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Carpet stapled onto a ladder, stapled
onto a roof, like elongated shingles,

A rainbow of windows casting a shadow,
like a painting,
like a painting,like stained glass in weathering
windowpanes, on top of the invisible house,
held up by a shipmast, a cement block,
a bedpost and a slithery wooden foot,
held up by a painted fist

on top of a wooden sign: “Those who do not
remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Leyla, twelfth grade, Badgerdog Creative Writing Summer Camp

To see a photo of Paradise Now! (The Salvage) by Matthew Day Jackson from the Blanton Museum of Art, which inspired this poem, click here.

Dark to Light

lost in the suffocating darkness
lost in thought

you see black
you see white
you see beautiful designs
unfold

black as dark as coal
silver and gold
white as bright as the sun

black

large black
large black sky
large black painting

at night

the sky is dark
children get scared
because all they
see is black

at night when we
look up we
see nothing
then
we see stars

white sparkling
wonders light
the soulless sky

we see the stars
we see hope

hope fills the sky
when we look
close
when we look
deep
we see pictures
unfold

they line up to
form
pictures
in the night sky
created by twinkling
wonders

under the bright
night sky we
see the choking
darkness.

Shivani, ninth grade, Badgerdog Creative Writing Summer Camp

Congratulations to Sahar! In this poem, she’s brought to life both the bustle of the city and the dynamism of Weber’s 1915 canvas. What a beautiful marriage of art and poetry!

New York at Night

A never-ending maze.
Streetlights.
Skyline.
Upside, downside, diagonal, horizontal—
You can see the same image.
You can see the streets, and the buildings,
But hidden in the chaos is calm.
Each skyscraper, each simple park
It is three-dimensional yet it appears two-dimensional.
Alleys, stairwells, passageways, paint crackling,
Then the light bright of NYC.
Beige.
____Green.
________Blue.
____________Gray.
________________Red.
____________________Yellow.
The sounds echo off every corner,
Every detail neatly integrated into modern chaos.
Every angle tells a different story.
Shining stars glisten.
All the little shops and stalls—
The randomness of it all.
The true spirit of New York at night
Is focused yet frenzy.

Sahar, eighth grade, Badgerdog Creative Writing Summer Camp

Life

Never let life take hold.
Make everything into a piece of art without lines.
Don’t see what people want you to see, but what you want to.
Be grateful for what you have.
Don’t live life in poverty without something to fall back on.
Listen to your heart and live a peaceful life within yourself.
Make a happy place with trees and things that keep peace.
Don’t be overpowered with hatred.
Don’t cry over things that bring no use, that bring no pain but sorrow.
Let life make a wonderful change in nature and things that surround you.
Don’t live in fear.
Try to find things you’ve never imagined.
Be at peace with the world, even if it hurts.
Don’t play games with Destiny.
Don’t think about the things you do when you fall in love,
Just the things you say when you care.

Daisy, seventh grade, Ojeda Middle School

Life

Life should be enjoyed. You should live it to its fullest and take risks. When life knocks you down, just keep trying.

In life, you and everyone around you will encounter obstacles. If you keep trying, you will overcome them.

Your life should be fluid and graceful. It should flow like a river. It has currents and even whirlpools. Drama ends up as a waterfall. Excitement is a whirlpool of happiness.

You should enjoy life. It does not last as long as you think. You can overcome an obstacle. There is always a way. Don’t give up on life, ever.

Dominic, seventh grade, Ojeda Middle School

Today, we are pleased to announce the contest winner—Siearra at Del Valle Middle School, whose poem “Tiger Mama,” hits on one mother’s toughness, verve, bite, and beauty. Siearra’s poem will be distributed in restaurants across the city, so if you’re taking mom to brunch on Sunday, you may find this beautiful poem—an ode to mothers everywhere—tucked inside your check.

Tiger Mama

She’s like a grasshopper,
hopping in the streets of Hynoon,
eating the guts of insects,
saying, “Clean your room, Siearra!”
She’s like Air Jordans—fresh and tight.
She’s tough as a tiger biker,
always yelling, “Yield!” in the strangest places, like the grocery store.
She’s the Himalayas—courageous and extraordinary, the mountain of wisdom.
She’s always asking me, “How much do you love me, McShorty?”
She loves the taste of dark chocolate.
She’s like poison ivy—contagious in so many ways.

Siearra, seventh grade, Del Valle Middle School

Original artwork by Sarah Meraz.

Today we present one of our finalists, a poem from Luna at Del Valle Middle School. We were stunned by its depiction of a mother who seems to both obey the rules but defy expectations; she seems to even teeter on invincibility. Congratulations, Luna!

Converse Mum

She’s like a fly,
Always running up and down Dearbonne Drive,
Eating the leftover raw meat.
You better love her.
She loves wearing Converse.
She’s cool, like hot rocks.
She always stops at stop signs.
She’s pretty as a lovely river falling over smooth pebbles.
The way she talks makes me think she was born in the Country of Sarcasm.
Do you love her yet?
She loves the ripe, watery taste of watermelon.
She is a redwood tree.

Luna, seventh grade, Del Valle Middle School

What I Carry

The things I carry are important
but replaceable. So there is no need
to carry anything at all,
but the need to feel cluttered is overriding.
I carry a chongo,
my ring, ID, a rubber foot, a mirror, and some perfume.
I carry the chongo in case the feeling of hair
on my neck on a hot day becomes too annoying.
I carry a ring on my middle finger.
I’ve carried it so long that when I take it off
you can see the white outline left behind.
I carry a school ID because
it’s a sin to leave it at home on your bed.
I carry a rubber foot I bought
from a package that cost me 60 cents at Wal-Mart,
and I carry it because I forget to remove it from my things.
I carry a mirror in case of a runaway eyelash,
but otherwise its useless. Lastly, I carry
perfume because you must always smell inviting.
Notice that a cell phone isn’t on my list
even though I’m a teenager.

Mariah, eleventh grade, Del Valle High School

Time Can’t Tell

I’d step on the wooden fence to look at the same perspective I saw every day. I’d look down and see the kids playing in the dirt. Funny to say, I never got a splinter.

I’d get bored standing there. I’d go and leave my socks on and wet my toes in the puddle after it rained and just sit there, waiting until my mom would call me in to eat with the family.

I’d go where the bikes were sitting. I’d feel the plastic—blue and textured—and I’d look at the glass door and see the smudges and smears of fingerprints. I’d feel relaxed, like time couldn’t stop me from staying or leaving the balcony. I could hear the lawnmowers start up, and I could smell the freshly cut grass. I’d see the red ball we used to play handball and remember its bouncy sound.

Elsie, Del Valle Middle School

Photo courtesy of Lanie Anderson.

Princess

Every girl’s dream is to be a princess,
A princess of a distant country,
Wishing for her prince to come rescue her.

It’s the same in high school.
Everyone wants to be the most popular,
Wants the handsome quarterback boyfriend.

But the truth is:
Being popular is not that important.
(Don’t look at me like I’m stupid!)

Not all guys are quarterbacks,
And you really are the popular princess
In the country of your friends.

KayCee, ninth grade, Del Valle High School

My dog days and scraped knees
My mud pies and dirty feet
My broken legs or future fears
She sat me down with open ears

Jared, eleventh grade, Del Valle High School