parkmont poetry festival Poems by District of Columbia Students Grades 6-12
SPONSORED BY PARKMONT SCHOOL, MAY 9, 2009
9251.100hML5.1.9 PREFACE e are pleased to share with you in this booklet the poems Wof Washington, DC’s young writers. The Parkmont Poetry Festival was founded in 1982 to recognize the literary gifts of young poets from our diverse schools and neighborhoods and to celebrate their common interest in poetry. We received several hundreds of poems for this year’s Festival from students in grades 6 through 12 in the District’s public, private, and charter schools. Our judges have selected these 40 distinguished poems from the chorus of young voices expressing their spirits and vitality through poetry.
parkmont poetry festival, may 10, 2008 i 2009 POETRY AWARD WINNERS Davon Ford Get Your Elbow Off the Table...... 1 Julia Hiemstra Food ...... 2 Lamara Brooks My Name...... 3 Jennifer Omekam The Inside ...... 4 Devon Hudson Photo...... 5 Noelle Smith Running to Freedom...... 6 Cheryl Arnold Hurry! ...... 8 Khadijah Rashad The Day That You Are Going to Have...... 9 Mia Jones Colors ...... 10 Bernice Caldwell I Be ...... 12 Kameren Morgan Free in Ruined Eternities (FIRE) ...... 13 DarVel Suggs My Winter Experience...... 14 Aaron Landy Murderers’ Row ...... 15 Kweku Sumbry Darkness ...... 16 Ava Reuss Ladybug ...... 17 Shawntay Kent Poetic Autobiography ...... 18 Melissa Q. Wood Today...... 19 Kirk Murphy From One to Another ...... 20 Christian Burke Upside Down ...... 21 Khalil Jones Random ...... 22 Nichell Kee Happy New Year...... 23 Antonia Madian Lost...... 24 Dasha Bell Flower Poem About Pink...... 25 Sequan Wilson Unforgettable ...... 26 Monae Smith I am...... 27 Colin Clarke Confusion Within...... 28 Damon Kee I Am Not For School ...... 30 Gabriela Farina Swimming in the Rain ...... 31 Jonathan Korns The Green House...... 32 Lesa Lee Lemon Yellow Passion Flower ...... 34 Renita Williams The Time Is Right to Make...... 35 Duncan Taylor Merry-Go-Round ...... 36 Kiana Murphy Sleeveless Imagination ...... 37 Jeremiah Quarles The Rubberband on my Wrist...... 39 Olivia Patch Autumn...... 40 Marcus Barnes His son...... 41 David Heath Revelation...... 42 Sebastian Swain To Reciprocate Love ...... 43 Steven Reed The True Definition of a Man...... 46 Cole Feinberg Anatomy and Music...... 47
parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 iii GET YOUR ELBOW OFF THE TABLE I was raised by get your elbow off the table, don’t never say you’re not able, get dat money real faithful type of family. Always on my back, never let me slack, they always stay packed Do anything for me, love me to the max type family. Get your butt in this house for I tear you up. Always drinking out the juice cup type family. Tore up off the goose put a lil cranberry into it give it a boost, come over here and give Grandma a smooch type family. Hand me the remote right here beside me, move out of the way of the TV I can’t see type family. Come here boy, then smack me in my head, I know you ain’t wet your bed, even though I did, I’d tell her it’s water instead type family. You better do your homework beat with the belt had me crying like water type family.
Davon Ford, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School
parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 1 FOOD MY NAME A piece of limp, faded, yellow-colored pasta, like an old In the morning, my name feels deadly person’s hair. In the afternoon, my name feels real Outside, my name feels loud An oval-shaped, bright orange, delicious mango, like a nerf At the end of school, my name feels happy football. The next day, my name feels good Going to school, my name feels magic. A chunk of strong bittersweet-smelling, whitish-brown garlic, like a brand-new book waiting to be read, page to page. When my friends call me, A sheet of fresh, creme-colored fillo dough, like a sheet of when I write my name, paper, blank and unused. it feels secret. My name feels funny A triangular piece of dough-covered cherry pie, like a balloon when I make my friends laugh. waiting to be popped. My name feels like music When people say it. Julia Hiemstra, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School Lamara Brooks, Grade 6 Charles Hart Middle School
2 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 3 THE INSIDE PHOTO Who are you looking at? Are you staring at me? Don’t you Picture you in the background have somewhere else to be? Do not stare too long or you will And me in the front see what is really inside of me. All the pain regret and sorrow Eyes older than a wooden table that is bottled up inside. All my feelings are ready to burst Face looks like a tinted mask out. If I do not say something soon someone’s feelings will be hurt. I have feelings but still I do not pout. I might scream and shout but that only means you better get out. Wham! Devon Hudson, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School Watch out because here I come with my independent self the only thing wrong is that you are already there.
Jennifer Omekam, Grade 6 Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science
4 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 5 RUNNING TO FREEDOM Running left and Through the night. No say in what we want. Sounds of men chattering, running of feet, Running right and hounds howling. As if we have no voice to speak. So much darkness as if it was swallowing the night. Running left and right. A young mother wanting a way out. Working in the house, helping with the kids, The only light coming from stars and lamps of racist men. cooking and cleaning. Trying to make it North as quickly as possible. The young mother views the white children Hoping for a new life filled with upcoming changes. receiving their education. Will it be possible or will we just be rallied Wishing that her daughter could do the same. like animals beaten and forced to work? Running left and Running right. Working in the house or in the field, still not able to learn or read. Every time the mother looks into the child’s eyes, Beaten all alike, whether dark or light. she can see the pain and confusion in the child’s soul. Running left and running right. The mother makes a decision to head North, but only makes it halfway from hell. Raped, abused, or neglected. Grabbed by a rope, bags thrown over the child and the The lost touch of a family bond. mother’s body People being sold as if livestock. as if trying to round up cattle. The screams of stomachs begging for food Instead of even going back home, she and her daughter or hearts singing for freedom. are carried to an unfamiliar town. RUNNING Wondering when the day will come when we all rise.
They try to put fear in us so we can’t run away Noelle Smith, Grade 8 or brainwash us as if there is no other way. Parkmont School Running left and running right. Only to be stopped by a group of white men who dragged us back to their destination.
6 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 7 HURRY! THE DAY THAT YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE Hurry! Forget the pool Wake up, Forget the wind Get dressed, And don’t forget Hurry you’ll be late. To pay your rent Hurrying is something It’s a holiday, have I absolutely hate. Some joy, forget Find your hat, About the squeak Brush the cat, Just picture food Don’t drag your feet Inside your head You’ve got to hurry. Don’t forget to Hurry Scurry Worry Flurry. toss the salad Hurrying is something Don’t forget about I absolutely hate. Pie crust, just Picture the moon Cheryl Arnold, Grade 6 light and enjoy Horace Mann Elementary School the bread and picture the plate you’re Going to have
Khadijah Rashad, Grade 6 Charles Hart Middle School
8 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 9 COLORS I’m going Colors Colors Colors that flow Where would I be without Colors Colors Don’t you know how they grow? Mothers fathers sisters brothers Through the vines in between All four of my favorite The lines Colors Flowing like water, sea’s Oceans Mia Jones, Grade 8 Meridian Public Charter School Flowers that grow for Hours Some are sweet some Smell sour Their smell elevates through The wind Again and Again Colors Brighten up your day Colors Free to come Free to stay I say hey hey How They look BEAUTIFUL How they brighten up the pathway So I can See the way The way
10 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 11 I BE FREE IN RUINED ETERNITIES (FIRE) I be of DC Kid with the tears like waterfalls, I be a block from Eastover free on an Autumn’s day. I be having glitter in my hair Free to do whatever he wants, I be goofy all the time free to roam and play. I be happy all the time He hides his anger, I be cute a lot under that happy face. I be having nothing to do But still feels pain, playing with my puppy I be from that terrible day. eating popcorn on the couch I be The fire burns. Wingate all the time. I be As a baby, school I be all the fun times he never saw his parents. I be loving my family I be He still remembers to this day, I be happy because the world makes every now and then he gives a frown. me and I be He tries to forget, but it keeps coming back. Bernice Caldwell, Grade 7 He calms himself, by looking at the clouds. Charles Hart Middle School The flame still burns, as white as the hottest star. Maybe one day, he will join his parents in that heavenly star.
Kameren Morgan, Grade 6 Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science
12 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 13 MY WINTER EXPERIENCE MURDERERS’ ROW The days are being broken To some, this might sound Each one getting shorter Like a death sentence I hesitate to go outside To be served at San Quentin. Below 30 degrees it is But to die-hard baseball fans, I look on the faces of children This has a totally different meaning. Outside freezing Babe and Lou headed Their faces are ivory This formidable gang, Just like the snow And they served their sentence Coming inside to taste In the Big House The bittersweet tea Called Yankee Stadium. The warmth sends comfort All through your bones The year was 1927. And the victim of these DarVel Suggs, Grade 8 Murderers was that poor, round Charles Hart Middle School Fellow with red stitching On his white, leather exterior: The orb called “Fastball”. Those murderers kept knocking “Mr. Fastball” right out of That “House that Ruth Built”. They were merciless.
Aaron Landy, Grade 8 Parkmont School
14 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 15 DARKNESS LADYBUG A piercing bullet of death on my doorstep, A ladybug Creeping like a lonely worm, Dressed in her black and red dress stalking me looking me dead in the eye Dances under the afternoon sun Running from a silent fear, and approaching my doorstep Sweeping her dress to and fro Dreaming of a lifeless thought as my heart starts running, Side to side running like the wind Up and down Until I stop at a seeming less door Then the sun sets and it says check your heart She stops dancing Check my heart I repeat what kind of madness is this Holds her dress still As I look down a dull hole piercing through my heart And waits for another bright afternoon Silence creeps into my soul and crushes my life As I appear back onto my doorstep a blackout occurs Ava Reuss, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School No light as the piercing bullet attacks my shoulder Left with no other thought than waiting for the morrow.
Kweku Sumbry, Grade 6 Howard University Middle School of Mathematics and Science
16 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 17 POETIC AUTOBIOGRAPHY TODAY And even though I remember Birds twittered, sharing bits of gossip. the slurred, soothing words Do I want to join? of my mother while No, let them chitchat. she bathed me, Dark clouds part just a crack for the true blue to show. I failed to Do I hope it will be a non-cloudy day? understand the fact No. It can’t. that she had an School looms up in front of me. addiction to a thing Am I ready for school? she called grey goose, Yes. the thing that made her feel good Melissa Q. Wood, Grade 6 Horace Mann Elementary School when no one else was there to put the broken pieces together, and when her bottle was emptied of her sinful concoction I was there to accept her for her, and give her the love she had sought from the lover that only corrupted her, but your biographers never understand.
Shawntay Kent, Grade 8 Charles Hart Middle School
18 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 19 FROM ONE TO ANOTHER UPSIDE DOWN My father’s eyes would define mine As he stood there upside down in his thoughts like a silent voice yelling in your He had a rather big frown that could scare off a town. indescribable thoughts. He was a child who rarely smiled to the world or one another. He would stay there for a while My prayers are as similar as my As everyone stood a mile away from the boy who wouldn’t mom’s gift to god. smile. Like the son of an unloving dad, praying It was almost like beauty and the beast, for his dad to return. but where was the beauty? He stood there not even moving a hair on his long cold arms. My thankfulness is what my dad and All anyone could do was just sit there and stare mom combine. Like a fox hunting down a hare. Like the sourness a lemon brings It was like one big wall in front of them all but can return with sweetness and That wouldn’t let anyone in at all. lusciousness of lemonade. But then there it came bashing through the wall Making that wall look very small -- Kirk Murphy, Grade 8 An ice cream truck. Charles Hart Middle School As the boy pulled out a buck He carefully snuck One big smile That would definitely last a while.
Christian Burke, Grade 7 Parkmont School
20 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 21 RANDOM HAPPY NEW YEAR Three red robins, one blue jay I crawl into the new year flying down the street Expecting a change As I see them fly But not really seeing a difference I see the trees, I see deer and wolves I can already see the clouds rolling in I walk down the road and Struggle hits me like lightning I see the church with a cross on top Burning my shyness and bringing with it and when I look up a rain of agony I see the lions playing in the sky, the rectangle-shaped casket Last year was just as bad Of all my dead poems Maybe a bit calmer, but still the usual Thunderstorm of pain Khalil Jones, Grade 6 Flashes of confusion Charles Hart Middle School Thoughts, questions come storming in How can a heart beat if it’s broken?
That year I thought I went flying into it This year I peeked in on the cold months And went crashing down
The year just started Already I’m trapped by guilt Burning a hole in my mind How long shall I be trapped? I’ll wait until it passes, just like every year
Nichell Kee, Grade 10 Ballou Senior High School
22 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 23 LOST FLOWER POEM ABOUT PINK in dusty corners Pink is called the flower I have nice conversations But the flower is not pink about brown foxes The pink is on me who leave their glossy fur on the dining room table On my dress and lead us from our houses My wedding dress to the scarecrows With the lace falling down we are supposed to destroy Down on my back Down to the floor but I still like their button eyes But when you look and their tanned hats In my hair they can sit and talk There if you wait for them to climb down off their poles It is the flower called pink but it’s been a while since The pink is on me I’ve visited the forest in the kitchen On my wedding dress or the meadow in the bedroom Right there and the burglar ghosts that wander over the floors Never wear that dress don’t hum at daybreak anymore only in the pitch dark Dasha Bell, Grade 9 Parkmont School when it could just be the sounds of the night falling asleep
Antonia Madian, Grade 11 Maret School
24 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 25 UNFORGETTABLE I AM The sky becomes obscene, I am capable Fading to a sudden green, of accomplishing Hearts get heavy, along with their breath, all my goals, Bodies shiver, but they keep it to themselves, Visible air strives for attention, I am And chills deserve an honorable mention, killing souls Feet sing an unforgettable but all-the-same tune, with blank “Don’t forget to buy boots for me soon,” words, Thin jackets fade, replaced by something insulated Or is it coats that are fabricated? tarnishing Something I really haven’t debated promiscuous dreams. Unlikely tunes start to sound Like “Silent Night” and “Santa’s Coming to Town” My gaze is The endings of our summers of discontent slowly observing This winter, the snow shows new moments well spent. an endless soul tearing away Sequan Wilson, Grade 10 from an unkempt Ballou Senior High School body.
I believe in conquering homelands, tranquility overflowing, souls and spiral windows.
Monae Smith, Grade 10 Hospitality Public Charter School
26 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 27 CONFUSION WITHIN Pain hangs limp in the air, waving white You’d have thought I’d seen it coming, linen square upon pole, so strong, so firm. What’d happened and all... Slightly aroused, I wake to know that it I’d never seen it coming, not from a mile off. is different from most, but similar in form. My thoughts cloudy and nebulous, so thick, so firm, slightly aroused, greatly embarrassed, I try to pass it off ... Chuckles he, knowing my surprise. But it doesn’t work. I betray naivete, as I fly on a silver sail. Nay, not happy, not I! He looks me sternly in the eye, sharp and focused, I wish ‘twould be apropos to love sans label, like a picture of a stream. but we seem to lose ourselves without... He knows what I’m thinking, but if he cares he doesn’t tell. I I don’t think I was ever found. Knew it would come out into the open, laid bare, stripped raw. Sailing upon that sea, I was afrraid, FEAR, the very parasite keeping me from One of confusion and mass disarray, bloom... I know as I look into his pools of He held the knife, proverbially, verdant sight, sharp and ragged against my heart, He could be just what Don’t break it, please. I need.
It’s comical, the look in his eyes, Colin Clarke, Grade 10 Oh, his eyes, green with a hint of hazel, Parkmont School I find myself absorbed in them, unaware of lurking danger, I know I will find more trouble just waiting to be unleashed, the Pandora’s box that is my soul...
Keeping a secret that costs by day, I try to tell, but I tell the wrong people. The shades of deceit only now clear themselves from my midst...
28 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 29 I AM NOT FOR SCHOOL SWIMMING IN THE RAIN Long lessons trying to stay There are no sounds awake day dreams Time does not exist forever etched in my head As I slowly glide through the clear water thinking of the fun I had Approaching the surface the day before Time begins again party it was great And with a deep breath but my shadow looks so cool The sounds of life outside return a creation of the sun The pouring rain smells like a cold morning my half-baked brain As it hits the water and sounds like steam can’t process fast enough Until I go under once more I’m not for school And time and sound disappear the bell has wings when it rings Into the world outside I guess I’m done. Where I left them
Damon Kee, Grade 11 Gabriela Farina, Grade 12 Ballou Senior High School The Lab School of Washington
30 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 31 THE GREEN HOUSE through each other. On the corner, Their fantasies, the green house their temptations. Their desires, looks down their secrets. from its perch, at the pond The lamp dims the pine trees as a boy discovers the big boulder how naughty he can be; and the fork leaving his Christian in the road values on the floor that the house next to tight boxer briefs is stuck between. and brown leather shoes.
At night the house But from the street, shines with each flicker the house sits up on a hill, of the street tucked behind the pine trees lamp as it buzzes and the pond. and hisses The boys make it seem so easy, and tells the world so instinctive. the days are getting The smell of sin, full pleasure, shorter. begs for winter to hide in the closet of spring. And at the house the only light Jonathan Korns, Grade 10 Georgetown Day School glows from the lantern in the room above the garage where young men go to explore the world
32 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 33 LEMON YELLOW PASSION FLOWER THE TIME IS RIGHT TO MAKE Lovely beyond light The world is a better place for kids also adults to live better Yellow passionflower love all the colorblind people could see bright as day Measures its own truth The time is right to Lesa Lee, Grade 10 care for people who are disabled Parkmont School and not laugh. Toss up the hating and become happy.
The moon speaks louder than the sun my heart beats more than it’s supposed to when I see someone in stress. I always try to give an extra hand.
The time is right to warm the frostbitten fingers from cold snow. I plant my seeds into the clouds above to make me a better person.
Renita Williams, Grade 11 Ballou Senior High School
34 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 35 MERRY-GO-ROUND SLEEVELESS IMAGINATION As I watch the Merry-Go-Round Falling of the leaves I see a child in blue. Frostbite of words The horse he rides bobs up and down, Defrosting of an empty mind His mother bobbing too. And in the air, a cheery sound, Bitter blackened Accompanies the view. Footprints The joy he finds in leaving ground Engraved beneath the soggy foundation Insults the morning dew. Heartburn erupting As I ride the Merry-Go-Round Internal hail I watch the swans’ quick race. Mixture of emotion The aged canal appears to drown And cannot keep their pace. Temperature changes I lose them while I spin around, Adjusting to the hypothermia And long to see their grace, Of a hand losing feeling But very soon they will be found For circles move in place. Spite inside an abandoned house The hinges behind a frozen door As night shuts down the carousel Lost in thought, broken emptiness The world returns to me. There is no ringing of the bell, Boneless structure And no more jubilee. Defines the atmosphere It is my time to go as well. Of a chill sneaking into the anger But leaving Annecy, I hear my footsteps on the ground; Decay, fire beyond unreasonable Sweet earthly rhapsody. Caressing the invisible flakes No longer in original form Duncan Taylor, Grade 11 St. Alban’s School
36 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 37 Pale THE RUBBERBAND ON MY WRIST (BATTLE THE NINJAS) Chapped lips I’m walking Fingertips numb Out of my house Through the dead-end street of my city Shivering among the sudden transactions It’s cold outside Wind watering the naked eye But my hands and feet are burning Warmth under the extra clothing I walked past the parking lot Winter freezes a summer mind Where I got into my first fight Collapsing warm thoughts, destroying crimson love Past the ball court where I perfected my 3-pointer Kiana Murphy, Grade 10 Scraped my knee when I finally touched the rim Friendship Public Charter School Spud Webb has nothing on me.
Churches, fast food, and high gas prices My neighborhood has become separated by street signs I walk past the criminals and lowlifes And wonder why they do what they do And why I’m not doing the same
My words have become my weapons To battle the ninjas of my city This rubberband on my wrist Helps me to never forget where I come from Damn, ran out of film Whoo, I’m tired of walking I’m going home.
Jeremiah Quarles, Grade 12 Parkmont School
38 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 39 AUTUMN HIS SON Leaves are changing Well, I wish that my father was living right now Brown and green leaves because I really miss him very much Change but when he had passed away I was mad because To red, orange and yellow he was the only person that really cared about me The air because he always had love for me and I Gets colder had love for him Leaves fall And he really looked out after me so I would not get lost and S I love him W because of the things that he did for me I and he once said that if he dies or leaves my side F he would pass down his favorite things in the world And he gave me a shirt T and he called it the shirt of forgiveness and he also gave me a ring that he loved L and always wore Y and he called it the ring of love and happiness and he gave those two items to me to keep if he passed To the crisp but he also said that the shirt and the ring And cracked ground represent you and me Waking up is hard and my father said that he would hate to lose me The sky is because I was his one and also only caring, loving son. Gray and motionless On the earth Marcus Barnes, Grade 11 Ballou Senior High School Even at night the cold is upon us and the leaves are changing
Olivia Patch, Grade 9 The Lab School of Washington
40 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 41 REVELATION TO RECIPROCATE LOVE Impulse: I sit with the two. Trace the clouds To all but a few, As they roll across It’s perfectly fair. The descending, imposing sky. A natural pair. A boy and a girl. Impulse: Thoughts start to unfurl. Declare the dead trees a symbolic accent They start to kiss. to the world, but walk into them. To them, it’s bliss, a gem. To me, you see, Rhythm: It’s silent pain. Stand by the Outside, Cobalt sea as it In the rain, Extends and retreats. For my pride, Falls the shame of God. Impulse: Dive into temptation The boy -- And ignore the consequences He’s cute enough to make hearts race Because you know you want to... And sweet enough To make one weak, David Heath, Grade 10 With gentle face, Parkmont School With sanguine cheek, With hair like sweetly dirt-smudged gold. His eyes, they hold a soft, sapphiric blue. He’s British, too, And tall, And ... neither help at all.
42 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 43 We talked of Seneca and Stoicism, He’d not introduce me, Freud and Jung’s disturbed Electra, Despite my blissful glee, evil’s nature and the Borgias over wine; To his sweetheart, to a friend. Any life without the two of us together -- His reputation mornings by each other’s side He’d defend When push comes to shove, Against my inclination Whenever one cried, To the end. To reciprocate love -- would just be hopelessly malign. His head is tucked beneath her chin. I’d learn how to cook him meals, They’re babes without a bit of sin. Stand by him as much as I could Her hands are woven in his hair. With all the things for which he feels. The sight is just too much to bear. We would live the life In perfect bliss, they’re both asleep. it now occurred to me we should. They don’t know the luck they keep.
He mutters, “What a fag,” But every time their kiss I hear, Quite devoid of any rage And crane my neck to shed a tear, As my hopes begin to sag -- Looking up with sense of fate, Lovely skin succumbed to age. To God I’ll say, A girly thing had passed the screen -- “But it’s okay. He had no qualm with it before, You’re being bad. He hadn’t changed since then, I know -- No, I’m not mad. He didn’t try to be so mean... It’s fine....I ’ll wait.” He was like a puppy dog, Too sweet to know the pain -- Sebastian Swain, Grade 11 The Lab School of Washington Beneath the pleasant mood I feign -- Of his own bite, His playful fight, In a field of happy fog.
44 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 45 THE TRUE DEFINITION OF A MAN ANATOMY AND MUSIC I was told the true definition of It started with frogs a man was never cry, work till Brown, slippery skin, cool and you die, got to provide, Compliant, limbs pinned to the always be the rock for my family Dissection tray, splayed and and protect them by all means; Respectfully crucified. Inside, a poem gives me the chance to Miracles of color -- express what I want, I see Blue veins and pink organs, a heart about what a man’s to be, That beat its last few but I know a true man should Notes not long ago, be able to express his feelings mentally, Decrescendo and rallentando, and I don’t see anything wrong For science. An etude, yes, with men showing feelings physically. But only a prelude A poem helps me get over break-ups and sorrow, To the fetal pig, a galaxy also brings me hope when I of new parts and possibilities, dread tomorrow. An unexplored world Through which I moved Steven Reed, Grade 11 Adagio, appassionato Ballou Senior High School As I found his lungs and liver, Spleen, pancreas and gallbladder, Delicato, I uncovered the layers And mapped his parts Discovering all his secrets, A medley of similarities
To me. Am I nothing More. I, too, detest prodding.
46 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 47 Graduating to a cat brain ACKNOWLEDGMENTS there was less color, more texture The Parkmont Poetry Festival extends sincere thanks to our Each part responsible for 2008 judges: So much: this, the love of meat Jennifer Pierson (Finalist Judge) has been teaching poetry at And this, the fear of dogs and American University since 1996, and is the Poet-in-Residence Vacuum cleaners and children at IONA Services. For years she was a Human Rights Advocate for persons with disabilities in Virginia. Her collection, With clothes pins. Taibhse: A Gaelic Apparition, won the first Editors’ Prize in A symphony of messages 2000 from NIMROD INTERNATIONAL. Other awards include Preprogrammed, a refrain those from Half Tones To Jubliee and Southern Review. Her Familiar before experience. poems, reviews and stories are in numerous journals and anthologies (including The Party Train) and on Doonesbury’s website, “The Sandbox.” Two other book-length works are It’s not enough Sin Eaters, which explores the notion of the scapegoat in Of an explanation. lynchings and the community at Salem during the witch The pieces that compose trials, and Dispatches from the (war) Hospital, on her work The whole, the measures with wounded soldiers from Iraq and Afghanistan. That become a movement Laurie Stroblas has taught creative writing to young people Adding up to a sonata or at several DC schools, Smithsonian museums and The Writers’ Center. She has been awarded a Mayor’s Arts Award A life, dissected and charted and the Larry Neal Writers Award for Poetry, as well as several And labeled, and put together arts education and writing grants from the DC Commission It can eventually on the Arts and Humanities. A former fellow in arts education Walk and talk and even at the National Endowment for the Arts, Laurie founded and Think, and better yet directed the District Lines Poetry Project that brought poems by local young and adult writers to Metro Muse posters on Sing. And I sing. Metrobuses, Metro trains, train platforms and bus shelters (from 1994 to 2002). You can find some of her recent poems Cole Feinberg, Grade 12 National Cathedral School in the fall/winter 2008 issue of Poet Lore and the anthology Stories of Illness and Healing. Reuben Jackson has worked as an archivist with the Smithsonian Institution’s Duke Ellington Collection. His poems have been published in 21 anthologies, journals
48 parkmont poetry festival, may 9, 2009 such as Chelsea, Gargoyle, Callaloo and The Indiana Review, and PARKMONT SCHOOL a volume of verse entitled fingering the keys, which won the Parkmont is a small private school serving middle school 1992 Columbia Book Award. Reuben has also written music students in grades 6-8 and upper school students in grades reviews for The Washington Post, Washington City Paper, Jazz Times 9-12. An educational community that fosters individual and Jazziz magazines, and for National Public Radio’s “All growth and enthusiasm for learning, Parkmont believes Things Considered.” Reuben’s “haiku” was set to music by the that there is nothing more basic to the development of a late saxophonist Steve Lacy. He is a poetry instructor at The person than a positive sense of self-esteem. This respect Writer’s Center in Bethesda, Maryland. for the creative energies and contributions of young people We are deeply grateful to the following donors for their is the driving force behind the Poetry Festival and many support of the 2008 Parkmont Poetry Festival: other school activities. Parkmont’s Internship program puts The Jamieson Trust; and Mrs. Lois Nistico. students in offices, shops and organizations around the city An additional debt of thanks goes to Ron McClain, Head to learn practical work skills. At school, students participate of Parkmont School and Founder of the Parkmont Poetry in all-school meetings that focus on ethical and practical Festival; Kim Schraf, Coordinator of the Parkmont Poetry problems confronting their community and engage in a Festival; Judy Lentz, tireless supporter and 25-year Festival vibrant, hands-on curriculum. Parkmont helps students Coordinator; and Sharan Strange, Festival Master of to discover their talents and values. The Poetry Festival Ceremonies. Sharan is the author of Ash, a collection encourages students to give voice to their dreams of poems. and concerns. Finally, we wish to thank our 2008 design team: If you would like to show your support for the Parkmont Booklet layout and printing by Mackie Marquez-Lopez at Poetry Festival by making a tax-deductible contribution in SEIU; poster design by Auras Design; and tee-shirt design by any amount, please send a check payable to Parkmont School Rachel Schmidt. Poetry Festival to this address: PARKMONT SCHOOL 4842 16th Street, NW • Washington, DC 20011 202.726.0740
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parkmont poetry festival Poems by District of Columbia Students Grades 6-12
SPONSORED BY PARKMONT SCHOOL, MAY 9, 2009
9251.100hML5.1.9