Inside the Inaugural Teen Poetry Awards
This was the first Teen Poetry Contest hosted by Forney Arts Council. I attended the awards held at Crumbzz European Bistro and I must say it was fabulous darling. So was the crumb cake.
The judges (those present) chatted and then each had a turn at the mic. I read The Essence of a Poet – or at least I think I did. Alan Birkelbach (2005 Texas Poet Laureate) read a random piece from his satchel and Neil Melillo (English Literature AP) gave a light speech to comfort/encourage the contestants.
The awards were presented by Tiffany Wyndham (Event Planner and Emcee extraordinaire) prior to the readings.
I listened as each budding poet recited their lines of thought and somewhere between the cracks and bravado it occurred to me once more, these are the voices of our future.
Well this wraps up my week of future poets.
Yep, M-O-O-N that spells dun.
I’ve probably read close to 100 poems trying to find just the right one to end my Not Yet Notorious week of poetry.
I wanted something (I liked) to reflect the unsung working class by a humble individual who wasn’t tooting their own horn.
Don’t get me wrong, we must all toot every now and again. Oops, I just did. Excuse me.
I crammed in so many units and stanzas it all started running together like Scary Movie 3 so I took a break and looked at photographs like the one
that I stole you see here.
In case you didn’t know photography is a hobby that helps me to ‘not think’. There are a lot of attention-seeking characters living in my head. No, really! Sometimes I show them a pretty picture so they’ll shut up.
Photography is my yang to the yin of self-help.
So… I was scrolling along and low and behold it was one of those I never knew that or maybe I did and just forgot moments. That happens. Anyway there it was. Monday Morning Hike right there under my nose.
Did you know the anatomical position of the eyes prevents us from being able to see those things that are right under our nose? That’s my excuse. That’s also why I try to inform every self-confident male that he has a partially dried glob of mucus dangling from his moustache. I can’t believe they fall for it – even the clean shaven ones.
Alas to conclude (dear lord let me shut up) I’d like to share this poem by a fellow blogger and photo hobbyist. It has nothing to do with toots, noses or boogers so clear your mind.
Take a deep breath. Hummmmm….
Monday Morning Hike
When I park my car
the music stops.
I shuffle to the front door
of my brick purgatory
a little late,
watching my feet
go through the motions.
At the front steps
a pack is
put on my back–
every soldier’s companion;
my shoulders earthward;
a groan slips out
as I yank open
cumbrous glass doors.
With every step
down the stale hall,
my pack gets heavier.
I imagine the silent
figures I pass
loading me up
behind my back,
as I struggle along,
bound for my trench.
By the time I reach
my canteen is empty;
any weekend peace
it held drained away.
week has begun.
Adding to our poets of the future, laureates in waiting, aka not yet notorious composers today I present to you Typhanie Tijerina- Hill. No we are not related as far as I know but if she were to win a Pulitzer or become a future Poet Laureate that might change. 😉
Typhanie is currently a student at the University of Texas at Tyler studying Chinese, Literature and History.
Prior to UT she attended Trinity Valley Community College where she studied theater, literature and history.
Typhanie is also a wife and a mother. Anyone who has juggled such roles knows the hardships and the rewards. It takes an iron will and an artist’s heart and that is a kick- *ss combination.
I chose A Willow Among the Maple because (for me) it reflects humility and strength… Coming to terms with who we are and accepting our limitations without conceding defeat.
A Willow Among the Maple
By Typhanie Tijerina-Hill
I am a willow among the Maple
I weep while they pour out syrup so sweet
I am droopy and they are strong
I fight for survival while they grow with ease
My roots are planted deep
But are small compared to their large core
They hover over me mocking my fragile limbs
I know I will never be as big as the maple
But I don’t have to be
I liked this poem because it left me nodding my head and thinking…
Sometimes it’s like reaching for the stars on a cloudy night. But if we keep reaching, groping into the unseen one night the clouds will pass and maybe, just maybe we will find a star in our hand. Perhaps not the biggest or the brightest star – but it will be the best star because this one will have our name on it.