Here are the winning entries:
High School Category Winners
Nikole Blowers
11th grade
Make a Wish {Blow a Kiss}
Nonliving gusts give life to lifeless flora, dispersing diminutive seeds like little
parachutes. Once attached to a safe and known identity, now propelled into a journey of
flight, their destination remains unknown. Alone and vulnerable, some never make it.
Some safely land, establishing roots and a presence.
In the absence of a mother
they are nurtured by nature.
Light and water give them life without living.
The sun gives yet loses nothing.
It returns day after day never to die;
said to be finite, seemingly limitless.
The seeds of future generations, whisked away by the wind because their mother is past
her days when although not wanted, at least had beauty.
Now grey, weak, and helpless, she has
no importance,
no more influence,
no more power then a young and tender human mother forced by an unforgiving society to
give her newborn child into unfamiliar hands.
The woman gives life not unlike the flower.
Each powerless-
Each aching from a loss-
they are equals.
But if they are equals then how can a woman pluck the remaining life from a flower
when a flower can’t take that same gift from her?
It is because of size; the woman towered above the undersized flower which stood without
chance.
But if that were true, then a trivial worm would not be able to harm a woman. However, it
can eat her away, piece by piece, from the inside out until her heart no longer beats and
her blood no longer flows.
Then it is because of strength; the woman dispatched the flower with ease.
But if that were true then an ape would come out victorious in a battle of strength against
a beetle. Yet somehow the beetle can carry ten times its weight for miles, while the ape
moves not a step.
Then if not because of size or strength, how can she do it?
How can she be so insensitive?
Is it fair to take the seeds away from their realm of safety; away from their giver of life,
and sacrifice them for a false hope of certainty?
I may not be fair but the girl is innocent, wishing only to meet her mother for the first
time.
How could she know that with each wish a seed surrenders?
So she closes her eyes, picturing a grow woman, a version of herself.
She wonders if the woman is real, if they will ever reunite.
She thinks her wish, blows a kiss, never to know where it will go.
Leah Wolfe
Homeschooled, 10th grade
I see the roses,
They climb along the garden wall;
Their fragrance sweet and calming.
They are beauty and grace
They nod so tenderly in the breeze.
I see the
He is kneeling in the moist soil,
His face shining as He speaks
Love drips from his hands,
As He tends to his beloved roses
His finger bleeds,
Yet he does not see it
He is so engrossed in His heavenly work
They bloom for Him and Him alone
It seems to me,
That they are his joy and delight,
Always I find Him smiling,
As He care for His blessed roses.
I look upon them,
Longing with all my heart,
That I might be a rose.
Would then the
I am not a rose,
I am not so sweet or delightful,
He does not lovingly care for me,
As He does for His roses
I am insignificant,
Only a lily, white and small
I bloom and yet He comes not
He does not lavish praise unto my ear.
It is evening now,
The moon bathes us
Its brilliant light like milk flowing over
Onto the garden life.
The
His son is by his side
Silent are they as they behold
The divine spectacle of life
“Thy roses bloom most beautifully”
Said he; the son
“They are the very delight of Heaven”
The
“They are beautiful, it is true,
But no flower in my eyes is more than any other.
See my white lily?
Her perfume is entrancing
Her beauty pure and unmarked.
I placed her purposely here,
So as I sit and gaze at my garden
She stands out among them,
Little she may be,
But also delight to unto my eyes.
Each flower has a place in my heart,
Though some need more care,
None do I love more than another.”
The
Did I hear that right?
My
I am beautiful?
I am pure?
He does love even me?
Yes it is true,
The
Though some need more care,
He doesn’t love those any more than I.
I am my
Elizabeth Carro
9th grade
Time
I see him lying on the bed I sit next to,
He holds my hand as I stroke his.
As I look into his deep brown eyes,
the only thing that hasn’t changed,
I ask if he remembers the first day we met.
When he says, “no,” I feel one of my last tears slide out of my bloodshot eye,
down my wrinkled cheek,
and over my faded lips.
It makes him forget.
It is my enemy…
I tell him that when I was nine and he was ten, I was at the pier fishing with my dog.
My line got a knot in it, and in the process of fixing it, I got tangled up, and fell into the deep water of the lake.
I couldn’t swim.
I couldn’t breathe.
I saw a light, and then it faded to darkness.
I woke to his face lying in the fresh grass beside me.
It made sure he was there.
It saved my life.
It was my friend…
I turn to his eyes again.
They make another tear fall, and follow the same path as the first.
The tear reminds me what time had been like…
could have been like…
should have been like…
Now focusing on his face, I hope to see one with some recollection of this joyous memory.
All I see is a face like my dog’s- his eyes large and melancholy, his nose scrunched up, and his head cocked to the side.
A final tear creeps out of my eye, but this time his soft, trembling thumb stops it, and brushes it off my face,
questioning why I had been crying.
I can’t tell him.
It makes him forget.
It is my enemy.
I wish I could’ve stopped time there, there in the memory…
When the sun shined, and when it was filled with the happiness and innocence of our childhood,
because at this time, he doesn’t know who I am.
I’m the person who takes care of him when he’s sick, and holds his hand when he’s scared, and lies next to him at night.
I’m the one who he shared those memories with…
that Time gave us,
and that Time took away.
Honorable Mention
Sara Palmisano
10th Grade
Watch Me Dance
The beat of the music whispers to me.
The soothing melody beckons to me.
The beating of the drums call to me.
The sound of the horns yell to me.
My foot begins to tap.
My mind begins to think.
My body begins to move.
My spirit begins to soar.
I find my pace to the music.
I find my place in the song.
I find my feelings in the drum.
I find my story in the melody.
My arms are stretched.
My lungs are filled.
My feet are blistered.
My toes are pointed.
I dance through pain.
I dance through joy.
I dance through the anger.
I dance through calm.
For a moment everything is perfect.
For a moment everything is right.
For a moment everything is clear.
For a moment everything is true.
I live for this moment.
I live in this moment.
I live because of this moment.
I live according to this moment.
If you want to see me happy,
If you want to see me alive,
If you want to see me passionate,
If you want to see me shining,
If you want to see me…
Watch me dance.
Honorable Mention
Rayanna Chambers
10th Grade
Love, Love, Love
The universal language of love,
Means to adore one another forever,
To feel and to care from the heart,
Sharing from the soul, not just a kiss,
For someone else to be your inspiration,
For two souls, it sounds like music.
At some point, everyone hears the music,
For the Spanish it is amor,
Artists say it is their inspiration,
And their admiration lasts forever,
In a painted kiss,
Given and taken from the heart.
When you share your heart,
You feel the music,
Embraced in a kiss,
The French say amour,
Lasts forever,
And the beautiful language is their inspiration.
Unspoken words become your inspiration,
Tenderness granted from the heart,
The physical side won’t last forever,
It’s a complicated expression like music,
The Italians call it amore,
And it is so much more than a kiss.
To kiss or not to kiss,
Sharing with some one is an inspiration,
In
We feel more than a beat from the heart,
A song that is not just music,
Will it last forever?
For some, it is a long time, that forever,
It is more than just a kiss,
Some people hear the music,
But it is not their inspiration,
Sharing with too many, their tender little hearts,
Like going Dutch on feelings, they call it liefde.
For the luckiest, it does last forever love is their inspiration,
From a kiss, feeling with your heart,
Like music, it carries through the air, like rakkaus (Finnish).
Middle School Category Winners
Paige Gagliardi
7th Grade
A Child’s Joy
Let your hair fall down,
Feel the breeze,
Have not a single care in the world
As a child dazed by the world’s wonder.
Let laughter spill from your tongue,
And happiness radiate from your skin.
Let the wind caress your cheek,
Or even blow you down,
And when it does,
Laugh absentmindedly.
Hum a happy tune
Then sing as if no one is listening.
Let rain splash down upon you,
And smile as each drop hits you.
Do not let your young heart be consumed by sorrow.
The world is too wondrous for sorrow.
Stop and stare at a star’s brilliant light,
And watch the grass grow,
The clouds roll by,
Or a flower bloom.
Marvel at water’s strange beauty,
And listen as it gently laps against the shore.
Listen for a bird’s song,
A beat of a butterfly’s wing,
Or a crack of thunder.
Listen,
Listen,
Listen if you can not hear,
And rhyme words that never rhyme.
Run if you have no legs,
Scream if you have no voice,
See if you have no sight,
Pray if you have no faith,
Paint if you have no color,
Dream if you have no hope,
And dance for joy.
A child’s joy,
For the world is a wondrous place.
In a child’s eyes,
The world is irresistibly perfect in every way.
In a child’s eyes,
Nature’s beauty is astounding,
Nature’s simple gifts.
A child teaches us this:
We need to cherish nature’s simple gifts,
And cherish each day as if it were our last,
Making the best of every day by
Forgiving the unforgiven,
Loving the unloved,
Caring for the ones in need.
One voice may be strong,
But when another voice is added,
The voices build,
And build,
Until the voices become the most beautiful song ever sung.
Listen,
Listen,
Listen for a song of a child’s joy
And the wondrous world around us.
Kelsey Towne
6th Grade
Sand
The most casual,
everyday encounters
are the ones to be relished,
the ones often held closest to the heart
by those with
nothing
but
memories
left:
dinner with a loved one,
exchanges of mock-hostile words between a rival
(which is simply a code for friend),
the seemingly insignificant moments
that
slip
between
the cracks
of
scrambling
fingers
when they are
again
longed
for…
to hold on to such memories
is to be human,
to lust for simpler times
is to be a child,
but
to relives one’s mot beloved moments
is a miracle.
Lauren Bates
8th Grade
You say I should follow my dreams; but what if I get lost?
You say I should live for today and deal with my decisions tomorrow; but what if I throw my tomorrow away?
You say I should smile and make everyone’s day better; but what if I need someone to smile at me?
You say I should be the bigger person; but what if I’m too small?
You say I shouldn’t judge; but what if judging is human nature?
You say I should put a good foot forward; but what if I go backwards?
You say I should always try my best; but what if I’m still not good enough?
You say I should believe in things that no one can see; but what if they really aren’t there?
You say I should shoot for the stars; but what if I miss and land on the moon?
You say I should shine; but what if I’m too dull?
You say I should always trust; but what if I’m naïve?
You say a lot of things; but I am going to be who I want to be, and that person is myself.
Honorable Mention
Sierra Russell
6th Grade
Our River
A creek,
little but strong,
it pushes on
under ice
around snow
Cold wind ripples the water,
already bubbling and gurgling
as
it
flows
The snow
covers the ground around the
little creek
It will someday melt and
Join the creek
Its fate has been determined
No question.
What about you?
And me?
What creek will we join?
And can we
make it stronger?
All of us
Can create
A river
Honorable Mention
Reece Balicki
8th Grade
A
Life is like a pebble filled with joy and sadness,
Dropped into a lake filled with mystery and awe,
Down it goes.
It reaches the bottom expecting sorrow and despair,
But finds itself surrounded by faith and hope.
What I am is what I am.
What you think I am, I am not.
For I shall be the lake and you the pebble, my gem loved and cherished by all.
Floating down never to return again.
Into mystery.
Into me.
You may wonder what the pebble found.
Maybe what I am,
Or just maybe who it was,
In my lake that tells all.
All you need to do is be my pebble to find out what you truly are.
For I am my lake and you are my all.
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