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And the St. Joseph's Convent School Published Poets Are...



We are so excited to announce the winners of our first ever school publication collaboration with St. Joseph's Convent School in Bathinda, which is a city in Punjab, India.


To say we were impressed with the depth and content sent to us does not even begin to cover our sentiment. We were absolutely astounded at the way our youth were able to convey and express the things that affected them in their day-to-day lives. It gave us so much hope about the type of poetry we will see years from now!


Contest Details:


Students aged 12-17 were given the opportunity to experience firsthand what the publication process is like for poets. They were given this directive, "We are looking for words that move us, transport us, and connect with us."


From there, they were instructed to submit their poem via email with specific instructions. Students then received a confirmation email letting them know that their poem was accepted by us and when they could expect to hear back from us. All poems were then sent on to our special Contest Selection Team comprised of Kevin DeLaney, Sharon Gilmore, and Darryl Lovie, who were tasked with choosing the winners.


So, without further ado, we present to you, your winners, in no particular order:

 

We Are All Made of Stories

Photo by S O C I A L . C U T on Unsplash


Poet: Niti Garg

Why Do They Bleach Our Lives


Why do they bleach our lives?

From rainbow-backed benches

to desks the colour of twine

From textbooks with pictures

to books that look like classified

From colouring outside the lines

to a world where even abstract is defined

From tinted glass panes

to clear panes looking at the pains of life

From beaded necklaces

To silver jewellery fine

From when actions seem black and white

To when there’s colour in our lives

Why do they bleach our lives?

 

Niti Garg is sixteen years old and enjoys dance, reading, music, talking and in her own words "annoying those close to my heart." She said if you asked her friends, they'd describe her as, "loud, quirky yet the mom of the group". She also added this, "Niti Garg fits only one label 'HUMAN' because how do you define someone that is constantly evolving." We will never forget that!!! Thank you for your words, Niti! You blew us away!


Type of Poetry: Free Verse


 

Poet: Noor Khokhar

The Pink Flower


I am the Pink flower,

Under the feet,

Stumbling around, trying to reach,

The Mirage of false happiness,

I see


I am sick of crying,

No more tears left,

I am still trying,

To make the life I dreamt of,

But under their feet,

I am.


I still cried, I still tried,

But now even the Mirage had disappeared,

All my life whatever I assumed to be my light,

Shattered,

And there my dreams lay now in the dark.


But now that the Mirage was gone,

I saw real hope,

The Pink of me that was long gone,

Reappeared,

Still I was under their feet.


Still from under those feet,

I swept away,

Where I had brought myself,


There those feet finally let me astray.


Now the Pink flower I am,

Without the weight of those feet,

Bruised, scarred and in pain,

Independent, free, and the Pink flower I wasn't supposed to be.


 

Noor Khokhar is fifteen years old and enjoys writing, reading and singing. We were so enamored by the use of metaphor and the incredible emotional depth weaved in this poem! Thank you for moving us with your words, Noor!!


Type of poetry form: Rhymed poetry and Free Verse


 

Poet: Anahad Sandhawalia

Untitled


And while thou, o aliferous beast flied,

Gliding through the sky, flapping its pinons

As tufts of clouds go by,

The grounded creature decries thy flight

As it seems to it that thou is burning daylight

But as higher thou went, soaring through the clouds and above,

Thou felt the sun flaring up

The sheer chaos in thy eyes

Made the giant ball of fire that prevails over the world,

Wince at thy sight

For never, not once on all its time,

Had it seen such exuberant madness

In someone's smile

Those who saw thee couldn’t help but cry

“Stop this lunacy! Or we will be the ones next.”

The wise men said, “Let him,

Alis volat proprils”

Alas no one paid heed, and so an arrow pierced thy skin,

But still thou soared higher, not willing to be still

Just inches from the ball of fire thou wanted all thy life,

One last effort, a loud cry,

And even the Sun couldn't resist the hell that broke loose in thy eyes

Then thy fell, willing to embrace death this time

For this beautiful lady they all spoke of,

Was right there, in front of thy eyes

Thou laughed as thou fell,

Blinded by the light

The men who watched thy fall sighed and said,

“Tam tristis, what a waste of a child”,

Because they knew not the epiphany you felt,

Because you flied before you fell


The ocean opened its arms,

Waiting to catch and lay thee to rest

For the cool waters caressed thy wounds

Making thee a part of itself

And even now, after years of thy flight

Mankind tells the story of the one

Who soared through the sky


Commentary by poet:

This piece of poetry is based upon the legend of Icarus in Greek mythology. Icarus was the son of the master craftsman, Daedalus. Daedalus crafted two wax wings for Icarus and himself to escape from the prison. In spite of being warned, Icarus flew close to the Sun which caused his wings to melt and so fell into the ocean and hence died.


 

Anahad is thirteen years of age and enjoys reading, writing, listening to music and playing sports like football, cricket, handball and tennis. Anahad also shared, "I also am very likely to have about 10 random interests all the time," which currently include, "learning the language of flowers, astronomy, Victorian age fashion and some others." We enjoyed the uniqueness of Anahad's poem and attention to details!


Type of Poetry: Free Verse


 

Poet: Maanas Garg

A Day in My Life


Alarm set for six, but I wake up before

And descend my feet to the shivering floor

Search for my slippers but I never get them

Then beneath the bed I have to bend.


Walk towards the door of my room

And my house seems like a silent tomb

Open the door where my mother had slept

And to my surprise for a morning walk she

went


She comes within fifteen minutes and sees me

well dressed

But I had to change them because they

weren’t pressed

Doing the same procedure once more

I realized I should pack my bag before


I entered the bus and hope for the traffic to be

light

And within few minutes the school was in

sight


I jogged and hopped and reached my class

Just to encounter my surprise test alas

This wasn’t the end of my ordeal

Shock came when I realized I left my meal


I spent the whole day with my stomach

gurgling

And reached the home with my feet trembling

I rattled out the whole day schedule, with a

deep sigh

Praying to convince my mother to say my

books goodbye


Last but not the least, came the biggest jolt,

When my mother showed me my school date

sheet in letters bold