In celebration of National Poetry Month in April, the library held a poetry contest for youth ages 10 – 18. We so enjoyed reading the creative works of our budding local poets.
Owen M., age 11
A world without doors would be pretty nice
It would let in the sunshine and all of the mice
We would feel the comforting woosh of the breeze
And the buzz of the territorial bumblebees
The twitter of birds for our ears to hear
Along with a herd of thundering deer
The scent of fresh flowers floating in the air
And a pungent and curious rummaging bear
Doors, you will see, are unnecessary
Let everything in, beneficial and scary
Owen M., age 11
The first intimation is her soft breeze
Its sharp chill pushes you close to the hearth
Outside a cry of warning from the trees
Summer has already become a wraith
The hearth crackles as summers ghost appears
He likes to tell tales that make you look back
But frost on the ground reminds winter nears
And your home- your refuge- begins to crack
Winter sends her snow to keep you enclosed
In despair the ghost of summer departs
Biter cold and isolation imposed
but death, too, has an equal counterpart
Peeking through the snow a bright daffodil
Casting off Mother Winter’s final chill
Grace W., age 12
Daylight creeps, slow breaths, it has be. Each noise freaks me out. Outside, the clucking of chickens, wondering where I am. I tiptoe to the window, Bec’s out of sight. When I turn the girl has an eye watching, she says nothing, one eye on me. I look down at my hands, what happens now? I begin, then stop. “Are you lost?” It’s stupid, she’s not lost. A girl doesn’t leave her house, and end up on the southern coast of western Australia. Footsteps come at us, Mia’s eyes widen, my doorknob rattles. “You in there?” “Yeah.” “Why is the door locked?” Sheets are wrapped tight around the girl who’s eyeing the window as an escape route. “Even God rested on a Sunday.”
Sisters Through The Hours
Sofia R., age 13
The moment light stretched across the sky,
I knew we’d never say goodbye.
Advancing by every hour,
Was a tornado sweeping by.
You and I had a laugh *haha*, scream, and cry,
Just like rain falling on a beautiful flower
One day while standing at 308 I knew,
That no matter where I go,
I will always know:
That each of us is half of one another,
And we can’t live without each other.
So one day when calm colorful colors is all I see,
I know you’ll be full of glee.
And after our long and hectic hours and hours and hours,
We will be sipping tea and chatting with glee.
Suddenly I will say…
Our childhood was like a growing tree.
And on that final day when the light dances away,
I will be there to save the day.
The Cost of Loyalty
Mary W., age 15
I was holding open. My heartbeat quickens, what about my friends? Her hands behind her back, creatures within brush us. My loyalty is misplaced. Roles reversed. Your friends have power. I want to leave.