Back in October, we invited "Kidspace" readers from kindergarten through high school to send in their poems for our eighth annual Young Poets contest.
We were delighted by the response!
We received nearly 1,000 poems by e-mail and regular mail from across the United States, as well as from Canada, Wales, Austria, Jamaica - even Egypt and Nigeria. Many thanks to all! Our judges had a difficult time deciding among the poems, but here we present the ones they felt were the most successful and original. We will be sending extra copies of Tuesday's paper, a Monitor calendar, and some "I'm a poet" buttons to those whose poems are included here. We'll also send free buttons to those who sent us self- addressed stamped envelopes.
Watch for our next Young Poets contest in October - and many thanks again to everyone who participated.
Guinea pigs are squeaky.
You need some grease.
Guinea pigs are fluffy,
Just like fleece.
Guinea pigs are hungry, hungry for some hay.
Guinea pigs nibble. Ouch! Hey!
Guinea pigs squeal! Squeal! Squeal!
Guinea pigs also eat apple peels.
Guinea pigs are very cute.
Guinea pigs, I LOVE YOU!
It was dark
No one asked
Did I care?
It was dark
it was magic.
Then it ended on
the magic was
And we were
just a bunch
of kids with
Middle School Gymnasium.
The giant goldfish of the sky,
Swimming easily, leisurely, between the clouds,
For there is always a tomorrow,
Diving slowly, gracefully,
Into the pools of the West,
Darkness following in its wake.
Takoma Park, Md.
Ten tiny flags saluting;
Round, stunted, like sausages;
Pink Tootsie Rolls,
Wriggling like worms,
With shiny, painted hats -
Insects on parade.
Long red tongue
Snug high on each side
My red Converse.
Tide pools set like
Mirrors into the stone.
Pebbles, smooth and round
as pearls, as raindrops, as dreams.
Mussel shells, shades of violet and indigo
The color of dusk.
Sea glass, blue and red and green
Tossed and turned in the rolling waves
Until its sharp edges are softened.
Colorful starfish cling to rocks
Shining stars in saltwater skies.
Tiny snails in moving homes
Where's the fun in a stationary house?
Tide comes in, bringing with it
The end of pools as still as mirrors.
My Dad is unbelievable!
he's so generous and always gives;
His No. 1 priority,
has always been his kids.
He's such a hard worker,
his hands are always callused;
His hair is brown (with some gray),
but overall he looks OK.
Sometimes his feet really reek,
enough to bring tears to your eyes;
He may overdo the cologne,
but usually he smells just right.
He coaches baseball for my brother,
and basketball for me;
He takes us to the lake,
where he taught us how to ski.
My dad means the world to me,
in every single way;
I wrote him this poem,
to wish him a Happy Father's Day!