracked down the center, A sword that has lost its edge, a crown with no throne. |
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I wander without destination… |
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Who am I? |
| I am unresolved. |
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Honorable Mention "What Poetry Isn't" Elizabeth L. Poetry is not life, But what you discover in it. Poetry is not the sun bursting through the clouds, But the hope that fills your soul. Poetry is not shiny jewelry and pretty flowers, But the one who gives them to you. Poetry is not a field of snow, But the soothing peace the silence brings. Poetry is not love, But how it overflows in your heart. Poetry is not music, But how each note shimmers inside you. Poetry is not friends, But how you cherish them. Poetry is not a vacation, But it's the memories made in your heart. Poetry is not your dream house, But the warmth you fill it with. Poetry is not your greatest passion, But how it makes you whole. Poetry is not simply words, But how the meaning touches your sprit. |
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Honorable Mention "Who Am I?" Kari D. Outside I am a brick wall Shielded by my honey roasted shell. I am a poncho Hiding from all of my rain. I am a filing cabinet Things are always shoved inside. Inside I am a lion Desperate for my prey. I am a child Searching for the light. I am a song Frozen in time, forever. In Between I am a tennis racquet. The ball is my eye. I am a pen Spilling out scribbles endlessly. I am a book Words dripping from each page. Me I am a kid, patiently waiting. I am a daughter, leading the way. I am a woman, soaring free. |