I'm so sorry, April!

April is National Poetry Month, and I should've posted at the beginning of the month an encouragement to sponsor a poetry contest in your school. But the month is well more than half over, so I'll post some of my favorite winning poems from years past. These students will be seniors in a couple of years now, and their class contained a number of exceptional writers. I would love to see what they're all up to in about ten years.

Forever Loyal
by Taylor Bechtel, when she was in 8th grade

I remember when spring was in my step,
When my tail was an uncontrollable propeller,
And my face held no note of grey.
I remember when you would scratch my ears,
And praise me for simple tricks.
I remember when I was something to be proud of,
Not just a burden.

Was it really that long ago that I was your best friend?
Do you even remember my trusting gaze?
My innocent disposition?
My utter devotion?
It is still that way,
At least from my perspective.

Your eyes catch mine,
While I shiver on this silver bed
Drowning in your excess emotions,
Hope,
Fear,
Sympathy,
Love.
The last overpowering the rest.
Life has no Disney ending.

But even as this needle pierces my skin
I am at ease
Even as my heartbeat slows
I am content.
Because even as this cold drug pulls my eyes shut,
Your love keeps me warm.

                                                                                                                             [Used with permission]

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I was completely blown away by this poem. If you didn't get it the first time through, read it again. I cried the second time through when I realized it was from the perspective of the dog, about to be put down in the vet's office. 

RIP Daisy

About a month before, I had done the same thing with my seventeen-year-old poodle. And as heart-tugging as the poem is, it left me with such a sweet expression of love for my old dog.

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A Long Wait

by Morgan Gray, when she was in the 7th grade

The child plays on

Carefree

The wind blows by

Unaware

Leaves rustle in the tree

Unnoticed

Dogs chase the cats

Ignored

The family eats

Unharmed

The soldiers march by

Feared

They pass through, destroying what they like

Hated

I shrink back from the window

Wondering

My mind contemplating the soldiers' defeat

Hoping

Thinking of the day I will get to play like the child

Happy

Be unnoticed like the leaves

Unimportant

The day I will be free of this hiding place

Waiting

                                                                                                       [Used with permission]

Morgan told me they had done a study on the Holocaust, and that inspired her wonderful poem.

  
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Rooted to the Ground

by Amanda Peck, when she was in the 7th grade




You are the wind

Trying to knock me down

Blow me away

Trying to hurt me

Trying to bruise me

Blowing at me

In every direction

But I am an oak tree

Rooted to the ground

Deep below the surface

Where you cannot reach me

No matter how hard you blow

I will not come un-rooted

You think I am struggling

You laugh at me

Think I am barely holding on

But I am sturdy

Mocking your attempts

To bring me to the ground

For you are the one struggling

While I easily hold on

                                                                           [Used with permission]

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Invisible

by Nathan Albers, when he was in the 7th grade


If I could have a power

to hold and then to use,

The power to turn invisible

is not the one that I'd choose.

I do not like the feeling

of being unseen by all.

They act like my chair's empty,

Like no one's there at all.

It might be my fault, too,

because I'm quiet as a stone.

No voices speak to me,

no ring comes from my phone.

They have their own friends,

and they don't need me.

There's conversation everywhere,

but nothing aimed at me.

I feel like I'm an empty cup,

like a car in an empty parking lot,

Or a painting that no one comes to see,

like a basketball that's never shot.

The world seems very far away,

for I sit here very glum.

They're talking and laughing and having fun,

but they don't want me to come.

If someone would come

to the seat next to me,

In a very short time

he would begin to agree.

With what every few people

have come to see,

That when I'm not invisible,

I'm a completely different me.

                                                                                                                   [Used with permission]

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The library is a great place to provide students opportunities to express themselves through prose and poetry contests. You can also create an anthology each year of students' original works to document their efforts. Work with your Language Arts teachers to help collect good submissions. 

Who knows? The spark you start may mean adding some of your former students' published books to your library shelves some day.