Congratulations to this year's winners and thank you to all who participated!
High School Division Adult Division
First Place First Place
Ope Omojola, Burke High School, 11th Grade Arthur Brown, "Jackson Square, New Orleans"
Teacher, Deborah Ward Evansville, IN
Tonight the rain sprints fast from sky to ground Mid-morning as the Tarot cards proceeded,
It flees the fog of clouds in rows and lines police removed the dead man from the square.
Of guided chill, of soft and splashy sound A bride and groom pulled up, almost unheeded
That slowly fills and floods the world outside. a juggler tossed his pins into the air.
The general rode his rearing horse above
Inside, I slither, cold between my sheets the palms, magnolias, and flower beds;
Surrounded by the noises, dark and deep a black magician caged and cloaked his dove.
My blankets twisted, knotted 'round my feet Carriage horses shook their bridled heads;
My eyes unshut, unable now to sleep the groom flung green and purple necklaces
into the crowd; the band came round the corner.
Through dark of night, with dreams meant still to come The cage collapsed before few witnesses.
I lay awake and feel the hours wear thin The dead man passed, arms crossed, without a mourner -
The serenade of darkness' gentle hum: looking kingly with his grizzled beard.
A lullaby that fails to tuck me in. Above the lamp, the dove had reaapeared.
Impatiently, my sleepless heart will thrum
A count of minutes aching for the sun
Second Place Second Place
Cara Heacock, Burke High School, 12th Grade William Baer, "Protanopia"
Teacher, Deborah Ward Evansville, IN
"What Are We?" The Tate Gallery
Our names are letters all over again He stood in the palace of color, colorblind,
In black and white, or white and black, we lie surrounded by Rossetti, Hunt, and John Millais,
Upon such threads and chords for a refrain yet in the visual cortex of his mind,
We many little wooden puppets cry their pinks were blue, their reds were black and gray.
His worthless retinal cones were still immune
But please take note of every single bar to color brightness - permanent, severe,
When into our great riddle you do delve congenital - but then she entered the room
So linearly organized we are and colored his world like Morris' Guinevere.
Sit quietly in little groups of twelve He now could see the reddest crimson red,
and peacock, ruby, pink, and apricot.
The ivory stand mighty, you can see "I don't know who or what you are," he said.
For two, seven by seven, one alone "The cure," she answered with a smile. "For what?"
The ebony shy back from ivory Then drenched with color in the Pre-Raph wing,
For one and five by seven; sharper tone she whispered in black-and-white: "Everything!"
Our number: twice infin'ty on its side
We sing when fingers upon us reside
(Answer: Piano Keys)
Third Place Third Place
Matt Suing, Burke High School, 10th Grade Alison Wilson, "Retriever"
Teacher, Lindsay Wayt Peru, NE
Shall I compare thee to a winter's night? In padded coveralls and boots, we mash
Your beauty forgotten in the snow storm, through corn stalks, guns primed in our arms
Left alone in the dark without sunlight Hooch scouts a yo yo dash
Will you leave me cold, when I need be warm? between us, eyes crisp as iron.
Shall I compare thee to autumn evening? He rustles his nose into a mound
Leaving all trees exposed with no leaves, of matted grass. He points. You nod.
For a harsh gust is just simple breathing. Feathers, jeweled blue, green, brown
Is this really you, or am I deceived? spin into sky. You aim, take the shot.
Shall I compare thee to morning in spring? Gun thunder thickens the air
With all things but predictable weather, sifts burnt powder onto my lips.
Clouds, wind, and storms; who knows what you shall bring? Hooch quivers, ears primped, eyes
With wind to break branches, or brush feathers poised for the drop. But nothing hits.
With harsh winters there, gentle summer here, From a corn stalk, Hooch rips an ear
You are not a season, No, the whole year. and lays it at my feet like a flower.
Honorable Mentions Honorable Mentions
Mikaela Campbell, Papillion La Vista High Schoo, 12th Grade Kelly Madigan Erlandson, "Maggie's Origami"
Teacher, Mary Birky Lincoln, NE
When summer days of heat and bliss are gone She says she's good at folding things in half
The leaves of orange and yellow slowly fall and I'll admit, I think it's quite a skill.
And later, later comes the crack of dawn; This is the child who always makes me laugh
No longer do the birds or sparrows call. long past the point at which I've said "Be still!"
Then coldness claims the vast and spacious land, She'll grimace, blow a kiss or pirouette
Takes over ground and sky for months to come in order to avoid the route to bed;
And death befalls, continues to expand. fall backwards off the couch until I fret
It takes the plants - the grass, the trees in sum. she'll lacerate her knee or crack her head.
Now all the world is cold and dead and bare, She's leapt from bunk beds, flipped from diving boards,
The naked branches lonely from the cold. had stitches, cat scratch fever, broken bones,
The lifeless skinny stalks look up and stare, then stayed up late to practice scales and chords
Still reaching out, companionless untold. or organize each item that she owns.
While all the world remains to pass in lay, She folds my tension, makes it happiness --
Inside they hope for yet a warmer day. Zen master of the art of goofiness.
Tue Tran, Creighton Prep, 12th Grade Fran Higgins, Going Home to Visit Mom (and Joe)
Teacher, Jeannie Brayman Omaha, NE
"A Page Almost Turned" My knuckles feel relaxed as i stare out
We thought for sure forever we would be above the steel wing that cuts the sky.
Those timid creatured marching in these halls. Pinks and yellows sprawl, a lake of clouds
We saw the lengthy path we were to see, below. Horizon steams, a cobalt stripe.
Confined by all these solid, glazed-brick walls. Terrorists be damned, I'm not afraid.
As slates so blank, naive we were so sure to threat-condition colors I am blind.
From us, this world had nothing left to hide A red alert can't make me wish I'd stayed
That we had found the be-all, end-all cure grounded. Sunlight swirls to ease my mind.
That we'd discovered all of what's inside. But the closer to my destination,
But then we lived and loved and laughed and grew the more I doubt the prudence of this trip.
By meeting others who, to us, would show What lies ahead launches palpitations.
There's so much more to life than what we knew Suddenly I'm small and unequipped
And still there's so much more we need to grow. to deal with going home to see my mother.
Althought the future calls this page to end, Flying's easier than a drunken brother.
To reach our goals and dreams, we must ascend!
Sarah Michaels, Home School, 11th Grade
Teacher, Sondra Michaels
Another night the stars burn bright and clear
And shed their crystal light upon the lake.
The moon is but a sliver, soft and sheer.
The gentle summer wind no noise will make.
So soft upon the water floats a swan,
Leaving quiet ripples in her wake.
In the grass, her chicks will sleep till dawn
All the while she watches 'cross the lake.
For hours and hours I'd walk along the shore,
Watching as the stars moved through the sky.
List'ning as the music of the spheres
Sings the world a lovely lullaby.
And as the night fades slowly into day
Wand'ring on the watery shore I stay.
Click here to read last year's sonnet winners. |
