The Test of Time My father was a soldier who died heroically. This was just a story that Mom told to me. When her illness neared the end, the truth she let me see. The hero, not my father, she felt she had to flee. She moved to England from her college in the States. She felt much safer, far away, and just in case, To raise me by herself in this far off place. Soon the cancer would be too much for her to face. I am lonely, not alone, half a world away. I must be strong because I’ll meet my Dad one day. To Boston we would return, an arrangement was made. After all the heartache, that is where I stayed. I made a friend, he fit the part. He is really funny and he’s super smart. Would he find a way to help me mend my broken heart? We discussed a hundred ways and found a place to start. Before she passed away, she told me of his ways. He was a famous, handsome athlete from her college days. Boston is his town; it is where he lives and plays. I think she knew I’d find him, but, would she give me praise? I am mature beyond my years; I know more than I should. Of love and loss and basketball and on my ground I stood. If he would only listen, it would be so good. How I wish he’d change his mind, how I wish he would! He has so many questions, and tries to seem concerned. I can’t help but feel that I won’t get what I’ve yearned. A secret of a lifetime, a “whopper”, I have learned. Would I wreck this man who has never seemed so burned? I am lonely, not alone, half a world away. Even here in Boston, where I watch the Celtics play. I want to get to know him, but he keeps his heart at bay. Will he change his mind and talk to me today? I am mature beyond my years. Though I have cried so many tears. I have watched as he gets all the cheers. Sometimes, I can’t believe my ears!
He said that I’m not his, even with his smile. All that I can think is he must be in denial. I really want to get to know him, if only for a while. Am I supposed to put my feelings in a file? She told me that to tell him would be truly bad. All that it would serve would be to make me really sad. How can I explain it to the man I know as Dad? I don’t want to think that I would make my Mother mad. Soon, he tries to be sensitive to me in his busy life. He didn’t want a daughter and he doesn’t need a wife. I can see through his eyes, the tales of hurt and strife. I remind him of my mother; it cuts him like a knife. I had time to get to know him, time to heal the past. I will live forever knowing you’ll be my Dad at last. A love like we share today did not happen fast. Our lives have seen a miracle that, from above, was cast.
Haley Quinn
Colonial Middle School, 6th grade
Poetry based on a novel
MOON GIRL The moon swiftly and silently sweeps Through the silent black blanket of night The trees have halted their dancing And the wind has ceased its singing The night is quiet like the silence Of an abandoned soul that cannot speak. But not safe Oh no, the night is dangerous Even for the moon, the sun’s stepdaughter The comfort of lasting light has left them And all is still, deathly still She sprints through the thick fear Before it can encompass her Overtake her Capture her Like a firefly is taken captive By a little child Who wants light The mistress of the night runs In all her beauty and glory Her glowing body with soft pale light beams That shoot from the tips of her hair The light, flowing nightdress Does not comfort her trembling body The night’s servant’s dainty long legs barely touch The twisted, cold floor The trees do not awake with her breathing And the river doesn’t rustle with her steps She is careful Careful Careful The peasant girl rounds a terrifying corner She runs around the world As quick as a jackrabbit Runs from its predator Across the cackling desert where the prickling plants lay And the gangly stalks of the fields where the gleaming eyes of the nocturnes threaten to devour her light And the thin slits of the streets where the wayward people are awake and waiting Frightened and in danger
She bravely sheds her beams of milky rays Having to spread her light everywhere and every night She starts to shrink But it does not stop the brave knight She runs.
Dana Lotito Germantown Academy, 8th grade
Best Overall Poem
The Amazing Base
I get covered in mud; I’m a solid white square I get stepped on by people everywhere I have been stolen many times But the person who did this committed no crime Oh the pain I get from those tiny black spikes Unless the runners obtain three strikes The career I have chosen is the thing I do best My guardian is a man with a silky black vest When the rain falls hard my friends and I disappear The fans in the stand shed unimaginable tears I don’t know why you would pay to see Twenty-some people step on me You ask what I am and you will see I’m a base on a diamond as tough as can be I get covered in mud, I’m a solid white square I get stepped on by people everywhere
Bryan Hoffman Colonial Middle School, 6th grade
Personification Poem
A Walk Through The Forest As I step on the leaves they crunch and crack in pain. As I watch the river swerve it reminds me of an old man’s cane. I can see the leaves cascade to the ground, As I hear the wind whistle loudly in sound. As I look at the bark I can taste burnt toast. Then as I look at the tall tree it reminds me of a light post. As I feel the gooey sap it is just like glue, I can then smell another tree being born a new. Here I behold a beautiful black crow. Its feathers are as sleek as the leaves of a willow. The crow is a kite steering through the sky, What a beautiful sight to see in my eye. I then watch the sunset up in a tree. Next I feel the sharp sting of a bumble bee. I hold my arm in mild pain, A tree then falls which sounds like a train. I then get ready to walk away from this peaceful site. As I watch the birds leap in flight. I then look back at the one little tree, It gets blown by the wind and it seems like it is waving goodbye to me.
Zachary Scheier St. Philip Neri School, Grade 6
2nd Place, Personification Poem
I AM I am Michael cubby and kind I wonder if people laugh at me because I am chubby or because I am funny I hear people laughing I see people pointing I want people to notice my personality I am Michael chubby and kind I pretend I don’t hear their comments I feel like dirt when people judge me by how I look I touch people with my personality I worry about others I could cry at night when I think about all the names I have been called I understand that I am chubby I say look inside me and give me a chance to show you what I can do I dream about how many friends I would have it they looked at my Personality not my looks I try to show my personality by making people laugh and making them Enjoy what they are doing I hope people see my personality and not my looks I am Michael chubby and kind
Michael Bradley Colonial Middle School, Grade 8
Serious Verse
She
I can’t tell you why she felt that way She feels it everyday. No one knows how she really feels inside Because every day she hides Afraid, she doesn’t want people to see this dark, sad side. Every one thinks she’s pretty and nice But really she’s ugly and not pleased with her life. Taking people’s words day by day Letting them sink in – she’s not okay. Family caught up in their problems Trying to keep their faith high They forget that she’s alive. She’s trying to please the friends and family around her So busy with that she forgets to please herself. People she loves the most have hurt her the most, She wants to scream out loud, “I AM NOT HAPPY!” But that would make her selfish, wouldn’t it? The things she does to herself to be perfect She’s so stupid she can’t remember that there’s no such thing as perfect. Do you think you know your best friend, girlfriend, sister, and daughter? Look deep into her eyes and then look harder. Because appearances are not always what they seem.
Cori Leahy Colonial Middle School, Grade 8
2nd Place, Serious Verse
The Universe
The universe is a mosaic. Each piece with its own meaning, A color that represents an object, The stars, an ornament of sparkles, Moons and suns, the fireworks that burst out, And the planets, people, walking about. The universe is a mosaic. Each galaxy a section of the beauty, The comets the things you might find if you look hard enough, A rainbow, a dove, soaring across the creation. The universe is a mosaic.
Brittni Fine Colonial Middle School, Grade 6
Metaphor Poem
Candy
Life is a candy, A sweet, Tasty treat. Life is a candy, Wrapped up in shiny paper, That can conceal the truth. It is always a surprise, Sometimes sweet, Sometimes sour. Life is a candy, Gone too soon, And only leaving you With memories. It is enjoyed while it is there, And it is always made with exquisite care. Life is a candy, A sweet, Tasty treat. Candy.
Katie Sweeney Colonial Middle School, Grade 6
2nd Place, Metaphor Poem
Puddles of What Was It’s that feeling Of looking at an old photograph, And tasting the sweat that rolled down your smirk On that baking summer day.
It is missing something so much Your stomach can’t put its mind around how it felt. But it can turn, as if amidst a shaky dream, And dwell In that absence of knowledge.
It is when the leaves bow down, Trampled but content. It is then that I catch That glimpse Of that sorry worn down place.
It holds its smile up with those two Great big trees, But the memories have since Been stripped, And strangled In a mess Of intruding young smiles of that rain.
Sophi Glazycheva Germantown Academy, Grade 10
1st Place, High School Level
The Talking Tree
I am a majestic tree Every single carving, limb, hole, leaf, and seed Tells a sentence in my story It took many, many years for me to be what I am today I have seen mighty mountains crumble to dust And raging rivers dry and bleed into the sky I have felt the hottest rays beat on my bark for days And children’s children climb, laugh and play But my friend I have come to learn that life is not an easy task, you see There is a secret amongst all beings given to us by our Great Mother Sadly, so many have forgotten the message and have lost their key Allow me to share my knowledge, from one tree to another While you dig your roots deep into the Earth As you spring forth under the Sun There are bound to be strong winds which tumble along When these struggles surface and come to life Don’t cower or splinter under their power Instead learn to sway and bend; grow flexible Because good timber does not grow with ease, my friend, Strong winds produce strong trees
Andrew Anglin Plymouth Whitemarsh High School, Grade 12
2nd Place, High School Level
NARNIA wet mind, cold feet, heavy thought, crunching leaves, the open air tells me stories… she whispers her gentle Euphoric breeze and I’m gone, I’ve gone away. crooked path, broken soul, flick the ash, sit down slow; the open air mirrors my spirit… she shelters me with her gentle Euphoric breeze and I’m gone, I’ve gone away. Manicked laughs, blissful tears, Herbal fun, lucid dreams, the open air fumigates my body… she disinfects my toxic heart with her gentle Euphoric breeze and I’m gone, I’ve gone away. wet mind, cold feet, heavy thought, crunching leaves, the open air hears MY story… she whispers her gentle Euphoric breeze and then SHE’S gone—she has gone away. Roseann C. Dillman Plymouth Whitemarsh High School, Grade 12
3rd Place, High School Level
The Open Letter The open letter stares back at you, The open letter is taunting you, The open letter shows off with glee, Flaunting and flirting happily, The open letter sits right there, Watching you pull out your hair. The open letter erases the past, Memories flashing by, oh so fast, Rotten words fill you up, Your heart feels like and empty cup, Feeling as if there is no light, Struggling to put up the best fight. The love of her life ripping out her heart, The words telling her they are apart, The tears blind her wet eyes, Sobbing when realizing all the lies, She knows that things will never get better, All because of the open letter.
Molly McTamney Plymouth Whitemarsh High School, Grade 9
4th Place, High School Level
Fear at Night Soft pawsteps lurch. The sounds of birch Wood creaking floors. Tapping the doors Throughout the house. Only a mouse Could scare you this much at night.
Jessie Goldshear Plymouth Whitemarsh High School, Grade 9
5th Place, High School Level