2005 Poetry Contest Winners
A special thank you to all who submitted entries, and congratulations to our 2005 BookFestWindsor Poetry Contest Winners!Award Winners, Ages 7 - 9
1èr Prix, Français: Nicholas Bohn, 7 ans, "Mon Nounour"
á l'autre nounour qui est lourd.
Il y a des lourds nounours
qui disent bonjour
toujours á nounour.
1st Place, English: Willow Strain, 7 years, "I am"
I am a pretty unicorn who loves to flyI wonder if I could fly to the moon
I hear the stars calling me
I see the moon smiling at me
I want to catch a star one day and bring it to my home
I am a pretty unicorn who loves to fly
I pretend I am playing with the stars
I feel sad when the moon is not near me
I feel I should go to the moon and pray
I touch the stars while I am flying
I worry that my dream will not come true
I cry when I see that the moon is sad
I am a pretty unicorn who loves to fly
2nd Place, English: Rachel Simpson, 9 years, "LA Isn't That Great"
LA isn't that greatWriting stories for a mate.
I'd rather stick my nose in a book
As long as my teacher doesn't overlook...
LA is just so weird
To have my poems peered
Over by my teacher;
LA is just so weird
About these textbooks,
They are so crazy
Mother says I don't
Read them because I'm too lazy.
LA isn't that great
Writing stories for a mate.
I'd rather stick my nose in a book
As long as my teacher doesn't overlook...
As long as my teacher doesn't overlook
I'll keep that nose in that book.
3rd Place, English: Melissa Dyck, 9 years, "Art is a Very Special Subject"
Art is the very bestIn painting do we have to wear a paint vest
"Sorry," but I cannot complain
Art should be put in the "hall of fame."
Would you rather sit in the hot, hot sun?
I would not art is very, very fun!
Can the whole class make a line drawing
Or can we make a picture with ladybugs crawling?
Art is not very tricky
But if you eat by art it can get sticky
Art should get in 1st place
I could just shove it in your face
Art has its own very rare design! Doesn't it?
Award Winners, Ages 10 - 13
1st Place: Megan Noel, 10 years, "Loving You"
(Dedicated to my poplar tree)Looking out my window
I see you
Different from others
You are loved
Like a mother loves her daughter
They share an unbreakable bond
You are leaning
Leaning towards me
Your leaves wrap around us
Moving closer to my heart
In spring
You share your poplar-snow
A white fluffy blanket
On green grass
Sitting under you
I see your life
Born small
You grew tall and beautiful
Your branches
A home for others
Holding your rough brown bark
In the palm of my hand
I notice that you are clinging to life
You are diseased
Still loved
But soon you will be gone
Not knowing when you will be cut down
I weep a well of water
But I know
You will never leave me
You will live through our memories
And me
Growing still in my heart
2nd Place: Alex DiPierdomenico, 13 years, "Like a Storm"
A raindrop down the window is another second passing by.A flash of lightning is another time you wanted to cry.
The whisper in the wind is like a secret never kept.
A burst of loud thunder is another minute never slept.
You wait by your window to see the sun enter the sky.
And these are where the horrible memories will forever lie.
Life is like a storm that will never end.
And a small ray of sun is another remembered friend.
3rd Place: James Duyck, 13 years, "When You're Boating with Me"
The DreamAs I pull from the dock
in a wide, graceful curve,
I swing the bow 'round
with grace that I learned.
I make a left turn,
as smooth as a kite.
When you're boating with me,
have a wonderful night!
The Reality
As I pull from the dock
in a heart-wrenching swerve,
I swing the bow 'round
with brashness and nerve.
I make a left turn,
it ends up a right.
When you're boating with me,
try not to take fright!
Award Winners, Ages 14 & Up
1st Place: Anne Baldo, 19 years. "Your Very Own Houdini"
There he is againvanishing
in a flurry of doves
and tarot cards
dazzling
hands a sweep of
white gloves, dark hustle
of cloak, lustrous
rose pinned to
bat-wing black
silk lapels, blowing petals
across the stage.
He can pick a deadlock with
a solitary strand of hair,
slips all handcuffs by his gleaming teeth
nothing can hold him
not your arms or a straitjacket
or a locked coffin, chained
twenty feet below sea level.
He can crawl, like a spider,
through the eye of a needle
or the cells in your skin
and slide back again
all his life one great escape act
with a tendency of disappearing
at crucial moments
swallowing keys, coins, your heart
then choking it back up
more or
less intact.
2nd Place: Kaitlin M. Tremblay, 17 years, "The Beauty of Melancholy"
When asked how to kill a poet,it was once written:
"Make them eternally happy."
So you, my cherished,
unknowing muse,
would call my melancholy
beautiful, elegant, ravishing
anything and everything
that does not fall short of
inspiring.
The tears you swell in my eyes;
The flick of your wrist that breaks my heart
-you would call assistance
to writer's block.
You try not to murder
the poetic and rhymed monster of me;
you would not make me happy.
Instead,
you feed
a melancholic masochism
by acting as the profound muse
for the stoic artist.
You are not so clever
to realize this paradox.
That to hurt me
is beautiful
and to make me happy
is death.
3rd Place: Melba Lopez, 17 years, "Suburban Perfection"
the lawns are all manicuredeach one a fresh, perfect green.
the flowers aligned against the houses,
dazzling colours so pristine.
each house is identical,
as perfect as the next,
the sun is shining through the windows,
the glass betraying a single mess.
it helps that it's all perfect,
it hides all secrets deep
nobody would know
the horrors that it keeps.
everyone is oblivious,
to mr. klein beating his wife.
or to young sandra's cuts on her arm,
that she slices with a knife.
everything is all smiles,
nobody cares.
it's the worst thing ever,
to be subject of so many stares.
mrs. Lennon cheats on her husband,
when he is gone away,
every night she cheats,
a different name she says.
yet when he comes back home,
she plasters on a grin.
she ushers him inside their house,
and says "honey, won't you come in?"
the cheeriness of the neighbourhood,
goes against all that is true.
everyone pretends to not listen;
they have their own problems too.
while laughter can be heard,
they all scream and cry inside.
the perfection is all a mask,
while imperfections all lie inside.
it just goes to show,
that we can't hide what we truly are.
we choose to live in a perfect world,
but in fact, from it, we are so far...
All poems on this page are the copyright (© 2005) of their respective authors, and may not be reproduced without permission.