By Me Poetry
  • Home
  • About
    • News Subscription
    • Terms and Conditions
    • Community
    • Contact
  • Team
  • Mission
  • POETRY COMPETITION
    • Shortlist
    • WINNERS 2018
    • Winners 2017
  • Shop
    • By Me Poetry Mug
    • By Me Poetry Pen
  • Poetica Vol 2

winners: 20 and under

1. Where I'm From
- Sally Nagle (12)

I’m from Christmas stockings, hanging on our fireplace mantel,
and curling up on the couch with my dad.

I am from glowing warmth,
drinking piping hot tea by a flickering fire, 

And ooey gooey fudge brownies, 
cut before cooled.

I am from dripping wet clothes,
plastered onto my skin after rain.

I am from try harder, you need to focus,
and you got this, take your time.

I am from spicy ginger and golden honey, 
fluffy towels and laughing too hard to breath.

I am from fierce wind, whistling by ears as I run, 
and happy pets, dogs with their tongues
lolling out. 

I’m from hot curry and sugar pie,
creamy mashed potatoes and turkey gravy.

I am from cocoons of blankets, 
and well-loved stuffed animals.

I am from brain-freezes and blackberry pie,
purple tongues and ecstatic canaries.

I am from pencils and paper, staying up writing,
smudged led, crumpled paper, and bright pink erasers. 

I’m from curlicues 
and hot chocolate, my breath steaming up
in clouds, and startlingly cold wind, biting at my
fingers.

I am from dance parties and fits of giggles,
and biking through grassy fields.

I am from tears and hurt,
slamming doors and dinner by myself.

I am from two years of chemotherapy,
a month in the hospital, and a sickness I can’t pronounce.
Who says Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia?

I am from shouts and hiding under blankets, 
with tension so thick you can cut.
I am from sobs and hugs, I don’t know,
and It’ll be okay.

I’m from black and white, right and wrong, 
love and hate.

I am from friends stomping off, and
Apologies close to begging.

I am from making up and sighing with relief, 
grinning with joy.
I am from warm smiles, rest and recovery, hope and belief.

I am from getting back up and getting back in the game.  

2. ​Chloe
- chase Houghton (17)

Some of the most fertile earth in the world has been watered with blood. 

There are seeds that only sprout when they are burnt in forest fires. 

When volcanoes ravage cities, the soil grows rich with pumice. 

When cement weathers away, flowers always manage to bloom between the cracks. 

You too will grow from this hardship. 

And I will be there to remind you how much I love you.

3. ​Hope
- Madhusraba  Mohanty (20)

I will meet you where dew drops
Wet the lips of leaves,
Where clouds caress the moon, 
Where rain drops fill the cracks 
in scarred rocks, 
Where trees hold hands
Beneath the ground,
I wil meet you in places
Where unconventional, 
Unglorified lovers entwine,
Beneath the surface, 
cloistered and dark 
Within the crevices of universe 
And in undiscovered galaxies 
Where our stories are sung 
By lost stars 


4. ​An Account of Eating Disorder Recovery
- Anna Mangum (18)

​If the amount of times I’ve said
I can’t do this anymore
Was measured in calories,
Then I wouldn’t dare eat my words.

I used to wait for the end of the suffering,
But clear-cut finales are sold with rotting meat.
The wool sweater of wait dug deep into my skin,
And I could not shake the material off my shoulders. 

All great ends are comprised of a series of endings.
The death of baby ends feed the earth--
Then one day you look down,
And you’re standing on a pile what some call accomplishment.
Sometimes I call the mound evidence of success,
And other times I call it what I waited for.
Either way, the only way I get closer to the sky
Is by standing on the ever-growing ground
Plump with the decaying bits of me. 

I once went to Colorado with my family
And took the mountains home with me in a photograph.
They were painted onto the horizon
With intersecting lines spearing clouds.
Only the brave ventured down them.
Recovery is like that. 

5. ​Directionless
-Sun yie (16)


















​CLICK HERE
TO READ WINNING POEMS F
ROM 21 AND ABOVE 
the terrifying thing about 
being lost is
you don’t know where to go
because every direction
looks the same

you keep shaking your 
broken compass
as though it’ll spit out
directions for you or
at the very least
give you hints about where you need to go

but here’s the thing:
no matter how much you play with it
it's still
broken
and you're still
lost.
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • About
    • News Subscription
    • Terms and Conditions
    • Community
    • Contact
  • Team
  • Mission
  • POETRY COMPETITION
    • Shortlist
    • WINNERS 2018
    • Winners 2017
  • Shop
    • By Me Poetry Mug
    • By Me Poetry Pen
  • Poetica Vol 2