Teen Poetry Contest

SWAMPSCOTT PUBLIC LIBRARY
The 5th Lee Golomb Cadiff
TEEN POETRY CONTEST 2009
Thank you to everyone who entered. We had a fabulous Awards Ceremony on April 30th, featuring readings by the finalists. The audience was impressed by the quality of these original poems. Please take the time to read them all.

The Teen Poetry Contest is possible through the assistance of Mrs. Norma Cadiff Finn, Friends of the Swampscott Public Library, the Swampscott Middle School and Swampscott High School, and the Tin Box Poets.

Thank you to all the teens who entered such wonderful poems that they made the judges’ task very difficult. The poems are below, in alphabetical order.

Please read the finalists’ poems below. We know you will be as impressed with them as we were.

The poem Shangrila was written by Lee Golomb Cadiff. Her daughter, Norma Cadiff Finn, was the donor who helped make this contest possible. Thank you, Norma.

Shangrila
By Lee Golomb Cadiff

We left the heat of summer’s sun
And stepped within the door;
The welcome sign spelled “Shangrila”;
We knew our search was o’er.
Then from without we heard a bird,
And saw the tall grass sway
In rhythm to its melody;-

It stole our hearts away.
The smell of chicken sandwiches,
The sizzle of the cokes,
The sweet peas in the coffee mug:-
Our swelled hearts nearly broke.

And as I touched a blossom,
In wonderment and bliss,
It stretched its neck, to be my friend,
And whispered with a kiss,

“To Shangrila God sentenced you
Forever and a day,
To work the pattern of your love—-
He, the potter, you the clay.

Fiona Buchanan
Swampscott High School
Grade 11
Second Prize

Flying People’s Hair

A bunch of five to twelve year olds
Do not know to my dismay
While I help them as they paint
The magnitude of what they say
I help them draw with dusty lines
And mix the colors they can’t name
A glimpse into my childhood growth
And helping them into the same
Some demand new blobs of paint
Some tug anxious at my sleeve
So small it’s hard to tell they’re there
A few I’m sad to see them leave
Each class a voiced hum all its own
The older kids above the rest
Girls at their age I’d cower from
A confidence I didn’t posses
I watch as one girl captivates
The attention of all her peers
Unknowing influential talk
Molding hands on ductile ears
What color hair do flying people have?
A little is asking me
I laugh, whatever color they want
And whatever she wants it to be
For them I distinguish light from dark
Explain the forms so they make sense
And marvel at their airy thoughts
And insight in their innocence

Emily Cardenas
Swampscott High School
Grade 11
Third Prize

Black and White

What happened to our diverse world filled with many colors?
Bright pink, brown, blue, green, there are endless shades
But many people can’t see past the two shades of wrong and right
Welcome to our world of black and white

Blue oceans engulf the earth
as green trees swarm the land
Flowers of purple and magenta,
tan and white grains in the sand
and look at the yellow dandelions in the grass
or the brilliant orange leaves on all the trees you pass
now close your eyelids with all your might
and
welcome to our world of black and white

The brilliant sun shines to warm your skin
As the sun rises the light fills the darkened sky
But soon enough your busy day has passed you by
As you watch the sunset and see our world turn to night
Welcome to our world of black and white

Colleen Curtis
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 7
Library Staff Prize

Last Week

Last week,
I took a trip
To Mount Olympus
Where I met Percy Jackson
And the Greek Gods.

Last week,
I went on vacation
To Cair Paravel, Narnia
Where I saw a lion, a witch,
And a magical wardrobe.

Last week,
I made a stop
In the Inkworld
To meet a man with a heart
As black as ink.

Last week,
I found myself
In Hogsmeade
Where I had a butterbeer
With Harry Potter.

Last week,
I took a seat
On my couch
Where I gathered my favorite books
And read them.

Eric DeAngelis
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 8
Honorable Mention

Only Whispers

Since you’ve passed,
All I hear is whispers.
Passing through a dark room,
Whispers.
Trying to sleep at night,
Whispers.
Walking down the street at night,
Whispers.
I tell myself that one day they will stop.
But until I see your glowing face again,
All I hear are whispers.
Blank, meaningless whispers.

Talia Faia
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 8
Honorable Mention

Rumors

The rumors never end.
This is insane.
Thoughts fill my head.

Then sink into my stomach.
Will they stop talking about me?
Will this ever die down?

Uhhh…

Students walk around me.
Eyes like razors,
Beaming at my stomach.

Then dirty looks are flashed.
My books fall like rocks.
But everyone keeps walking.

They yell to me.
And tell me I’m easy.
They ask when I’m due.

I don’t answer.
I tell myself to run away.
Where no one will find me.

Then I think to myself,
Were those donuts worth it?

Michaela Jancsy
Swampscott High School
Grade 10
Honorable Mention

The World of Autism

His name is Graham, so obsessed with sand,
Innocent never committing a sin.
Running away he must wear a wristband,
A sibling of Emma, being his twin.
Power and might keeping his mom offhand.
Busy, active, curious keeps him thin,
There is so much he needs to understand.
Frustrated and mute he scratches his skin.
Fascinated with large, moving, round toys,
Startled by unfamiliar, strange, noise.
Assigned to a class with very few boys,
Families and marriages it destroys.
Hopefully one day doctors find a cure,
I know I’ll always love Graham, that’s for sure.

Leah Khayter
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 8
Second Prize

Ghost of Her
My hand grasps hers—
Blue blood pulsing under porcelain skin.
The stench of sweat lingers in the white hospital room.
Heavy air suffocates.
My hands tangle in my unruly hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t believe it, can’t.
Tears run in rivulets, but not from her eyes.
Nevermore from her eyes.

Why is he crying?
I cannot place this idiosyncrasy.
I wrap my arms around him,
Talk to him a bit,
Slap him across the face,
Scream and cry, yet he is not fazed.
I do not notice that my maimed heart is no longer beating.
Will it forever stay this way?
Will I always be the ghost of who I once was?
Not to anyone in particular, he finally speaks,
“How’d you expect me to watch you die?”

Bridget Lawless
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 8
Third Prize

Drifting Dreams

Dandelion seeds
Drifting away on a breeze
Like so many dreams
You never dared to follow
Dancing just beyond your reach

Julie Locke
Swampscott High School
Grade 10
Honorable Mention

The Scribe

Her thoughts pour down in a monsoon of her mind.
She screams out playfully, like the child she has become.
Her heart pounds as her feet strike the ground.
Faster. Faster.
She’s slowly disintegrating.
Her arms, the sleek pale skin, fade away.
The petite wrists of hard penmanship,
her dainty fingers, scribing for hours, all sluggishly disappearing.
The silence sets in.
The pitter-pat of her feet becomes soundless.
She is invisible to the world.
She is caught in a downpour of thoughts,
racing through her head…

The runner bleeds ink on the page…

Thomas McEnaney
Marblehead Community Charter Public School
Grade 8
First Prize

Thomas McEnaney

Gift From The Sky

A seagull can glide
Because of the wind
But what is the wind
To a creature on land
A kite? A flag? A wave of the grass?
Not many see it
As a gift from the sky.

The wind is the pull
That puts strain on the ropes,
And the soft sound
Of the luff of the sails,
As a small boat
Begins to fly.

The sailboat is the one place
The sea truly meets
The vast, windy sky.
And the salty taste of speed
Is our endless
Gift from the sky.

The clouds know,
And the birds know,
And the sails know,
As they drift into the sunset
The wind
Is a gift from the sky.

Jaclyn Newman
Swampscott High School
Grade 11
First Prize

jaclyn-1

Him

When I look into the mirror I fear
That it will be his face that I shall see.
His yellow teeth, greasy hair, stupid leer,
I am terrified I’ll see him in me.

Whenever I do something I wonder
If maybe I did what he would have done.
The panic violently yanks me under.
I search around for help, but find none.

The idiot with all the pretty lies,
I blocked my ears to him two years ago.
But even now my panic never dies.
I force myself to be my greatest foe.

I crush my anger so it’s small and mild.
So frightened I will be my father’s child.

Melanie Potter
Swampscott High School
Grade 10
Honorable Mention

Take Me There

Drive
Forever
And never look back
That’s what you told me
The fading sunset turns colors of purple and deep magenta
I bat my eyes to clear the fogginess that has settled in my mind
A paintbrush sweeps across the horizon once again
And the sky turns an ominous midnight blue
“What happened to us?”
“We’re just kids, trying to find our way.”
“And now our way is looking pretty complicated.”
My head rests on your warm, but shaking shoulder
Your uncertainty leaks through your rugged core
I want to believe you when you say everything will be all right
But as the road winds farther and farther from my mother’s warmth, my head tells me “no”
Your old green pickup tries to find its way through the blackened sky
Even if us kids can’t
I close my eyes, where the darkness is all the same and imagine a better world
Old pickup truck, take me to this place
Drive through the horizon, and beyond.

Allison Richardson
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 7
Donor Prize

Chicken Soup

The big metal pot sits on the stove.
The aroma of the soup inside it fills the kitchen.
I sit at the table staring at the pot,
Watching and waiting.

My mom stirs the contents of the pot
And the sound of the soup sloshing around inside it
Sends my cat running into the room.
He sits on the floor,
Still as a statue.
He looks up at the pot hoping that some chicken might
Be coming his way.
His big yellow green eyes are fixed on the pot,
And he too watches and waits.

As I sit there looking at the pot,
My patience grows thinner by the minute.
My mom puts some bowls
And a box of crackers on the table.
The soup is almost done,
And I can almost taste it!
My dad and brother enter the kitchen.
Now we all watch and wait.

Then finally the soup is done!
We fill our bowls with piping hot soup,
And sit down to enjoy it.

My dad gives the cat a piece of dark meat.
He devours it quickly.
I crush some crackers into my soup.
Then I dig in.

That wonderful soup is as hot as the sun on a summer day.
Even though outside a cold winter storm is brewing.
I feel warm and happy.

Catherine Sheehan
Swampscott Middle School
Grade 8
Honorable Mention

Happy but Sad

Childhood remembrances are always sweet and sour
if you’re parents are divorced
you always remember things like the fun trip to the zoo with your mom
or that great day at the park with your dad
but no one can really understand
a five year olds
confusion
when you wonder why you travel from house to house
to see your parents
and think
“why does mommy and daddy live in two different places,”
Is it because I’m different from all the
other kids at school.
No probably not you say
as you try to brush away the truth that
they hate each other behind your back
but you keep smiling
because you know that if you don’t
they don’t
and then they will forget how to smile
and stare blankly, forever, into their children’s confused eyes.