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First Place S-l Grades 1 and 2 Max Burtis Center for Teaching and Learning Edgecombe, ME The Stream I gaze down from my perch on the bank of the stream. I stare down at the clear, cold water. Beaneath the surface I see small pebbles, green plants waving, larger stones that mark the shore line. I hear the water flowing over tiny falls I am hypnotized. Then, suddenly, I hear the crack of a branch, and the moment is broken. ________________________________________________ First Place S-2 Grades 3 and 4 Andrew Nelin Red Mill Elementary School Virginia Beach, VA New York City She bites a big apple, listens to music, sees a Broadway show, hears ships docking, goes out to dine, spends a lot of time shopping, listens to the sound of cash registers, and takes the subway back home. ________________________________________________ First Place S-3 Grades 5 and 6 Brian Tran Kenmore Middle School Arlington, VA Beginning to End Dawn awakens to the tall large buildings and fresh nature Morning reminds me to start my day and scurry out of my home like a hamster in an exercise ball The sky looks at me while I walk to the bus stop and experience the crisp fresh air, the conversations of people, noises from cars, and the nature swaying around me Throughout the day the sun shows brightness and smiles at me as time goes by Night brings calmness to end the day It is millions of black birds filling the sky Moon remembers every event that happened this very day as she tells the little starlings who listen to the bedtime story. ________________________________________________ First Place S-4 Grades 7 and 8 Gabby Kozub St. Gregory the Great School Virginia Beach, VA Muy Caliente A concrete poem It flows down my throat like a salsa dancer. Its spiciness & tanginess seem to melt into my esophagus the way a dancer would melt into her music. The red notes of it seem to scream to me like a megaphone. It spices up my day like a bushel of peppers. jEs muy, muy caliente! Mexican food is not just a cuisine, it's a lifestyle. Pow! My tortilla is a blanket of spiciness. Man, this is great stuff. It's as hot as the sun. I could eat it all day. Every bite is a mir- acle. It's spicy, tasty, & tangy in one bite. This is a passion! ________________________________________________ First Place S-5 Grades 9 and 10 Tina Miller Ransom Everglades School Coconut Grove, FL Grandmother, I watched you color paper butterflies. Intricately cut, they flew to the woven-corn sky of your dusty temple: fluttering at the tissue windows, trapped behind the lacquer of ancient accordion walls. Grandmother, your hands were raw eggs and your eyes were two sparrows, your back sweetly curved like a harp. While my mother added mirin to the sticky rice of all your memories I was the wind in the room. ________________________________________________ First Place S-6 Grades 11 and 12 Linda Zou Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology Fairfax, VA An obituary you were not there hospitals bleach you out of your own skin you imagine her voice mimed flatlined age or spices opened in full pauses she would say baby how you've grown in sounds shaped like the bony tremble of her hands by now you forget the woman who let you hold worlds in your palms and lick your fingers clean you love her like how you love a name like how you keep faces in the sentimental corner of your eye waiting for them to focus the people you regret- they live behind the click of your teeth until you spit the words out like strangers you were not there you have always hated waiting rooms ________________________________________________ First Place S-7 Community College Heather Matthews Rappahannock Community College Glenns, VA Sunday In a black head scarf and long sleeves I experience God a sea of caps and skirts brown and black and white, doctrine and gospel music scratching at the mosquito bite beneath the long socks I am wearing so my ankles won't show. People sway and moan and shake with Spirit and I pray humble holy like they do, bend low on my knees and put my head in the lap of Jesus and when I get up I pull the head scarf down further on my forehead so I won't look funny and we worship and then in the car on the way home whipping past blue sky green grass creation inspiration I pull down my hair; curls flop golden free down my back and the jacket comes off and I have arms fleshy curving white, and kicking off my shoes and socks my ankles peek out, little sinners and laughing I close my eyes and thank the God who loves me just the way 1 am ________________________________________________ Poetry Society Prize Annika Jenkins Home/Independent Study Virginia Beach, VA A Newborn Season My bare feet wrinkle the soft blanket of new grass as I pad across the meadow a porch swing creaks somewhere in another world through fresh tears of dew mother nature gently lifts and cradles a blushing pink face as a newborn blossom of spring smiles up at her. ________________________________________________ Jenkins Prize Shelby Cook Red Bank Regional HS Little Silver, NJ Dilemma I can't give you different I can't give you same I can't give you riches I can't give you fame I can't give you roses I can't give you rings I can't give you diamonds Or any nice things I can't give you honest I can't give you lies I can't give you senseless I can't give you wise I can't give you broken I can't give you whole I can't make you suffer For a piece of my soul I can't give you more I can't give you less I can't give you no I can't give you yes I can't make you stay But I can't set you free So I'll give you my heart And its only spare key ________________________________________________ Virginia Student Prize Joseph Makhal St. Christopher’s Richmond, VA Poem Beginning, ambiguous and subtle. Vague but captivating, Slow. Always a safe bet. Now I'm hooked. Move into the concrete. Colors here, sounds there. Generic metaphor teeters on cliche, when Unidiomatic becomes a blessing, the line is saved. Words mashed now. Pace quickens, action hurries. Crash. Bang. Stuns the reader. Should he pose a question now? Some idea of what is happening, but line Breaks throw out the rhythm. Another subtle rhyme Just in time to recapture focus. Wait, go back. Right there, that line break! I didn't even notice it the first time. The last part ties in to the beginning. It's a stretch, but trust the reader. Appeal to the senses. Another color. Ah, I see what he did there. Wow. Poetry is, like, a whole different language. |
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