First place winners
by Lee Wheatley
The iron burns in sunburst glow
Till in the din of clamor
Might and sweat and blow by blow
It is forged by anvil and by hammer.
The sinewy smithy wields
The levered arm of hammer peens.
The heated metal strains and yields
To hard harmonic swings.
Be they made to please the eye
Or shaped and bent for tool
Clenched, annealed and quenched
And set to harden as they cool.
From furnace heated wrought
To the blacksmith's final form
Shaped to its maker's thought
And stamped with his decorum.
Thus for all your days prepare
And meet them ever alike.
When you are the anvil bear;
When you are the hammer strike.
High school category
Just a Little More
by Ree Fox
If I take the time writing
about windy autumn days and choppy seas,
about true loves both tragic and everlasting,
about houses that smile or my lady's white skin,
Couldn't you read this with more feeling?
I mean, come on.
After pouring my soul into this page,
listing every detail in my head,
proclaiming that the might and fearing gods may come
and steal me away into the black night,
but I would never cave in,
always keeping that secret so close,
that secret that could destroy all faith and hope in this world,
crush all dreams that have been and ever will be,
Couldn't you announce these words with character?
I can't bear to put down these lines
that are so deep
and meaningful to my person just to hear them repeated
in the tone of nothing.
To be pronounced in a dull voice,
no excitement, no sorrow,
no understanding coming to the reader.
Let this be my dying wish.
That when I take this paper and this pen,
and write all that I know,
exclaim all that I feel,
acknowledge to you, all that I am,
Can you read it with just a little more feeling?
by Nkechi Erondu
A sister is like a sword.
Her harsh words can sometimes pierce your heart.
She can like she is a queen,
Stomping over you as if you are invisible.
She guards her belongings,
As a mother bear guards her young.
Her moods change,
Like the phases of the moon.
She is sometimes like a mountain that is too high.
Her accomplishments are sometimes too hard to like up to.
She is like flowing water.
Her smart comments erode at your nerves.
A sister is like a handkerchief that always dries your tears.
She is like a cure.
She can always heal your pain away.
She can be like the pages of your diary.
Where you tell your deepest and darkest secrets.
She is like a rainbow at the end of a storm
Who you can run to after a bad day.
She is like a shadow,
She will be with you until the very end.
And her compassion can be as gentle as a lamb.
A sister is like a rose,
After the thorns have been cut away, all that is left is beauty.
Middle school category
by Erik Brown
The world I live in is not at peace,
In the world I dream of, fighting would cease.
Peace, to me, means happiness every hour,
If peace had happened, we'd have our Twin Towers.
Peace is grateful, pleasant and calm,
Like a gentle, swaying, sabal palm.
Peace is a treat for your eyes,
It should be treasured and not despised.
Peace is a soft feeling that I hold dear,
With it in our world, we would live without fear.
The Columbia County News-Times ©2013. All Rights Reserved.