2009 Student Poetry Contest Honorable Mentions
The Real Hero
Alone in a corner,
You feel trapped,
The world won’t accept you,
You feel unmapped
No one to go to,
No where to turn to,
You can’t be included,
Because your just you
People push you away,
They say you’re a fool,
They do this because,
They think you’re not cool
The way you are treated,
No one deserves to be,
Why they think they’re on top,
Is a mystery to me
But really they’re wrong,
They’re really on zero,
You’re the one,
Who should be called hero
The reason why,
Is that you don’t look,
At what they are wearing,
Or how long their hair took
You look on the inside,
You see how they feel,
You look at the true them,
Not how they appeal
So keep this up,
And soon you’ll see,
You can change a person,
Maybe her or me
6th Grade
Mackenzie Thorley
West Cary Middle School
Back to Express Yourself: Teen Poetry Contest 2009
Rezák
We have profound this attitude.
As the pressure of smoke,
It’s self.
The mouth will carry the throat and so forth.
Let’s dedicate this hour to the air freshener.
We have all the materials.
This is nature.
I’ve tasted hell.
Let’s step forth and listen to the undertow.
The hunger is dying and
I am more then she was.
The sound of heart isn’t settling yet.
Never mind the date-
Let’s feel the time. The place.
The matter.
This is nature.
I’ve tasted hell.
7th Grade
Hayley McHugh
Heritage Middle School
Back to Express Yourself: Teen Poetry Contest 2009
The Moon
The moon's soft glow falls on the ground
As the clouds gather to extinguish its light
The silver lamp shines as the dark gathers 'round
To quiet the beauty of the slow-drifting night
The clouds envelop the diadem
Of radiant blue rock
But the beam plays patterns on the hem
While in the haze it's locked
But the dark cannot hold it in
And so gives up and floats away
While the faithful moon, of the old
Lights the earth the ancient way
9th Grade
Bridget Irish
ICDRC
Back to Express Yourself: Teen Poetry Contest 2009
A carcass is a universe
A universe where life and death are the same
The dying breath of a dying beast
Gives life to the millions
The small ones migrate to the stench
and feast on what’s before them
Generations of insects call home and food the same
Fattening up and growing old
Entering the warmth and leaving the cold
Growing colonies birthing out maggots
Continuing the work of their forefathers
Forever trapped in a trance like state of reproduction
No end and No beginning
Only the incessant drone of life
Does it end in one single fantastic instant
or continue until the cosmos themselves erupt in
a passionate dance of flame and destruction?
Only time can tell yet time is an illusion that
rots away at the universe that is shrinking.
Leaving nothing behind but the bones of society
11th Grade
Justin Adams
Leesville Road High School
Back to Express Yourself: Teen Poetry Contest 2009
Unconventional Sestina
In my math class, I’ve learned that infinity is just
another number: two swoops of a blue pen,
a figure-eight crudely pushed over.
It doesn’t mean forever the way I think
that it should. Instead it’s the careful, steady
march of eternal numbers until the unbending end.
English, we hunt for the means to our end,
tie poetry up tight to our chairs and give it a just
trial, watch as the squirming words steadily
evade the blunt stabbings of our pens.
We don’t understand or even think
at all as long as we continue to over-
state the tried and true, being overtly
careful in our analysis. From the beginning to the end
of every bland day, we’re careful even in our thoughts,
our ideas always perfectly rational, just,
well-conceived. (I’m breaking the code, penning
this criticism into existence, hand not so steady.)
And how can I ever really be steady
when my thoughts have never been over-
heard? When all I am is bounded between the pen
marks and there’s no beginning or ending?
No plot, no structure, no conflict, just
the simplistic expression of personal thought.
I strive to explain the depth of the thoughts
continually being processed ever so steadily,
so carefully dissected by my mind. But justness
is valued over all by my society, and over
my head hangs my commitment to the end;
that of all weapons, worse than none is the pen
that flows irrational. And so I cap my pen
and close my mind to the rogue thoughts
capering thorough me. But there is still no end
to this revolutionary constant relentless and steady
stream of unconventional realizations. I am overly
conscious of this and make sure to compensate, adjust
my capped pen, stationary in its drawer. Steady
eyes, steady thoughts, steady mind. I understand, I’ll overplan
and—here’s the means to my end—just this!
12th Grade
Sarah Brady
Holly Springs High School
Back to Express Yourself: Teen Poetry Contest 2009