<\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

Student Poets<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong> Below are the winning student poems of the Poetry Without Paper competition conducted by the Gloucester Lyceum since the spring of 2003. The contest began as a celebration of poetry month, April, and has been an annual event ever since; over a thousand students have entered thousands of poems. Winners were recognized in three categories: elementary school, middle school, and high school.\u00a0 The poems are headed with the winner’s name, school, and grade level at the time of the contest.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/span><\/h1>\n

<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2003<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cathy Cusumano<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Him or Her? <\/strong><\/p>\n

Him or her?<\/p>\n

Whom should I choose?<\/p>\n

He is so fun and she is so nice.<\/p>\n

He takes me places where I like to go.<\/p>\n

She lets me come over and listen to the radio.<\/p>\n

When he is there I feel so good.<\/p>\n

When I’m with her hanging at the mall I feel right.<\/p>\n

So my question is, him or her?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kate Bresnahan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

Ralph B. O’Maley School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nothing<\/strong><\/p>\n

Meet me, my name is nothing.<\/p>\n

I can predict, I can foresee.<\/p>\n

But no one ever listens.<\/p>\n

Even in a time of great peril:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am alone.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A loneliness I can’t describe.<\/p>\n

Even those I am closest to<\/p>\n

Do not see me.<\/p>\n

They cannot hear me.<\/p>\n

Touch me, hate me, love me.<\/p>\n

That is why I am alone.<\/p>\n

Because they refuse to know me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nothing is a name I gave myself.<\/p>\n

My true name has no meaning.<\/p>\n

Because no one knows it.<\/p>\n

They never tried to know it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I try to reach out<\/p>\n

But I must always pull back.<\/p>\n

I am not allowed to love them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It is fate.<\/p>\n

Fate wants me to be alone.<\/p>\n

Unable to see,<\/p>\n

Unable to be seen.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I can hear, but cannot be heard.<\/p>\n

That is why I call myself nothing.<\/p>\n

My tears mean nothing<\/p>\n

My cries mean nothing<\/p>\n

My love means nothing:<\/p>\n

I mean nothing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Andrew Bergeron<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Flat Beer on a Sunday Night<\/strong><\/p>\n

Flat beer on a Sunday night<\/p>\n

inspiring scribbled ramblings<\/p>\n

out of half-drunken spite.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The incense burns, the radio sings<\/p>\n

and on this notepad I confide.<\/p>\n

Out of language I wring<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

the hopes and fears modified<\/p>\n

into happy rhythms I despise<\/p>\n

and tired rhymes that have been tried.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Using things like clouds and red to symbolize,<\/p>\n

the strain and stress and frustration,<\/p>\n

writing soliloquy while my heart drip-dries,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

frying my brain till its overdone,<\/p>\n

knowing my point, still unsung,<\/p>\n

will go over the heads of everyone.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

2004<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Heather Boudrow<\/h2>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Beeman Memorial School, 3rd Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My Cats<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have two cats<\/p>\n

I am glad to say<\/p>\n

that one is a little bit smarter.<\/p>\n

One bats the fish tank<\/p>\n

and the other one slides into walls.<\/p>\n

Milo is the one who slides into walls<\/p>\n

and Lily is the one who bats the fish tank.<\/p>\n

Milo has no brakes<\/p>\n

and Lily can’t wait for a snack from the tank.<\/p>\n

The silliest thing the two have done together is<\/p>\n

falling down the stairs.<\/p>\n

So which one is really a little bit smarter?<\/p>\n

I am not really sure!<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Emma Chandler<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

Glen Urquhart, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Beach Day<\/strong><\/p>\n

The summer sun bronzes my light<\/p>\n

skin as I lie in the sand.<\/p>\n

I concentrate on the sounds of the waves<\/p>\n

rolling over the sand,<\/p>\n

and then hear them gurgle<\/p>\n

and retreat back to the mothership, the whole ocean.<\/p>\n

It spreads out, never ending.<\/p>\n

I am covered in a blanket of sunshine and warmth.<\/p>\n

The ocean beckons,<\/p>\n

the small waves tease me,<\/p>\n

tickling my toes.<\/p>\n

I give in and wade in,<\/p>\n

letting the cold spread up my body,<\/p>\n

until it reaches the top,<\/p>\n

My head is under.<\/p>\n

The sound is gone.<\/p>\n

I can think clearly now,<\/p>\n

with just the bubbles<\/p>\n

whispering to me.<\/p>\n

I surface and breathe.<\/p>\n

The sun greets me<\/p>\n

as I lean my head back,<\/p>\n

it reflects off my home,<\/p>\n

making it shine<\/p>\n

as if someone has dusted it<\/p>\n

with diamonds<\/p>\n

I let myself sink back under<\/p>\n

and move with the current.<\/p>\n

I feel complete<\/p>\n

for a moment, while I am under.<\/p>\n

Not grounded by gravity,<\/p>\n

yet not flying out of control.<\/p>\n

I am suspended in a liquid of tranquility<\/p>\n

Not breathing, not suffocating,<\/p>\n

just floating in bliss.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kate Bresnahan <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 9th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Out of the Window<\/strong><\/p>\n

Out of the window<\/p>\n

The land so quiet<\/p>\n

The night bringing on its lust<\/p>\n

The noise of the wind beckons me<\/p>\n

And I can see the moon clouded over, hardly visible<\/p>\n

No light, no sound<\/p>\n

Only the wind and the faint glow of the moon<\/p>\n

The trees sway in tune with a silent song<\/p>\n

My hair flies out around me<\/p>\n

It’s as though I’m flying In this world that I have never seen before<\/p>\n

No more tears can flow from my eyes<\/p>\n

I can’t make that happen anymore<\/p>\n

Now that I have seen outside of my window<\/p>\n

And into this place I have never known<\/p>\n

The tears only come because of the sheer beauty<\/p>\n

I can’t hold it back<\/p>\n

It’s enchanting<\/p>\n

And with a last breath I come back from my window<\/p>\n

It smells different in the world I know<\/p>\n

It is enchanting, but not in the way I have just experienced<\/p>\n

It is beautiful<\/p>\n

But not breathtaking<\/p>\n

I now know what’s beyond my window<\/p>\n

How can I love that which I know now?<\/p>\n

Now that the world beyond has come to life<\/p>\n

I cannot appreciate the beauty I have created any longer<\/p>\n

So I look out my window again<\/p>\n

For that one breath<\/p>\n

Of sensational wind<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2005<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alexandra McKay<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Beeman Memorial School, 3rd Grade<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Friends<\/strong><\/p>\n

Everybody has friends.<\/p>\n

Even the stars have friends.<\/p>\n

They glitter with the moon in the morning light.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Everybody has friends.<\/p>\n

Even the sun has friends.<\/p>\n

The sun is bright and the clouds are white.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Everybody has friends.<\/p>\n

Even the planets late at night.<\/p>\n

When the astronauts come in from flight.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Everybody has friends.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Samantha Turner <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 7th Grade<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Dreams and Nightmares <\/strong><\/p>\n

Open and sweet with bright colors<\/p>\n

Anything can happen<\/p>\n

Flying over the highest cloud<\/p>\n

Dive into the deepest ocean<\/p>\n

Climb the tallest mountain<\/p>\n

Ride the fastest horse<\/p>\n

Chase the wind in a game of tag<\/p>\n

Peace is all around you.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Darkness overwhelms the light<\/p>\n

Pain consumes your happiness<\/p>\n

For just a moment everything is still<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Then chaos erupts all over<\/p>\n

Shadows chase you to the brink of a cliff<\/p>\n

Volcanoes explode with giant rocks<\/p>\n

Floods and strong winds wash and scour the earth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fires burn with powerful heat<\/p>\n

Then courage comes and you fight back<\/p>\n

You wield powers of untold forces<\/p>\n

Passion to free yourself from\u00a0evil fights<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Light comes back<\/p>\n

You have won<\/p>\n

Warmth comes to touch your sleeping face<\/p>\n

You wake up from the night’s adventure<\/p>\n

To go on to the new day’s quest<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kaitlin Nicolosi<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

World Wonders<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/h3>\n

World wonders are small beauties, often lost in the blink of an eye.<\/p>\n

They are shadowed by the extravagant, the flash of riches that we see,<\/p>\n

It’s sad to know we often let the best things in life pass us by.
\nLike a string of laughter which makes us double over and cry,<\/p>\n

Or even the soft curve of a smile one can so brilliantly foresee,<\/p>\n

World wonders are small beauties, often lost in the blink of an eye.
\nA kiss so sweet and gentle that the lungs exert a sigh,<\/p>\n

Watching nighttime as the waves wash out slowly past the sea,<\/p>\n

It’s sad to know we often let the best things in life pass us by.
\nLate afternoon swimming and early evening cookouts in July,<\/p>\n

The delicacy of autumn with burnt citrus leaves in each tree,<\/p>\n

World wonders are small beauties, often lost in the blink of an eye.
\nA friendship formed where a shell was cracked in someone that was shy,<\/p>\n

Or genuine surprises that bring a glow to the cheek and a tremble to the knee.<\/p>\n

It’s sad to know we often let the best things in life pass us by.
\nA face adorned with makeup is the beauty that you buy,<\/p>\n

But life is far more glamorous than a cosmetic will ever be.<\/p>\n

World wonders are small beauties, often lost in the blink of an eye.<\/p>\n

It’s sad to know we often let the best things in life pass us by.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

2006<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Billy O’Donnell <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Brookwood School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Aviation
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

I left you far behind today,<\/p>\n

With your gravity-bound ways.<\/p>\n

I am now on top of the world,<\/p>\n

As light as a feather.<\/p>\n

I no longer have any earthly limits,<\/p>\n

Just the constraints of my remaining minutes.<\/p>\n

I feel happy, excited, and adventurous.<\/p>\n

I feel as though I am floating.<\/p>\n

Looking down on you, I am not gloating.<\/p>\n

I am in control of everything,<\/p>\n

Except for nature’s anger!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Britany Diamondt <\/strong><\/h1>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

Ralph B. O’Maley Middle School, 7th Grade<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ecstasy at the Beach<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n<\/strong>Sitting Still<\/p>\n

sounds all around<\/p>\n

laughter fills the air<\/p>\n

splish, splash, the ocean pounds the rocks<\/p>\n

along with the squawk and mock of a gull<\/p>\n

soft, silky sand slipping down my leg<\/p>\n

along with the tickle of a crab<\/p>\n

faint taste of ocean on my lips<\/p>\n

can taste the salt in the slush with every sip<\/p>\n

sun shining from every angle<\/p>\n

my hair tangled<\/p>\n

wish the moment would freeze<\/p>\n

like the ocean waves can<\/p>\n

Breathing in,<\/p>\n

clean, crisp, coconut lotion<\/p>\n

sweet smell of burned skin<\/p>\n

refreshing and invigorating<\/p>\n

not a care in the world<\/p>\n

the sun is beginning to set<\/p>\n

sky looks on fire<\/p>\n

fire spreading now reaching the ocean<\/p>\n

within minutes the world seems to be caught up in flames<\/p>\n

fireworks of red, orange and pink<\/p>\n

everyday at the beach is a different story<\/p>\n

this one just happens to be my favorite<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Erin McManus<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 11th Grade\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blood Has No Doctrine <\/strong><\/p>\n

blood has no doctrine<\/p>\n

when it<\/p>\n

spills<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

from the gun’s barrel<\/p>\n

our sweet stifled indignation<\/p>\n

is identical<\/p>\n

our wildest dreams are<\/p>\n

symmetrical<\/p>\n

beaten<\/p>\n

pulpy<\/p>\n

silence<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

blood not of mosques<\/p>\n

or temples or<\/p>\n

churches<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blood of the people<\/p>\n

Blood of our written<\/p>\n

Byronic heroes flows and flows<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blood,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

red hand of mortality<\/p>\n

Oh blessed life!<\/p>\n

The soliloquy begins and terminates<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

us all<\/p>\n

the same<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2007<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span>\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Phoebe Weissblum<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Harborlight Montessori School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Midnight Clock <\/strong><\/p>\n

Tick, tock the midnight clock<\/p>\n

will life turn out soft, or hard as a rock?
\nTick, tock the midnight clock<\/p>\n

will the door to my dreams be open, or will it have a lock?
\nTick, tock the midnight clock can I pass through my troubles silently,<\/p>\n

or will I have to talk?<\/p>\n

Tick, tock the midnight clock<\/p>\n

it never ends, it never stops.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kazira Slocum<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I Dream with a Reason to Wake Up <\/strong><\/p>\n

With a shy voice, sweet words are spoken.<\/p>\n

With calm eyes watching there is no stutter in the pattern.<\/p>\n

Breathing gently, with soothing gasps.<\/p>\n

Lying with compassion.<\/p>\n

Sleeping now with the sound of night.<\/p>\n

I hear inside my cry.<\/p>\n

The three words I have never heard before.<\/p>\n

Were spoken with truth.<\/p>\n

Within lying tears, I lie awake.<\/p>\n

Not wanting to leave my dream.<\/p>\n

I wake to a reality with your voice inside my mind.<\/p>\n

It rings in my ears; the three words I have never heard before.<\/p>\n

I love you.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Alexandra Lees<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 10th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A Girl of the Sea <\/strong><\/p>\n

The sky is a deep ebony<\/p>\n

the sea slaps the sand gently<\/p>\n

the wind is cold and biting<\/p>\n

the stars sparkle and dance<\/p>\n

the moon is pregnant with light<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A girl lies on the beach<\/p>\n

her clothes, hair, skin are<\/p>\n

brushed by the wind<\/p>\n

she is shivering,<\/p>\n

but she doesn’t notice<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She is part of everything,<\/p>\n

her skin is moonlight<\/p>\n

her hair is burnt dune grass<\/p>\n

her curves are the moon’s curves<\/p>\n

her eyes are the stars<\/p>\n

her breath is the waves<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Her soul is the sea,<\/p>\n

swirling, gliding, caressing<\/p>\n

the earth, the creatures<\/p>\n

embracing the world<\/p>\n

in a blanket of peace<\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

2008<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lydia Anderson<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Beeman Memorial School, 4th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Africa<\/strong><\/p>\n

In Africa miracles come alive like spirits on a bike<\/p>\n

there are some animals I personally like<\/p>\n

from monkeys swaying in the trees<\/p>\n

to elephants stomping in the breeze<\/p>\n

there are even more even some as delicate as a glass<\/p>\n

such as chomping cheetahs in the grass<\/p>\n

and gentle giraffes looking around with a face of brass<\/p>\n

but my favorite is the warthog or pig as many people would say<\/p>\n

they always run but they just have a different way<\/p>\n

of expressing themselves in their land<\/p>\n

and I hope they will never ever die as planned.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Aidan Breen<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

Glen Urquhart School, 6th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Where Are You?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I try to feel your ghostly presence thinking of you.<\/p>\n

Are you there?
\nI went to visit you at the hospital.<\/p>\n

I saw all the wires, IV tubes hooked up and blood rushing into your skin.<\/p>\n

She went over to see you that day.<\/p>\n

You smiled real tiny and started to cough.<\/p>\n

I remember the whole thing like it was yesterday.<\/p>\n

You started to cough real hard and Grammy got scared. She started yelling your name,<\/p>\n

“Jimmy, JIMMY!”<\/p>\n

You made it through that time so why not this time?<\/p>\n

I really didn’t understand what was happening then.<\/p>\n

When Mom told me to go away I knew something was wrong.<\/p>\n

I never thought this would happen to you.<\/p>\n

But I guess it did.<\/p>\n

So now you are really gone.
\nI was at your memorial.<\/p>\n

Four hundred people were there.<\/p>\n

Everyone knew you, I suppose.<\/p>\n

It was all-quiet. Hushed.<\/p>\n

You taught me many things. Some as simple as throwing a baseball.<\/p>\n

I’d sometimes be afraid. I’ve always been shy.<\/p>\n

But there is one last thing I need to ask you, “Where are you?”<\/p>\n

All I know is that you are gone.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alexandra Lees <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 11th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dreams on the Wind<\/strong><\/p>\n

Spring day, sun shining, I walk alone,<\/p>\n

feet hitting the sidewalk, one after the other,<\/p>\n

I hear them as they scuff the pavement,<\/p>\n

The wind sweeps past me,<\/p>\n

sends my hair flying like a flag,<\/p>\n

It whispers, “I know who you are<\/p>\n

and who you want to be,<\/p>\n

I see past your imperfections,<\/p>\n

I see your soul,”<\/p>\n

“I hear your heart beating,” roars the ocean,<\/p>\n

“I feel the passion stirring within you,<\/p>\n

it pounds through you like the waves crashing on my shore.”<\/p>\n

The trees reach out their fingers to the light,<\/p>\n

reaching, reaching, always reaching \u00adout.<\/p>\n

“We have had death,” they rustle,<\/p>\n

“But we have also had life,<\/p>\n

Without hope, we have nothing.”<\/p>\n

The wind whispers, “Keep dreaming,<\/p>\n

Keep hoping, keep being.”<\/p>\n

My eye sees gold dreams and sweet winds<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2009<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jordan Gentile
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Veteran’s Memorial, 4th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Earth Day <\/strong><\/p>\n

The tree is tall,
\nBut its home is still cut down for a mall.
\nThe bird can fly higher than oil
\nBut its escape is foiled
\nBecause oil makes it unable to fly.
\nBug spray keeps the bugs away
\nBut makes frogs die
\nA whale can flip a boat with its tail
\nBut if a boat hits it, its will to live fails.
\nThe worst thing for animals is pollution
\nWhich makes me come to this conclusion.
\nAlways help on Earth Day
\nTo help the Earth is the best way!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Meghaen Favazza
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 7th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Love
\n<\/strong> What is love?<\/p>\n

A mother’s care for her baby,<\/p>\n

A couple holding hands.<\/p>\n

From which comes life,<\/p>\n

Comes the ability to love.<\/p>\n

It’s not a must,<\/p>\n

Nor a need.<\/p>\n

Love is a privilege, an opportunity.<\/p>\n

What is love?<\/p>\n

It is intense and eternal,<\/p>\n

A difficult reality.<\/p>\n

How can you love?<\/p>\n

Listen to a person needy of a friend,<\/p>\n

Talk to a person needy of advice.<\/p>\n

What is a world without love?<\/p>\n

Nothing but a lonely shelter,<\/p>\n

A place of endless torture.<\/p>\n

What is love?<\/p>\n

Peace during a war,<\/p>\n

Forgiving a conflicted friend.<\/p>\n

That is love.<\/p>\n

Love is the strength,<\/p>\n

The intensity and courage of a relationship.<\/p>\n

And compared to love,<\/p>\n

Everything else is second best.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lucina Fox<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

5 Ways How He’s Not Like the Water and 10 More How He Is<\/strong><\/p>\n

got more than three forms:<\/p>\n

I’ve felt his ice, his rushing rivers, seen him<\/p>\n

evaporate, and then some.<\/p>\n

water’s not flammable<\/p>\n

but he lights me up burns right alongside me.<\/p>\n

so damn sweet my teeth ache.<\/p>\n

and pure? that boy’s a sinner: though I can’t say I don’t crave it.<\/p>\n

space between? a damn barrier.<\/p>\n

he couldn’t find a way from point a to point b.<\/p>\n

couldn’t move the dust and dirt to make a grand canyon<\/p>\n

yet I still managed to fall in<\/p>\n

or did I jump?<\/p>\n

oh, but his lips are cool like the river<\/p>\n

and his caress is omniscient like the lake<\/p>\n

he babbles like the brook<\/p>\n

but whispers like the waves.<\/p>\n

reminds me of summer,<\/p>\n

a force, to be reckoned with: could hold me under, could lift me up.<\/p>\n

thirst quencher (heart wrencher)<\/p>\n

the stuff of tears<\/p>\n

he filled my ears<\/p>\n

he slipped between my fingers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

2010<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jemma Johnson-Shoucair
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

East Gloucester, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

Hope <\/strong><\/p>\n

Leaping, jumping, falling<\/p>\n

Soaring when the stars come<\/p>\n

And still flying when the stars fall<\/p>\n

Diminished by the rain’s tear<\/p>\n

And grasped again by the rich earth<\/p>\n

It is as true as truth itself<\/p>\n

And more eternal than all eternity<\/p>\n

Hope is hope itself<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alessandra Moceri <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Gone With the Wind <\/strong><\/p>\n

Sitting in what we believe is here<\/p>\n

Watching intently as motionless sounds roam about<\/p>\n

As the trees stand claimed and waters sing a silent song<\/p>\n

What is the place of where I cannot see?<\/p>\n

Only by the force of what is taken unexpectedly<\/p>\n

How we live and how we’re gone<\/p>\n

When I look I see it<\/p>\n

And then, I think if what I had just seen was a reality<\/p>\n

Not sure of what has been witnessed<\/p>\n

Making no promises<\/p>\n

It’s there and then disappears<\/p>\n

Right before I get the chance to collect what I had just seen<\/p>\n

Teasing figures and motions taunt me<\/p>\n

Fearless of what is to happen<\/p>\n

Waiting contently<\/p>\n

Hoping for the best<\/p>\n

Waiting for the worst to come<\/p>\n

One step at a time<\/p>\n

Coming closer and closer<\/p>\n

Seeing the unseen<\/p>\n

The best is to come<\/p>\n

But it’s gone with the wind.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Katina Tibbetts
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The True Story
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

Everyone feels bad for her<\/p>\n

But she’s no angel<\/p>\n

The true story is<\/p>\n

She stole my prince charming<\/p>\n

She is my step sister<\/p>\n

But I am not evil<\/p>\n

She is not so nice<\/p>\n

Underneath that innocent exterior<\/p>\n

That magical pumpkin<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And mice the morph into horses<\/p>\n

Those are all lies<\/p>\n

And that beautiful gown she wore<\/p>\n

Well, that dress was mine.<\/p>\n

Along with my gown,<\/p>\n

She took my glass slippers too.<\/p>\n

She ran away to the ball<\/p>\n

Before I even knew.<\/p>\n

And after she wooed him<\/p>\n

I tried to explain<\/p>\n

She was nothing but a liar<\/p>\n

And a downright thief too,<\/p>\n

He wanted to believe me,<\/p>\n

So he said,<\/p>\n

“Try on the shoe.”<\/p>\n

I returned home<\/p>\n

To retrieve that slipper<\/p>\n

And as I walked in<\/p>\n

I heard that evil little snicker<\/p>\n

I didn’t realize how far<\/p>\n

She would go<\/p>\n

And then she went and closed<\/p>\n

The door on my toe.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t believe it<\/p>\n

My foot was too big<\/p>\n

My prince charming gave me<\/p>\n

A sad look and said,<\/p>\n

“Sorry, you’re not my perfect fit.”<\/p>\n

So this is my story<\/p>\n

You don’t have to believe me<\/p>\n

You can think,<\/p>\n

“Cinderella?! She wouldn’t hurt a thing!”<\/p>\n

But she did, she stole my prince charming.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2011<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span>\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0 <\/strong><\/p>\n

Rumi Thomas<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Cape Ann Waldorf School, 2nd Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Misty Seas<\/strong><\/p>\n

Far away on the misty seas, where the whales come and go,<\/p>\n

where the sharks hunt their prey,<\/p>\n

where the seal pups play<\/p>\n

amongst the cresting waves,<\/p>\n

where the foghorns blow their low-pitched tunes,<\/p>\n

where the lighthouses\u00a0shine their yellow light<\/p>\n

so the sailors may find their way home again<\/p>\n

far away on the misty seas.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Enzo Paganetti<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 6th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Desk<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am forgotten in the corner,<\/p>\n

Nobody to use me, no one to move me.<\/p>\n

I think about the life I’ve had<\/p>\n

As I wait inside the dark.<\/p>\n

I’ve seen the ages passing by,<\/p>\n

Seen the children grow and grow<\/p>\n

As I collect dust in the cellar.<\/p>\n

I’ve read the books stored inside me,<\/p>\n

Felt the work stuffed inside me<\/p>\n

As I remain in this tiny room.<\/p>\n

I remember the itching scribbles of pen;<\/p>\n

I long for it to happen again,<\/p>\n

But now I abide in this gloom.<\/p>\n

I’ve heard the lectures of the teachers;<\/p>\n

Now I remember them all.<\/p>\n

As I rest in this murkiness,<\/p>\n

The weight of books<\/p>\n

I’ll miss so much,<\/p>\n

I think of this and much more<\/p>\n

As I stand, expelled and rejected.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jaclyn Canillas<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 11th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Eternal Gem <\/strong><\/p>\n

(This poem was inspired by the Greek myth of the amaranth flowers – amaranth means “never fading” and is a symbol of immortality.)<\/p>\n

Ah, the eternal amaranth,<\/p>\n

stuck between the\u00a0 tides,<\/p>\n

unable to complete the cycle<\/p>\n

of life and death.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Always in the sunlight, and never the shade,<\/p>\n

beautiful and lonely,<\/p>\n

an earthbound angel<\/p>\n

tied down to the seedlings of the ground,<\/p>\n

with no wings to carry it away.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A mere flower,<\/p>\n

elegant and warm as the sun above<\/p>\n

but reserve and silent as the stars.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Struggling to blow out the remaining flame of the candle,<\/p>\n

Afraid to lift the veil and find out what is on the others side.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A gem of the fields,<\/p>\n

A delicate beauty of the earth<\/p>\n

Just waiting to be set free.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2012<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Willa Lepionka Brosnihan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

West Parish School, 3rd Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Under the Waves\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Under the lapping, dancing waves<\/p>\n

Is a world of water people<\/p>\n

With tails and fins and scales to swim<\/p>\n

Under the beautiful, wonderful waves.<\/p>\n

They play with dolphins,<\/p>\n

They sing with whales<\/p>\n

Under the magnificent, mighty waves.<\/p>\n

They swim with seals,<\/p>\n

They jump with fish<\/p>\n

Under the strong, lovable waves.<\/p>\n

They race with crabs,<\/p>\n

They dance with eels<\/p>\n

Under the churning, pounding waves.<\/p>\n

They take care of the shellfish,<\/p>\n

And they live with the lobsters<\/p>\n

Under the waves,<\/p>\n

The lapping dancing, beautiful, wonderful, magnificent, mighty, strong,<\/p>\n

Lovable, churning, pounding waves.<\/p>\n

But what they love the most are the waves,<\/p>\n

The perfect waves,<\/p>\n

Their home, the waves.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Aislinn McCormack\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

St. Ann School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Neither Nor<\/strong><\/p>\n

They say I am too young<\/p>\n

But aren’t I much too old?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’m too old to sleep with the lights on,<\/p>\n

Too young to go anywhere by myself,<\/p>\n

Too old to need help with my homework,<\/p>\n

Yet young enough to need help with major decisions.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’m too young to form my own opinions,<\/p>\n

Too old to afford not to.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Too old to be so na\u00efve,<\/p>\n

But too young to be so distrusting.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’m old enough to see the shades of gray between the black and white,<\/p>\n

But I’m little so I can’t do anything about it.<\/p>\n

Furthermore, I’m big enough to hear about all the world’s suffering,<\/p>\n

Too small to make a difference.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I’m too young to take all these insults to heart,<\/p>\n

Too experienced to just deal with it,<\/p>\n

Far too old for such outbursts,<\/p>\n

Too young to keep them from slipping out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Young enough to try my best,<\/p>\n

Old enough to know it wasn’t good enough.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Too young to be so knowing,<\/p>\n

Too old to be so ignorant.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am not an adult<\/p>\n

Nor am I a child.<\/p>\n

I don’t fit in,<\/p>\n

Nor quite stick out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whether it’s rain or shine, thick or thin<\/p>\n

I wouldn’t want it any other way.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sarah Zuidema<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Little Reminders<\/strong><\/p>\n

Territories are marked with rainbow umbrellas,<\/p>\n

While wind blows hot sand against damp skin,<\/p>\n

Stinging on contact.<\/p>\n

Burns can be felt creeping onto cheekbones,<\/p>\n

And tanned hides are pulled taut with the salt and sun.<\/p>\n

The world’s giant mirror pounds the shore with its shards,<\/p>\n

Cracked piece of broken dreams left scattered along the beach.<\/p>\n

Chairs are left, tattered and worn,<\/p>\n

An assembly of soldiers<\/p>\n

Standing for peace,<\/p>\n

Beaten with rounded pebbles and stones.<\/p>\n

Sea glass shimmers in the sunshine,<\/p>\n

Colorful memories and souls,<\/p>\n

Hovering just out of reach.<\/p>\n

Friendly lspirits smile in the sea spray<\/p>\n

And dance between sunbeams.<\/p>\n

Laughter from summers past<\/p>\n

Rides the shite crests to shore,<\/p>\n

Crashing in giddy mounds on sandcastles by the waves.<\/p>\n

The seagulls mock,<\/p>\n

Their shrieks vibrating the air,<\/p>\n

Whipping breezes across the lonely crowd of people.<\/p>\n

Each thought waddle its way down the slit<\/p>\n

Where the hot sand meets the cold,<\/p>\n

The dry meets the wet,<\/p>\n

And the heavy summer air wrestles with the salty gusts.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2013<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Willa Brosnihan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

West Parish School, 4th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Waiting Drawer<\/strong><\/p>\n

In a drawer, the waiting drawer, sits a tiny porcelain doll with a chip on her chin<\/p>\n

and grandmother’s missing diamond pin.<\/p>\n

A baby doll wishing to go to bed,<\/p>\n

a note that I have not yet read.<\/p>\n

An earring that is missing its match,<\/p>\n

a pair of jeans that needs a patch.<\/p>\n

A page torn out of a book,<\/p>\n

a poster of a wanted crook.<\/p>\n

A mirror that has cracked in two,<\/p>\n

a picture of someone, maybe it’s you!<\/p>\n

Waiting to be fixed, or used, kplayed with<\/p>\n

or just found.<\/p>\n

Waiting in the waiting drawer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mark Turner<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

Eastern Point Day School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Girl in the Window<\/strong><\/p>\n

Her window is the perfect spot to sit.<\/p>\n

She sits there with her legs crossed<\/p>\n

leaning up against the concrete wall.<\/p>\n

Her wardrobe is a light blue collared shirt,<\/p>\n

thick brown belt,<\/p>\n

and a navy blue skirt that hangs four inches above her knees.<\/p>\n

Her long, luxurious, luscious, thick brown hair falls halfway down her back;<\/p>\n

not one strand hangs out of place.<\/p>\n

She’s tall with long olive legs<\/p>\n

and the perfect crisp face.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After six months looking at her<\/p>\n

I’ve found my courage to talk.<\/p>\n

I come around the corner, my legs wobbling.<\/p>\n

She is studying her biology text book.<\/p>\n

When I’m within five feet of her,<\/p>\n

She looks up and a subtle grin forms on her face.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jordan Westling<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 11th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

175 Pounds<\/strong><\/p>\n

I tugged hard on his hand once, twice, a third,<\/p>\n

And finally he complied.<\/p>\n

The low tide burnt my nose as we walked closer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As I tugged and pulled<\/p>\n

His face remained passive.<\/p>\n

His hands were weathered from the years<\/p>\n

Leaving the end result similar to leather.<\/p>\n

His rough juxtaposed my soft<\/p>\n

Making it easy for my contours to catch his.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He outweighed me by at least 100 pounds<\/p>\n

But he allowed himself to be pulled.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The spot was nice, maybe not ideal,<\/p>\n

But neither was he.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He pulled out the rods silently,<\/p>\n

And I happily picked mine from his hands.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Despite my need to break the silence I kept quiet.<\/p>\n

Those were his silent wishes.<\/p>\n

I looked up at his worn face<\/p>\n

and saw the look of peace<\/p>\n

That had evaded his eyes for so long.<\/p>\n

A tug at the line interrupted my thoughts, moving my attention to the water.<\/p>\n

When I looked back up, it was different.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He was no longer sitting up with his rod.<\/p>\n

He no longer had slim weather hands.<\/p>\n

He no longer had a look of peace.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I looked up and we were back.<\/p>\n

Back to the uncomfortable white room,<\/p>\n

Back to him lying down,<\/p>\n

Back to his swollen dry hands.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back to his worn face being obscured by tubes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

******************<\/p>\n

The poetry contest was not held in 2014.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

******************<\/p>\n

2015<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

George King<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place (shared), Elementary School<\/p>\n

East Gloucester Elementary School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blank Slate<\/strong>
\nA blank page<\/p>\n

An erased whiteboard<\/p>\n

Inspiring, beckoning for thoughts<\/p>\n

A new Idea<\/p>\n

Forever captured In writing<\/p>\n

An Idea<\/p>\n

While you will not live<\/p>\n

Your Ideas live on<\/p>\n

A new idea for everyone to use and honor<\/p>\n

An Idea can make a dream<\/p>\n

Or destroy one<\/p>\n

Like knowledge Ideas have power<\/p>\n

Ideas make life<\/p>\n

An Idea has a purpose<\/p>\n

Your Ideas are your monuments<\/p>\n

Treasure them<\/p>\n

New thoughts, fresh starts<\/p>\n

Mean something<\/p>\n

A second chance<\/p>\n

To produce an Idea<\/p>\n

Old Ideas don\u2019t always last<\/p>\n

They are burnt, thrown out<\/p>\n

Which can be good, it gives space<\/p>\n

For new ideas from the next generation<\/p>\n

But sometimes old Ideas are priceless<\/p>\n

With Ideas<\/p>\n

Everyone has a chance<\/p>\n

An Idea is special<\/p>\n

It can take a month or years<\/p>\n

Old Ideas evolve into new, better Ideas<\/p>\n

And you don\u2019t have to leave<\/p>\n

Ideas to scientists<\/p>\n

You can have your own at home<\/p>\n

A new Idea may be good or bad<\/p>\n

But if you try, your Idea can be<\/p>\n

Whatever\u2026<\/p>\n

An Idea doesn\u2019t have to be known to be respected<\/p>\n

An idea does not have to be complete<\/p>\n

Other people can open it up<\/p>\n

Discover more<\/p>\n

Your Idea, when told to others Is not yours anymore<\/p>\n

An Idea is like an electrical charge<\/p>\n

Or a time bomb, ready to explode<\/p>\n

When your Idea explodes<\/p>\n

You have changed the world.<\/p>\n

Your Ideas, my Ideas work in harmony<\/p>\n

My Idea can take your idea further<\/p>\n

Ideas can be anything, change anything<\/p>\n

Built on Ideas the world becomes better<\/p>\n

Your Idea can be one of those<\/p>\n

An Idea with purpose is the best Idea of<\/p>\n

All but an Idea with hard work behind it<\/p>\n

Has its own amazing journey<\/p>\n

A person\u2019s idea doesn\u2019t have to be famous<\/p>\n

To gain its own kind of fame<\/p>\n

An Idea doesn\u2019t have to be widely used<\/p>\n

Even if only one person likes it<\/p>\n

It has a place in the world<\/p>\n

And if nobody likes it<\/p>\n

You can create another<\/p>\n

A new idea<\/p>\n

Maybe just what the world needs.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Charles King<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner (shared)<\/p>\n

East Gloucester Elementary School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fireworks<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Big explosions in the sky,<\/p>\n

A matchstick\u2019s all it needs to fly,<\/p>\n

Up into its burning flight,<\/p>\n

Up to the sky in the quiet night.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sky a cloak of midnight black,<\/p>\n

It flies along its careful track,<\/p>\n

Then explodes in colors bright,<\/p>\n

Up in the sky in the quiet night.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The ashes fall right to the ground,<\/p>\n

Falling softly without a sound,<\/p>\n

A couple of sparks still burn bright,<\/p>\n

And there\u2019s the sky and the quiet night.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

All rockets gone but you still gaze,<\/p>\n

So long that your eyes glaze,<\/p>\n

There still seems to be a sacred light,<\/p>\n

That keeps you looking at the sky and the night.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mila Barry<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

O\u2019Maley School, 6th Grade
\nLiving in The Valley Green<\/strong><\/p>\n

For a lifetime<\/p>\n

I<\/p>\n

Throve there, in brush<\/p>\n

Living<\/p>\n

When the sky turned cream<\/p>\n

When the rain came tumbling, sliding upon the dirt<\/p>\n

I saw<\/p>\n

Those nights of silk whisper<\/p>\n

And the days sing<\/p>\n

Oh the summers<\/p>\n

Which I did spend there<\/p>\n

Dancing with the infinite open stars<\/p>\n

Flying through gentle moonshine, twirling through the everlasting sun<\/p>\n

The world was smiling the whole time<\/p>\n

If only I had looked about and saw it<\/p>\n

Oh the winters<\/p>\n

Snarling pains<\/p>\n

Forever came snow<\/p>\n

And the winds screamed, threatened by a knife<\/p>\n

Such terror never leaves<\/p>\n

All the time the willows wept<\/p>\n

And hunched<\/p>\n

And with them cried along<\/p>\n

So long<\/p>\n

Forever is so long<\/p>\n

So went the years, whisked away<\/p>\n

By breezes ever sweet<\/p>\n

And ever gentle<\/p>\n

Far too many<\/p>\n

Memories rode like leaves upon that tinkling wind<\/p>\n

Never blowing back<\/p>\n

My life Is printed in that valley so green<\/p>\n

Though the sun has long since sunk beneath waves<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Emily Ryan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 11th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Loving in Reverse<\/strong><\/p>\n

And I expected each goodbye<\/p>\n

To be forgotten eventually.<\/p>\n

And I dreamed that the rain<\/p>\n

Would fall back into the sky,<\/p>\n

Impregnating the clouds<\/p>\n

With tears they would never have to shed.<\/p>\n

That waterfalls would defy gravity,<\/p>\n

And their foamy cascades would land,<\/p>\n

Cushioned by the stars.<\/p>\n

And the blood a-playing through air backwards,<\/p>\n

Being sucked back into the pathways<\/p>\n

Of your brilliant, ingenious mind,<\/p>\n

Filling it, reborn, with the warm breath of life.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That the bullet that perpetrated<\/p>\n

The gates of your skull<\/p>\n

Would recede through its metal chamber,<\/p>\n

Back to its cold and lethal bed.<\/p>\n

And the chemicals ignited<\/p>\n

Would snuff out into packaged, manufactured elements<\/p>\n

Waiting for their destruction.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And the waltz we did before we rested<\/p>\n

Would be what we awakened to<\/p>\n

Each and every day.<\/p>\n

Our skin would grow tighter and fuller,<\/p>\n

And our hearts would ignite to the melody of love.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And I expected each goodbye<\/p>\n

To create the yearning<\/p>\n

For a new<\/p>\n

Hello.
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong>\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/h1>\n

2016<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

Sean Bergin <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Elementary School<\/p>\n

East Gloucester School, Grade 5<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A Mysterious Wonder<\/strong><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t exist,
\nBut I\u2019m always here.
\nBrave people fear me
\nWhen I am near.
\nThe poor own me,
\nThe rich have known me.
\nIf you eat me, you die.
\nI fill what\u2019s empty,
\nYet I have no mass.
\nI am more fragile than any glass.
\nTo most I\u2019m an opportunity,
\nA blank slate
\nThat carries a flamboyant fate.
\nI am a secret
\nThat cannot be broken.
\nI am Nothing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mila Barry <\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place. Middle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley Innovation School, Grade 7<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Spoken like Words on the Wind<\/strong><\/p>\n

Hush, Hush
\nCan you hear it?
\nRushing, rapid, through the reeds,
\nSinging softly as it weaves.
\nCan you? Can you?<\/p>\n

Shhh\u2026
\nLet the silence
\nWhisper as it calms the violence!
\nLet the quiet come.
\nCan you hear it?
\nCan you? Can you?<\/p>\n

Please,
\nListen!<\/p>\n

Grassy glades give way to sunlit days,
\nWhich stretch into forever.
\nBut only if you listen.
\nCan you hear it?
\nCan you?
\nWill it come?<\/p>\n

Look,
\nTowards the moon.
\nThe darkness is like silence.
\nIt is slippery.
\nIt is naturally.
\nIt will fill you with a peculiar emptiness,
\nBleach you paperwhite,
\nThen allow you to be covered
\nIn light, noise; perhaps they are one and the same.
\nCan you hear it? Can you, now?<\/p>\n

Feel it!
\nWater trips over sandy stones,
\nSitting cool on earthen bones,
\nLucid as thoughts.
\nHere it is, plain as day,
\nRiding on the song of the river!
\nOooooooooo
\nCan you hear it?
\nCan you?<\/p>\n

Breathe!
\nSweetness is enfolded in the spring breeze.
\nIt will lie to you with ease!
\nLet you believe that it will free you,
\nPick you up and watch you fly.
\nBut then, what is the difference
\nBetween believing and reality?
\nSo can you hear it? Can you?<\/p>\n

The truth
\nIs an odd thing
\nBecause I know that you can hear it.
\nSo tell me,
\nTell me please,
\nWhat do you hear?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Anya Fulmer<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, High School<\/p>\n

Rockport High School, Grade 9<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Autumn<\/strong><\/p>\n

A battle is raging here;
\nChill gusts sweep fiery patterns up
\nTo freeze the soldiers so near.<\/p>\n

Beneath the high unforgiving blue,
\nGolds and browns are taking this;
\nA season comes anew.<\/p>\n

This weakened majesty trembles so,
\nShudders and sways in the wind,
\nBows his mighty crown that low,<\/p>\n

Bows from summer into dark,
\nCrashing to the forest floor below,
\nRed swirls to rest on a fallen monarch.<\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

<\/h1>\n

<\/h1>\n

2017 Poetry Contest Winners<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Wilhelmina Rolf Thaemert<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Elementary<\/p>\n

Glen Urquhart School, Grade Three<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A Girl<\/strong><\/p>\n

A girl walked out of her house and slowly stepped down the rocky
\npath.
\nShe felt the wind on her shoulders and looked up to see the pretty
\nnight sky.
\nShe heard the sound of a frog in the nearby pond.
\nAnd kept walking.
\nRain started falling and as it dripped on the sidewalk it reminded her
\nof standing in a stream playing.
\nShe saw, as the rain stopped, a butterfly on the ground, wet.
\nShe picked it up carefully and set it on a plant.
\nIt took a while but it flew away and she flew with it into the clouds
\nand away.
\nWilla Brosnihan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Middle School<\/p>\n

O\u2019Maley Middle School, 8th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Time and Quiet<\/strong><\/p>\n

Blue painted clay-ware holds it,
\nCinnamon-sugar my mother mixed,
\nBelonging to burned toast,
\nAnd mushy summer-butter.<\/p>\n

It is in the white cabinet,
\nNext to prescription bottles,
\nAnd cloves of garlic,
\nTheir long leaves braided.<\/p>\n

The fever in July,
\nMy mother made toast for my writhing stomach,
\nLike her mother made,
\nCinnamon sugar toast,
\nWet towels,
\nAnd ginger ale.<\/p>\n

I would read picture books,
\nI would leave summer-butter fingerprints,
\nOn the pages of Patricia Polacco,
\nDoctor Seuss,
\nTo find now,
\nGrease stains a keepsake,
\nCrumbs and dust and sugar and spice clinging,
\nIn the spines.<\/p>\n

In the clay container it clumps and separates,
\nAs it sits forgotten,
\nFor stretches of time,
\nTime,
\nTime,
\nNext to prescription bottles,
\nAnd cloves of garlic,
\nWith long leaves braided.
\nIt is rediscovered,<\/p>\n

On days too hot for pancakes,
\nWhen the milk is curdled,
\nIt is rediscovered,
\nAnd breakfast tastes like the softer parts of sick days.<\/p>\n

In the hotel dining room,
\nYou spread dense packaged butter on both sides of your bread.<\/p>\n

I thought of the Butter Battle Book as you told me,
\nThat you put cinnamon sugar,
\nOn your toast at home.<\/p>\n

And then,<\/p>\n

I wished only for time,<\/p>\n

And quiet,<\/p>\n

To tell you the bedtime story,
\nThat ends with books marked with sweet honey,
\nThe sticky reminder,
\nMuch like my summer-butter blotches.<\/p>\n

I wish only for time and quiet,<\/p>\n

Quiet,<\/p>\n

Quiet,<\/p>\n

To show you the childhood in the lacquered blue,
\nAnd the bit of me,
\nOn both sides of your toast.<\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t changed since then,
\nSince sick days,
\npicture books.
\nTo know me is to know me as I always have been,
\nFilled with these narratives,
\nAnd tasting of cinnamon sugar.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Jemma Johnson-Shoucair<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, High School<\/p>\n

Marblehead High School, 12th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Deeper The Shipwreck The More Precious The Treasure<\/strong><\/p>\n

I want you back so badly sometimes
\nI can still taste you in my mouth the
\nScent of a home i have escaped from a
\nRefugee of my own body searching to make
\nA place for myself in this skin
\nMy body a temple where i can find shelter from the
\nLooks you give her while i
\nIgnore your gaze pretending everything
\nIs fine pretending i don\u2019t feel the ground
\nSlipping out from underneath me hoping
\nI have grown wings solid enough to fly when
\nThe earth is gone and i am
\nLeft in a cloud of my doubts ones
\nStrong enough to pull me under a
\nShip lost in the bottom of the ocean one
\nThat everyone wants to find but nobody has
\nMy yearning the treasure in the hull of my ribs
\nMy heart beating out a rescue signal hoping you will hear it
\nAnd come back to find yourself in my arms but
\nI forgot we cannot breathe underwater and
\nDreams don\u2019t exist when I am awake so I
\nSleep to rid myself of you the only
\nTime when i do not imagine your hands in her hair
\nKissing her sweetly the character i used to play and
\nHad almost forgotten that actors can be replaced while
\nThe play still goes on and i am left to
\nForge my own kingdom in the empty castle you abandoned for i
\nAm not afraid of solitude i am afraid of
\nWatching you find me in another\u2019s eyes watching
\nMyself move on too slowly and too quickly at the same time
\nI have lost a best friend
\nI will not pretend it doesn\u2019t hurt i will not pretend that
\nSome days i can\u2019t imagine the sky is still above me and
\nThat morning will follow the stars and i
\nForget to look at the stars
\nThe same elements i am made of chasing off the darkness
\nBurning without fear of fading knowing
\nThat when they die they will have two options:
\nTo explode into a supernova or
\nImplode in on themselves to become a black hole i feel
\nI am doing both at once my lungs collapsing with
\nEvery breath while straining with the weight of the oxygen they take
\nin
\nMy diaphragm tired of holding my body up
\nMy heart restless in my chest pounding a beat that I once thought
\nYou could hear music to but now
\nI am left to decipher its rhythm to craft
\nNotes from its cadence ones that i will dance to when
\nI am on my own ones that i will sing to when I
\nFear my voice has grown too soft to understand
\nIn the end you have lost one of the only people you can trust and
\nReplaced me with a substitute to carry you through these months
\nbefore
\nYou leave burdened with regrets you have lost
\nThe wild woman who will haunt your dreams the one who inexplicably
\nCaught your breath it was you who decided to open your heart and
\nIt was you who decided to close it again leaving me on
\nThe outside of someone i thought i knew i
\nKnow how to climb walls to build bridges through the rubble of
\nHeartbreak but i will only be an unwelcome visitor one
\nWho is not quite an enemy but you still do not want
\nTo share your home with a
\nThorn in your side that you pull knowing
\nThe space left behind will heal not knowing if
\nIt will leave a scar
\nYou are one of the best things that has ever happened to me i
\nDo not regret loving you with all i had learning that
\nI am allowed to heal to sink back into the
\nMold my body had made years ago but was waiting
\nFor me to find
\nI am one of the best things that has ever happened to you someone
\nWho let you be a child while still holding the title of a man
\nOne who kept your dream in my pocket for safekeeping
\nRolling around with promises i still intend to fulfill I
\nAm the best thing that has ever happened to me
\nWhen I cry myself to sleep my eyes will still open in the morning
\nforcing
\nMe to move on the muscles in my face will chew my food my
\nThroat will swallow keeping me alive i am forever grateful for the
\nBeauty my body has graced me with the way my legs stretch out
\nWhen i run pretending there is nothing behind me my chest heaving
\nWith the hope that I will never have to stop my mind
\nA constant whirlwind of ideas ones that can be overwhelming but
\nWhat storm isn\u2019t
\nI am a hurricane, a fire, a quiet chaos waiting to turn into a roar
\nI am the silence after an unnecessary apology the feeling
\nIn your throat when you hold back tears i am
\nThe hand that holds you steady and the one that grabs you
\nDown i will not be silent because you can\u2019t hear yourself think i
\nWill only be silent to hear the beat of my pounding heart
\nLeading me back home<\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

<\/h1>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/h1>\n

2018 Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/strong><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

Josie West<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Elementary School<\/p>\n

West Parish School, 5th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They Called her Moses<\/strong><\/p>\n

(Harriet Tubman: 1820-1913)<\/p>\n

Small girl, age seven<\/p>\n

Rough linen shirt over black body<\/p>\n

Deep sober eyes, scared.<\/p>\n

Clip clop, clip clop.<\/p>\n

Being sold.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For twenty-three years<\/p>\n

Scars crisscross her back<\/p>\n

She watches sisters, brothers sold off,<\/p>\n

Fearful it will be her next.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Following the night,<\/p>\n

Slips of paper guide her<\/p>\n

To strangers\u2019 houses.<\/p>\n

Stop by stop<\/p>\n

She finds her way to freedom.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Free…but can\u2019t rest;<\/p>\n

She dreams dreams, receives<\/p>\n

Visions — answers to prayers,<\/p>\n

Answers showing her\u00a0 The way to protecting her people.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Silently\u00a0 She slinks through the underbrush<\/p>\n

Silently<\/p>\n

She glides along the ground<\/p>\n

Knock, knock. Secret password: A friend of friends<\/p>\n

Inside: Food. Hope. Light.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ten years<\/p>\n

Nineteen trips<\/p>\n

Three hundred slaves<\/p>\n

Not one passenger lost!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elijah Sarrouf<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place,\u00a0Middle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley School, 7th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back Then<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Back then, when the flowers bloomed
\nSo bright and beautiful,
\nWhen the bees would chant
\nIn buzzing tones and collect and pollinate,
\nWe were so scared the bees would sting.
\nBut that was all back then.<\/p>\n

Back then we basked in summer sun
\nAnd hid between the rocks
\nBuilt in the mud castles of miniature,
\nThen cool off in the blanket of turquoise.
\nWe would go on a walk and or run and climb away.
\nBut that was all back then.<\/p>\n

Back then, the leaves would jump off the trees
\nAnd fall to the ground in vibrant reds and yellows.
\nThe wind would carry them, all the while assuring you,
\n\u201cLet us take you with us.\u201d
\nCan you hear them, do you listen?
\nBut that was all back then.<\/p>\n

Back then, the winter snow would glow
\nSo bright, so beautiful.
\nYou put on the mittens, the hats, the boots,
\nAnd jump right in the veil of white.
\nWe would skate across the frozen ice.
\nBut that was all back then.<\/p>\n

I remember those days,
\nBack then, back then.
\nI remember the flowers blooming
\nAnd the summer sun
\nAnd the wind come to take us away.
\nI remember the snow,
\nBut I have a question: Do you remember,
\nDo you recall, what we did back then?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Willa Brosnihan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place,\u00a0High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 9th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Caf\u00e9 Lameiros<\/strong><\/p>\n

The four sit at the table,
\noutside the cafe,
\nthe women perched on the knees of their men,
\nunderwear showing neon through tight pants,
\nhair loose and dark against their skin.
\nThere is a symmetry to it,
\nthe way the shoulders slump down to the table,
\nwork-worn hands,
\nbrown with sun,
\nresting
\non the lower backs of their women.
\nThere is such splendor
\nin the four
\nat the table,
\nwith their laughter,
\nthe goodness of touch unabashed.
\nThey are the truth
\nas they sit in the shade,
\nthe hills around them green and dotted with ruins,
\nthe grey-brown skeleton cork trees,
\nthe living drinking coffee and the dead stacked in their graves,
\na child giving fresh dirt,
\nto the worms of her mother.
\nAnd here are these women,
\nperched on the knees of their men, beautiful,
\nbelonging to the countryside,
\nbelonging to the dead and to their children,
\nand the four at the table —
\nthey look like modern art painted by someone
\nwho changed everything.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2019 Poetry Contest Winners<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

\n<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

Lyall Cunningham<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Plum Cover School, Grade 5<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Trees<\/strong><\/p>\n

If they could talk,<\/p>\n

Then I wonder<\/p>\n

What would they say?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Would they tell us about the stones,<\/p>\n

For example,<\/p>\n

About their smooth plain surfaces sometimes covered in splotches<\/p>\n

Of different colors?<\/p>\n

About how they were created thousands of years ago, or<\/p>\n

In some cases just recently?<\/p>\n

By a volcano,<\/p>\n

For example?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And how they affect everyone\u2019s lives,<\/p>\n

Our ancestors\u2019 lives?<\/p>\n

But they can\u2019t, so I just tell them about the world<\/p>\n

Beyond, where they came to stand for all of these years until now.<\/p>\n

I wish that I could ask them about the world<\/p>\n

So many years ago,<\/p>\n

But they cannot answer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elijah Sarrouf<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Middle School<\/p>\n

O\u2019Maley Innovation Middle School, Grade 8<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Old Town <\/strong><\/p>\n

Great stone walls<\/p>\n

surround the metropolis<\/p>\n

of ancient times,<\/p>\n

encompassing a limestone mountain range,<\/p>\n

Its gray piers<\/p>\n

jutting into the rich ambrosial sea<\/p>\n

of impossibly clear turquoise.<\/p>\n

Smelling of ancient innovation<\/p>\n

and tasting of candied orange rinds.<\/p>\n

The city\u2019s dark alleys lead into<\/p>\n

the maze of old houses,<\/p>\n

meandering endlessly through secret markets,<\/p>\n

restaurants beckoning weary travelers,<\/p>\n

\u201cCome eat here \u201cMolim!\u201d<\/p>\n

Cafes wafting fragrances of<\/p>\n

burek and opulent teas.<\/p>\n

Prosperous palaces perched precariously<\/p>\n

on slopes that climb high over the city<\/p>\n

like a wave about to crash.<\/p>\n

Chapels lined with statues<\/p>\n

foretell of archaic religions<\/p>\n

and mysterious gods.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A massive clocktower spire<\/p>\n

rises above the<\/p>\n

orange-tiled roofs<\/p>\n

and calls boastfully of its knowledge.<\/p>\n

Yet with all the history<\/p>\n

of unresolved wars,<\/p>\n

cruel battles,<\/p>\n

and forgotten warriors,<\/p>\n

in all the commotion<\/p>\n

of seaport revolution,<\/p>\n

this is a quaint, loved town<\/p>\n

that stands still<\/p>\n

as the world moves on.<\/p>\n

The town is a painted town,<\/p>\n

lasting only in fond memories.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Autumn-Marie Silva<\/strong><\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, Grade 10<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Star-Cross\u2019d Lovers<\/strong><\/p>\n

O\u2019Fate!<\/p>\n

Cruel, vexatious Fate!<\/p>\n

Thy threads of barb\u00e9d\u00a0wire<\/p>\n

String us together<\/p>\n

Like gnats to a spider\u2019s web.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

O\u2019Love,<\/p>\n

Sickly sweet<\/p>\n

Dripping down my throat<\/p>\n

From a golden goblet<\/p>\n

Its rim dipped in sugary poison<\/p>\n

Burns mine lips<\/p>\n

But still I sip again.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And when the goblet is emptied<\/p>\n

What do I find<\/p>\n

But a spider?<\/p>\n

Nay, not a spider, but its web.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fingers down my throat<\/p>\n

I wretch up this silvery twine,<\/p>\n

But too late I see,<\/p>\n

For the blood that follows<\/p>\n

Stains my milky fingers,<\/p>\n

Saints\u2019 palms.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Too quickly did I gulp this intoxicating elixir,<\/p>\n

But would the spider not have lain in wait<\/p>\n

No matter how slowly I sipped?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Was this some consequence<\/p>\n

Yet hanging in the stars<\/p>\n

That I was too blind to see?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

More importantly,<\/p>\n

Would seeing this consequence<\/p>\n

Have done a thing to stop my thirsty lips<\/p>\n

From suckling thy poisoned breast<\/p>\n

O\u2019Aphrodite!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2020 Poetry Contest Winners<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Note: Due to complications caused by the Covid 19 pandemic, there were no Elementary School winners during this contest cycle.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Josephine West
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Middle School<\/p>\n

O\u2019Maley Innovation Middle School, Grade 7<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hymns and Handstands<\/strong><\/p>\n

Pencil rests behind his ear,<\/p>\n

critical eye judges:<\/p>\n

bones, sticks, clouds<\/p>\n

littered across pages.<\/p>\n

A purring motor drones from a cocoon of blankets,<\/p>\n

Queen Clementine ruling her kingdom,<\/p>\n

a stationary monarch.<\/p>\n

Seagulls screech outside-<\/p>\n

she flies, a blurry orange streak.<\/p>\n

Cat thunders downstairs<\/p>\n

to a graceful gymnast,<\/p>\n

legs suspended in air, until-<\/p>\n

crash!<\/p>\n

She falls, a heap of limbs.<\/p>\n

Joining joyful ruckus,<\/p>\n

my fingers slide up and down frets,<\/p>\n

plucking notes that drift<\/p>\n

into the magic kitchen.<\/p>\n

Sweet-smelling slightly charred carrots,<\/p>\n

creamy feta, crunchy-smooth walnuts topped<\/p>\n

with spring-smelling sprigs of dill<\/p>\n

prompt a chorus of growls from our stomachs.<\/p>\n

Chord sheets pepper the island,<\/p>\n

strums and stirs synchronized,<\/p>\n

handstand percussion<\/p>\n

drumming out the beat.<\/p>\n

Artist descends, stairs creaking.<\/p>\n

We gather.<\/p>\n

Chef hollers orders,<\/p>\n

and we oblige<\/p>\n

with minimal grumbling.<\/p>\n

Prettily presented veggies blanket table.<\/p>\n

We sit, our hands linked.<\/p>\n

Meows accompany our grateful refrain,<\/p>\n

and at last, we feast.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Willa Brosnihan<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, Grade 11<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Refilling<\/strong><\/p>\n

Finger depress the tongue-latch of the door,<\/p>\n

trigger her gag reflex and slide,<\/p>\n

leaving open, hoping no other feels the draft and closes,<\/p>\n

out, across the parking lot,<\/p>\n

too quick a trip for a coat, arms crossed and nose up,<\/p>\n

smelling ice, smoke from the kitchen,<\/p>\n

the plain reverse of Main Street lit in orange.<\/p>\n

The flashlight, click the button three times,<\/p>\n

it must be convinced. Open<\/p>\n

the cathedral mouth of the shipping container and shine in<\/p>\n

the light, look for hiders, girl snatchers,<\/p>\n

find none.<\/p>\n

Enter like Pinocchio, unhumble, biblical,<\/p>\n

into the whale. Tickle her insides for replacements,<\/p>\n

for the things used up. It is supremely quiet.<\/p>\n

It is cold. Run back across the parking lot now,<\/p>\n

be re-swallowed like a lover after betrayal,<\/p>\n

forgiven, and stack,<\/p>\n

what you\u2019ve gathered<\/p>\n

where it\u2019s easy to find. Watch Fransisco, Frankie,<\/p>\n

sorting silverware. The clatter.<\/p>\n

You are among people. Outside<\/p>\n

you\u2019d been like rhythm,<\/p>\n

unfelt but shaking<\/p>\n

the air which was the everything.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2021<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Betsy Telep<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary School<\/p>\n

Homeschool, 4th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sea View<\/strong><\/p>\n

Seals bask in the sun,
\nAs I try to run,
\nAgainst the waves of Glory.
\nThe wind ruffles the seagull\u2019s Feathers
\nAs they glide gracefully atop the infinite blue sky.
\nThe roaring sea
\nshouts now even more gleefully
\n\u201cCome in, Come in! The water\u2019s fine. Of course, it\u2019s mine!<\/p>\n

For I am the roaring sea.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walk the sandy beaches,
\nAs the rocks tumble.
\nI walk the sandy beaches,
\nAs I throw off my first pair of breeches.
\nThe seaweed will decide
\nIt\u2019s getting quite bored
\nWith all the rope tangled and the crabs crawling
\nThis way and that.
\nYes, the seaweed will decide
\nThat it is her turn to glide
\nUpon the ancient seas.
\nI climb onto the marshy marsh,
\nand fall into its tall grasses.
\nI climb onto the marshy marsh
\nAlways happy and gay,
\nBecause the ocean is my life,
\nAnd my life is the ocean,
\nAnd here I am. Right here! As I sit upon the bay.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Caliana Dort<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley School, 7th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Where I am From<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am from distractions and trauma, depression and hate;
\nI am from where dreams and lives were crushed to pieces with no hope in sight
\nI am from a group of nobodies with no aspiration;
\nI am from a place where nobody wants to be, a place for desperate nobodies
\nwhere even the lowest of the low look at this place and call it a ghetto;
\nWhere the government pays you for disabilities and where no one works;
\nWhere little kids\u2019 toys are left out on the lawns;
\nWhere people are living together in a duplex;
\nWhere people leave their pride behind them and have to settle in this dump;
\nI am from parents who are separated who live separate lives;
\nI am from one who has anxiety to the roof but values every moment with his kids;
\nThis man is my father and he is the glue that holds our love together;
\nI am from a one who chases love and never finds it for long one
\nwho wants to be valuable to more than her children
\none who has been broken multiple times,
\nbut every time puts herself together and puts a mask on;
\nThis is my mother she tries her hardest for her children;
\nI am from sisters that act like they love but they don\u2019t show it;
\nA home where two sisters moved away from us,
\nA place where one of my sisters is using my vulnerability to throw me insults
\nabout two people that have made a long impact on my life;
\nOne sister that has her own problems that she hides with her own friends
\nas they are rude and as useless and as dumb as stones;
\nOne sister that says she cares for me but throws my life out of her way,
\nasks me to do favors for her; but I have shut down to a point<\/p>\n

Where I couldn\u2019t care less because where I\u2019m from defines me;
\nFrom a little kid I was brought up liking life;
\nBut life brought me down, a slave to its nightmares;
\nI was and those nights had got the best of me and I\u2019m broken;
\nMentally shattered and physically unhealthy; my life has the better of me.
\nTorn between life and death is getting to my head.
\nAm I better alive or dead?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kyia Karvelas<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, 10th Grade<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Tea Kettle<\/p>\n

This feeling of anxiety and sadness that I can’t control
\nNo one to turn to, to express my feelings
\nI feel like a tea kettle that after a while I might just blow
\nSteam overwhelming my life
\nMy mind and heart slowly wash away not feeling how hot I am
\nI might just blow
\nBlow all my feelings out of me and force myself to not feel but still live
\nForcing everyone out of my life and not letting anyone in
\nLike how a tea kettle blows all of the steam out and only keeps the water in
\nssssssscccccccCCCCCCCRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMM
\nTwo people that flipped my life and made me this way
\nThe domino effect hits this family of mine
\nSoon way more people become like me, tea kettles
\nEveryone wants to help and take me off the burner
\nThinking it will stop me from feeling this way
\nThat won\u2019t work
\nI’ll still steam up
\nI will still feel this way
\nYou can\u2019t touch me unless you want to burn yourself
\nYou can\u2019t help me
\nNo one understands how I\u2019ll blow after a while
\nI might just blow
\nI won’t blow now
\nI feel someone who I can let in
\nSomeone who moves me they weren\u2019t afraid of the burn
\nThey lifted me up and let me become cool again
\nMy scream slows down
\nI don’t feel as hot
\nsssscccCCRRRREEEAAAAMMMmmmm
\nI will no longer blow<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2022<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kathleen Rowe-Joyce<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary<\/p>\n

West Parish School, Grade 3<\/p>\n

Magical Books<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you want to jump into a whole new world,
\nIf you want to see a lizard with its tail curled,<\/p>\n

Grab a\u00a0book\u00a0and settle down,
\nHave some fun in a winter town!<\/p>\n

Doze off in a siesta,
\nDance in a fiesta!<\/p>\n

See fantastical creatures,
\nMeet two-headed teachers!<\/p>\n

You’re in your ordinary bedroom,
\nThen you’re on sky-high adventures–ZOOM!<\/p>\n

There’s fiction and realistic.
\nThey’re both wonderfully fantastic!<\/p>\n

Read your\u00a0books\u00a0galore
\nUntil . . .
\nThere’s not a single one more!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Emma Wilt<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Middle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley Innovation School, Grade 8<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ascending Like Icarus<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ascending like Icarus,<\/p>\n

my goals residing in the sun.<\/p>\n

Though my wings<\/p>\n

are of achievements<\/p>\n

and forged of expectations<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It seems as though<\/p>\n

the higher I fly,<\/p>\n

the more worn out I become,<\/p>\n

as do my wings.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am no longer<\/p>\n

labeled “genius.”<\/p>\n

Others look at me now<\/p>\n

as wasted potential.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I reach for the sun,<\/p>\n

my flight unstable.<\/p>\n

I start descending<\/p>\n

toward an ocean of failure.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My pride,<\/p>\n

my glory,<\/p>\n

my self esteem,<\/p>\n

melting away.<\/p>\n

Along with these wretched wings.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Olivia Hogan-Lopez<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, Grade 12<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tears of the Chrysanthemum<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sweet is the scent of the chrysanthemum, once recalled with gold<\/p>\n

Whose crimson petals weep with the reputation of blood,<\/p>\n

By living, she reminds me of my loss, but by death she is the symbol.<\/p>\n

I mourn for her who is blamed and killed for her red coat<\/p>\n

And whose yellow petals are wilted with streaming tears,<\/p>\n

by any other name, she would smell as sweet,<\/p>\n

But for her memorable face I mourn and weep.<\/p>\n

2023<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Amory Cunningham
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Elementary<\/p>\n

Plum Cove School, Grade 5<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As I Walk Home from My Bus Stop at Goose Cove<\/strong><\/p>\n

I get off the bus
\nI start walking home up Dennison St.
\nas I walk home I pass Dirt Murray\u2019s dock building spot by the water I smell sawdust and hear power drills and electric saws going to work
\nas I walk home I look across the cove to Indian Point I think of the arrow heads there that are probably 400 years old
\nJUST LIKE GLOUCESTER
\nas I walk home I go by Jeff King\u2019s workshop and see woodsmoke coming out the chimney
\nas I walk home I go through the woods and look up at the tall pine trees, not 400 years old but maybe half way there
\nas I walk home a squirrel chatters
\nas I walk home I come out of the woods and walk past my aunt and uncle\u2019s house
\nas I walk home I walk up the hill and I\u2019m at my house
\neven though I have just got home I have actually been home the whole time
\nsome things may not be 400 years old but they help make our home home<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Vivian Payne<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, Middle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley School, Grade 7<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

400 Years Ago – Important Events Over The Years<\/strong><\/p>\n

400 years ago, when the ocean wasn\u2019t tamed and the waves roamed free
\nA group of explorers settled around here, away from an empire they wanted to flee.
\nWith a winter so cold and grim, hope dwindles from every person’s heart.
\nThe natives decided to help, and they sure played their part.
\nFrom crops to hunting the pilgrims learned it all
\nand showed appreciation a following fall.
\n400 years ago when winter struck and the snow fell fast
\nThese people had found a home at last
\n300 years ago the soon-to-be-Americans grew restless
\nTired of living under Britain\u2019s reign, soon there would be an insurgence
\nAs people bonded together to rebel, sides were formed
\nOne side was loyal and stood down. While the other got armed.
\nThey were going to make a stand, impacting lives for years to come
\nA new country is what they were to become.
\n300 years ago Gloucester was about to wage war
\nFor more freedom than there was before
\n200 years ago Gloucester grew in inventions and land.
\nFrom the lights of Annisquam Harbor and Ten Pound Island,
\nTo the Boston-Gloucester stagecoach
\nWith many subjects being broached
\nThese are only some of the important events during this time
\nAll of which were some sort of sublime
\n200 years ago it was a time of innovation
\nAs more people improved their situation
\nThe past 100 years things heartbreaking struck
\nFor sailors out at sea, it was just bad luck.
\nHomes destroyed and lives lost
\nAlong this path a certain storm crossed
\nAlmost everyone here knows its name,
\nIt was The Perfect Storm that caused great bane.
\nAs years ago families would weep
\nFor those lost at sea, that\u2019s where they now sleep.
\nNow here we are in present day
\nBut here is where we won\u2019t always stay.
\nFor the future is coming, some say it\u2019s already upon us
\nBut looking back, we have come so far, there is no need to fuss.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Elijah Sarrouf<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place, High School<\/p>\n

Gloucester High School, Grade 12<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

To Wonder<\/strong><\/p>\n

Of course one must begin to wonder
\nWhat will come of all my blunders?
\nWhen calls that dreaded pale horse hunter,
\nWill my soul be torn asunder?
\nBut how to dodge this dark invention?
\nPious life without dissension?
\nWill Peter greet my grand ascension,
\nIf I pay this strict attention?
\nOr could it be that this is pretense?
\nCould this be our kind of defense?
\nIt could be that it\u2019s hard to make sense,
\nOf nonbeing\u2019s endless presence.
\nThen once again we think upon it.
\nWill we come back reincarnate?
\nShould once again we don these garments,
\nTill we find our reverence ardent?
\nOur thoughts as such are inconclusive,
\nAll these theories just obtrusive.
\nFathomless end proves quite elusive,
\nTo the dead thus seems exclusive.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

2024<\/strong> Poetry Contest Winners<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen Larabell<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, Elementary<\/p>\n

Plum Cove, Grade 4<\/p>\n

Believe<\/strong><\/p>\n

We all have experienced something
\ngood
\nand something
\nbad
\nbut in some ways, they are the
\nsame
\nlike nothing is
\nperfect
\nnothing is
\ncompletely
\nextraordinary
\nbut, then again nothing
\nis entirely covered with
\ndarkness
\nit just takes
\ntime for you to
\nrealize that:
\nbehind all the darkness there is
\nlight and
\neventually it will be even
\nbigger and
\nbrighter that you could
\nimagine
\nbrick by
\nbrick step by
\nstep
\nyou just need to
\nbelieve that:
\nanything is
\nAnything is possible
\nAnd eventually brick by brick
\nStep by step
\nIt will turn out to be
\nFine<\/p>\n

So even when things are
\nTough just
\nBelieve.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Vivian Payne<\/strong><\/p>\n

First Place Winner, MIddle School<\/p>\n

O’Maley Innovation Middle School<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Regrets<\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n

<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n

The human mind can be a silly little thing. \nFocusing on the smallest imperfection, for seemingly insignificant reasons. \nOf course they didn’t seem insignificant to us at the time. \nExisting in a world filled to the brim with all sorts of prejudice, political ruin, and negativity. \nTrying to get by while this paradise is destroyed by us \u201csuperior species.\u201dIt\u2019s no wonder we can\u2019t help but think back. \nBack to a time when the world wasn\u2019t burning. \nBack to a time when there wasn\u2019t trash everywhere. \nBack to a time when our innocent little self was unaware of the looming issues. \nEven, back to the time when we managed to ruin it all. \nRegrets.\u201cI got a low grade! I’m so dumb\u2026\u201d \n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t have said that.\u201d \n\u201cWhy isn\u2019t my body like that?\u201d \n\u201cI deserve this \u2018punishment\u2019.\u201d \n\u201cI\u2019m not strong enough.\u201d \nAll forms of regrets, all thoughts of one falling victim to harsh self-criticism. \nSome are regrets that aren\u2019t our fault. \nRegrets that occasionally stem from bullying.<\/p>\n Regrets. \nAn ever-growing collection of doubts, mournings, and pessimism. \nThe thoughts that ruin your day. \nThat overcrowd everything good. \nTurning positivity into looming negativity.<\/p>\n But by taking a step back. \nThen we see the full picture. \nBy slowing down \nWe can realize how great the world is. \nWe admire and look up to those noble folk, dedicated to helping others. \nWe can acknowledge that this world is our making, and how we can restore this ruin. \nAll by learning lessons, lessons coming in the form of \nRegrets.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n \u00a0Johnny Sheridan<\/strong><\/p>\n First Place Winner, High School<\/p>\n Waring School, Grade 11<\/p>\n Elegy for the Impermanent<\/strong><\/p>\n As a kid, \nI crushed up butterflies between my palms \nand in trying to make broken wings sing \nI killed things.<\/p>\n Even now, \nI get all caught up \ntrying to make transience less temporary \nI pick up flowers like they\u2019re permanent \nand lay them to rest in a glass grave, \nwhere the sun shines. \nI\u2019m never surprised when they die.<\/p>\n So if Emily Dickinson is right \nand \u201c\u201cHope\u201d is the thing with feathers\u201d \nI’ll return to my roots \nand open my hand \nto take a rock and a rubber band \nI\u2019ll shoot down a dove \nwith catholic conviction \nI\u2019ll find where it falls \n\u2014 And if faith doesn\u2019t fail me \nI\u2019ll pluck away purity<\/p>\n I\u2019m a harvesting hunter \nTrying to hold on \nto what can\u2019t be held, \nTo harness beauty \nfor what it has to offer me.<\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n  <\/p>\n * * * * * * *<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"   Student Poets   \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Below are the winning student poems of the Poetry Without Paper competition conducted by the Gloucester Lyceum since the spring of 2003. The contest began as a celebration of poetry month, April, and has been … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-110","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\n