Arts Consortium of Carver County 2020 Poetry Contest Winners
We received thirty-five entries for our contest this year, including submissions from students and adults in Carver County and across the country. The poems were reviewed anonymously by six preliminary judges who chose the finalists. Winners were chosen by Minnesota Poet Laureate and Carver County resident, Joyce Sutphen. Several of the winners have provided us with a video of themselves reading their work. You can click on the link to see and hear them read. Congratulations to all!
Our 2020 Poetry Contest theme was “Quiet Ones/ Wild Ones.” The theme was interpreted broadly to include poems about something quiet or something wild or something both quiet and wild. A special thanks to our judges and our Literary Liaison, Susan Coultrap-McQuin, for coordinating this community Poetry Contest.
Student K-2
Charlie Van Hefty
Award of Excellence
Aggressive and Calm — A Haiku
Wild’s a thunderstorm
Tame is a sleeping puppy
Morning hair is both
Student 3-5
Alex Van Hefty
1st Place
Ozzy Osborne:
Prince of Darkness, King of Jungle
His hair,
Wild like a lion’s mane
Dried out from the African sun
His music
Echoing through the land
Like a morning roar
His behavior,
Unpredictable and crazy.
Decapitating and ravaging
A bat with his teeth
Like a beast pouncing on his prey.
And
Pacing on stage
As if in a cage
In front of his jungle audience.
And now,
His life,
Old and frail with Parkinson’s Disease,
But Ozzy Osbourne will always be wild to me.
Mackenzie Jensen
2nd Place
I Can’t Write a Poem
I can’t write a poem because I am lazy.
I can’t write a poem because there is a unicorn in my front yard.
I can’t write a poem because I am in the bathroom.
I can’t write a poem because I am in a Chromebook.
I can’t write a poem because I am on a boat in the universe.
I can’t write a poem because cows have taking over the world.
I can’t write a poem because I am in the closet.
I can’t write a poem because I am reading a book about poems.
I can’t write a poem because I am on a date.
I can’t write a poem because Bridget is watching grass grow.
I can’t write a poem because I am eating candy.
I can’t write a poem because I am in trouble.
I can’t write a poem because I am shopping.
I can’t write a poem because I am frozen in the ice.
I can’t write a poem because I am hunting.
I can’t write a poem because a pickle is chasing me.
I can’t write a poem because I am knitting one hundred hats.
I can’t write a poem because I am in a battle.
I can’t write a poem because life is too awesome to write a poem!
I can’t write a poem because I am a toy.
I can’t write a poem because I am stuck in a book shelf.
I can’t write a poem because I am dead.
I can’t write a poem because I am in a taco.
I can’t write a poem because I am on the moon.
I can’t write a poem because I am too beautiful.
I can’t write a poem because I am in my backpack.
I can’t write a poem because I am in the trash.
I can’t write a poem because I am a baby!
I can’t write a poem because I am with SpongeBob square pants.
I can’t write a poem because I am playing a game.
I can’t write a poem because I am baking a cake.
I can’t write a poem because I am in the pool.
I can’t write a poem because I am at Youngstedts.
I can’t write a poem because I am a millionaire.
I can’t write a poem because I am typing this poem.
I just can’t write a poem!
Tatum Luedke
3rd Place
Snowing
As the snow falls to the ground,
It’s like white freckles on my face
Almost as if it comes down from outer space
I hear the soft giggles of the wind
It is almost as if the wind could grin
As the fluffy snowflakes come down
It’s like there is no sound
The winter birds flutter about
With absolutely no doubt
That it will be snowing forever
Reese Marie Slechta
Honorable Mention
Water
Water
It can be calm in ways
and wild in others
It can hurt you
or help you
Water
it drip drops when it rains
and curls and crashes against your feet
with not the slightest of care
Water
You drink it
you cook with it
you play with it
you build with it
your body needs it
Water
Sweeps you out into the waves
that breaks hearts in many ways, but…
Water
Plants need it. You need it. Animals need it.
Close your eyes and just try to imagine a world without water
No life anywhere. No reading this poem—
but wait!
There is water here, but its needs don’t lack,
so treat it how it treats you.
Get rid of its ever growing sickness
It will take a lot of work, friends can help and strangers too,
so take care of water as it does to you.
Teshan Liyanage
Honorable Mention
Quiet to Wild
Quiet Child
There was a young pirate
who was so quiet
he went on a diet
and then started a riot
because of the diet
which made him disquiet
Wild Child
There was a wild child
that tried to keep quiet in a riot
but soon found out
that it was like trying to keep a diet
Student 6-8
Adonai Yidnekachew
1st Place
Wind and The Storm
I step outside in midst of night
The wind is silent as it slithers silently across my neck
I stare up at the sky and see that there are no stars in sight
The clouds are as dark as a room with no light
I take a few steps just to double check
That there won’t be a rip in the sky tonight
As lie my back across the grass, cool and calming
I close my eyes and feel assured that there won’t be a disturbance this night.
I feel the wind tap me on my back and whisper, “The untamed one is coming”
And the wind’s hot breath gives a tingle to my skin and leaves me shivering.
As I ignore the exhortation
I see a blinding tear in the sky and get prepared for the blast
Then, the sky lets out a cry of frustration
I break into a run and duck beneath the largest tree
I lie my head back, as a raindrop lands on my nose and summons the whole sea
The wind becomes heavy and slams my head on the trunk
As if the wind gave me the comeback
I feel my scalp get cold and as I bring my fingers toward it, I look at my hand and see bright ruby juice
I close my eyes, the storm is so intense and deafening, I’d rather be in war
Except, the storm is war fighting with the black of the night sky,
with explosions and flashes of life passing right before your eyes
With gore and tears.
As time passes, the clouds began to open up to the night sky
The rain stops pouring
The storm stops thundering
And the wind comes back with a pleasant breeze across my neck, assuring me that the war is over
The wind silently whispers “Rest assured, the untamed one has surrendered”
Yabsera Yidnekachew
2nd Place
Libras
Intelligent.
Kind.
Always putting others before ourselves.
Heads always “up in the clouds.”
Balanced.
Responsible.
Seems confident,
But struggles with insecurity on the inside,
like personal identity.
“Who am I?”
It’s important to keep the peace.
To always value harmony.
To stay mindful,
And see different perspectives;
different sides of the story.
But…..
Our imagination runs wild,
Back and forth like the wind.
Always looking and searching
For the bigger picture.
The Directors.
We lead our own lives.
We keep people out
Who shun us away from showing ourselves.
We keep running,
Running,
We keep chasing,
Chasing
To find and catch
Our inner voice.
Our quiet voice.
The one that tells us,
“This is you.”
Student 9-12
Jade Evans
1st Place
Gone
4 a.m.
I am alone gripping my stomach trying
to keep quiet
Digging in deeper
Crescent moons decorating my arm
Pushing in harder, yet I feel nothing
I simply feel empty.
I resort to journaling.
Writing down my pain with a
silver tipped pen soaked in red ink.
The ink beads at the surface,
spilling my secrets,
soaking through the thin sheets of
my bed.
Being distorted by the tear drops
rolling off my cheeks
It stings.
I embrace the pain for the simple
fact that I feel something.
My arm swelling up from the
pressure
Journaling doesn’t help unless I use
that thick red ink.
It’s like the ink is the only thread
between the outside world and my
scattered, racing thoughts. It pulls
the pain from my head and
represents itself as carefully written
cursive scarring my body.
My arm is a declaration of hate
Ink pools
My mind goes blank
For those ten seconds, the sting brings
peace to my mind
The racing thoughts calm
The sting doesn’t last long.
When my arm goes numb my
Mind scatters again.
Over and over I try.
My journal is running out of space.
I soon become weak, dizzy.
My eyes begin to sting from the
ocean beginning to dry up.
My blinks get slower as my
presence begins to drift elsewhere
I finally shut my eyes.
Everything goes black.
I am gone . . .
4:05 am
Henry Awes
2nd Place
The Early Bird Gets the Worm
With a cloud in the sky
The whir of the wind
Woke the mother
At dawn like a slap.
Her voice;
Like an angel as she sang
Doing chores as
The sun rose.
She was rewarded
With the baker’s
First blackberry muffin of the day.
Well worth a lick.
Reeti Thakkar
3rd Place
Drifting
It was too good to be true
A world I had never seen
Surrounding me
Infinite freedom
Soaring in any desired direction
I watched all my thoughts drift away
My worries
My fears
Far behind me
Suddenly, stress meant nothing
Everything was in reach
Prancing on clouds
Dancing with stars
Through woods
Beaches
Mountains
Everything was perfect
That is, until I realized
I’m still on the ground
Adult Carver County Resident
Angela Hunt
1st Place
Glad You’re Back
I will not try to convince you out of your suffering.
That would be a dishonor
To what you have endured,
A feeble negation of how you arrived. Here.
I will, instead,
Crawl to you
Under the fire you barrage upon yourself
And wait with you for the signal to move ahead.
I will not lambast you with
“Snap out of it” or “Buck up, Soldier”,
For that adds insult to your injury
Of psyche, of soul.
I hope
Instead
To come near your heavy armor
Offering a spark to warm your heart.
Jen Anderson
2nd Place
Canticle for the Lost Queen
Lo, that I may sing the song
of a queen long lost
to the waste and the wild.
Thro’ the waterlight she passed
twixt midnight wave and mirrored sky
unto the realm of infinite sorrows;
she found herself without her name,
and set upon a lonely path –
whilst all about her, the world ablaze
harsh and terrible and bright,
the way of a sun’s endmost firestorm
afore it fades and dies.
Fro the barren keep of ash and bone
she flew away, unto the heathen moors
to flee the scourge of swords upon her head
her heart lay secrets bare, the sorrow keen
to pierce her spirit so as ne’er to lift again.
Yet keener, so, the plaintive lament
of a fallen people bereft of hope,
and to this pitiable plea, her resolve did
cleave.
Out fro darkness infinite, she stepped:
truehearted daughter of Tir Averllyn,
a Valkyrie of the sacred storm
a beacon as to kindle bright, aflame
the lowest of the souls among them.
Come, cried she,
Courage to my sisters, brothers, all!
Justice is nigh! This night and e’er since,
all shall ken how we stood fast
afore the endless shadow
and all shall ken of our brave deeds
and speak of us in wonder.
And they went gladly, to meet their foe
and rallied round the gilded standard
of their beloved queen, her freedom call
ere upon their lips as they let fly
to the wind, and thro’ the battle raging high.
‘Twas wicked clamor of blade upon blade,
The fearful shriek of whyverns in the night,
what struck the death blow to end the fray;
what forged the crown of embers set alight,
and adorned her fierce brow, as she –
She of wind and water, ash and flame –
at long last, took her rightful place
among her people; most revered,
‘neath ancient stars that e’er sung her name.
Maria Awes
3rd Place
True Crime
It isn’t like you think.
When the shots pierce the silence
And the skin.
Life pours out untamed,
Racing into the cracks of concrete.
It isn’t fast.
There’s time to realize it’s inevitable;
Then a stutter in the chest – a final catching of breath.
It isn’t a last goodbye.
That was earlier, but they never knew it.
It was just Thursday.
It is wild hearts gone still.
An indelible stain on the sidewalk;
A branding of those left behind.
It is the saddest thing.
The living will always be the dead.
Haunted in silent moments by a cacophony of sorrow.
Adult Carver County Non-Resident
Tim J Brennan
1st Place
Cartoon Logic
When we were children,
Lydia would over in the morning
crying and not wanting to talk
about her father’s hands on her.
I simply turned on the television
and together
we watched as Bugs Bunny struck a match,
giving Elmer Fudd the hotfoot.
He danced, in circles, yelling
~ oh, oh, oh ~
the soles of his boot bubbling
like pancake batter on a hot griddle,
as geared up to chase
~ you silly wabbit ~
his consonants melding, his laces melting
& snapping him back & forth like a rubber band
in blinding speed. Only then when I laugh
and over at quiet Lydia curled like a tiny kitten.
She would would be staring at Elmer trying to run,
threads of his sole stretched into wild thin strips,
his cartoon mouth agape so wide it seemed
to swallow him whole.
Vicky A. King
2nd Place
In the Open Air
Hush.
A great peace is brewing
The sun breaking ground
Each fraction of time
Different from the last
Like Monet’s wet brush
En plein air as cadmium yellow
Devours an unsuspecting sky
I hold my breath
Dare not blink
Though my eyes fill
Beneath such warm silence
Jeannie L. Piekos
3rd Place
Praise
Author’s website: http://jeanniepiekos.com
“Praise, my dear one/Let us disappear into praising/
Nothing belongs to us”—Rainer Maria Rilke
Does not even this body
belong to me? Or I to it?
My imperfect machine,
no warranty and all this work
it’s done for me.The humiliation
we suffered in that dismal
darkness when first it stumbled,
then faltered, and fell from
homeostasis.
And what of spirit? The
wildness that has hurled me
into and out of love until
I thought I could take no more.
No more nakedness, no more
grief. Yet, stripped bare,
with luminous forgiveness,
I took more.
Of course, tomorrow
never belonged to me.
Although, I pestered it
with questions. How far will
this path take me? Where is
the limit of my longing? Will
I ever relinquish desire?
What is most mine
is faith in absence;
The losses I carry with me,
tucked into my pocket,
not hidden in pity, but resting
beside me, a gentle shimmer,
the hopefulness in this great
Unknowing, and in the hollow
left by what has disappeared.
This is what belongs to me.
All this I praise.
