I grew beneath the leaves,
where shadows kept their secrets.
The shadows of the field.
Still, I grow,
rounding in the dirt,
like a small orange moon.
No one saw me.
Rain touched my shoulders,
bees hummed over my hidden face.
The vine twisted around me and gently whispered “just wait”
So I waited…
Soon Autumn came.
The cool crisp breeze.
Blowing the leaves from my face,
Uncovering me for the first time.
There I was—
Unhidden, for the first time.
Big, bright, round and orange.
The grandest pumpkin, you once couldn’t see.
But I was there.
Patiently waiting to be seen.
Kohl is nightfall when
her bright hours decrease
etching the silhouette of trees ;
Beneath drooped willows,
grief ‘s ache unravels
a mourning in fallow shade
wrinkled as petals, cold...frigid.
How her isolation throbs again again
spring blossoms drying in a vapid sky;
That gushing out into soft rain
lamentation is a woman's reply ,
much like an old maiden
without a fertile soil of a home:
Murmurs of branches
deepen a caressing tune.. and she
hums a choked melody, ' I'm by
this window panting ' here where
nobody sees me cry...'
and allaying eve’s beleaguered wail ;
crystal dew pours on grounds
misty like her fluid tears… ebbing.
Every day hurts a little more,
Feels like I'm sleeping on a concrete floor.
Every day I feel worse,
Wear my body like a curse.
My energy drained by years of pain,
Every moment lost came with no gain.
So many passions set aside,
So many dreams I learned to hide.
And every day that I look back,
I see the widening of every crack.
A stolen childhood wrapped in shame,
My heart learned how to bear the blame.
A command to smile when I was ill,
But they never let me eat my fill.
Everyone else had needs to be met,
And they haven't even considered mine yet.
Every breath fills my lungs with a fire
That can never match my heart's desire.
Every beat of that treacherous heart
Taught me how to play their part.
Every step I will ever take,
They never thought I had the strength to make.
Yet every day that I awake,
I see again how much it can take.
So here I seek solace among the trees,
No judgement in the gentle breeze.
Here I'll sit and silently weep
For all I've lost and could not keep.
We swam in the teeming torrent of tinged twilight
across the crimson crescendo of stardust salsa
to the broken edge of the nocturnal niche,
melting in the sunburst dulcet dawn, entwining us.
We floated on the ripples of the jasmine breeze
in the wake of satin shadow of catamaran clouds,
and soared high on the cobalt canopy of belonging,
swathed by the tonal tapestry of our lavender love.
In the drizzle of departing twilight you walked away
from my withered garden once an emerald emblem.
Your stride squashed the flower of my longing,
its pining petals lay in my demolished heart’s debris.
I now saunter sullen to the silent sea-shore of sorrow,
my emotions swirl like the crests of broken waves
in the tide of remote time when you were mine.
I fail to discern where the stream I cry flows to lie.
You’ll never know how much I miss you.
While the splinters of my heart weep secretly
furtive tears roll in search of you in ecstasy ruins.
l hide here so nobody sees me cry.
Nobody stays till the last.
You will have only yourself.
So don't depend on others.
Be your own happiness.
women have
dealt with
nonsense
for years
and years.
Don't come in
our lives
to just hate
gossip gawk
and leer.
AND NOBODY THERE
THE GREAT AMERICAN FAIR
ANYBODY CARE
The walls are closing in.
People walk on by without seeing me.
They talk right through me.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2026
For those who said I am a nobody,
you truly don't know me.
I am a somebody.
I am a teacher, mentor, and a cheerleader.
I am not a nobody.
I am a person who has feelings.
I am a person who is a somebody.
Who are you to say otherwise.
I am powerful, and strong.
How can that be wrong?
For those who said,
I was dumb and stupid.
You were wrong. I am strong, entrepreneur, teacher, mentor, and a cheerleader!
Thank you!
A child your age should know better.
You know exactly why you're being punished.
I hope you never do that again.
Let this be a lesson you'll remember.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
BUILDING SA TOGETHER AND LEAVING NO ONE BEHIND
South Africa our Nation
'Cause of some actions
We have been apart
hatred filled in our hearts
Cries heard day to night
during day day light disappearing
We have been captured as rats
We lived with threats
Our lives as hard as nuts
We should not make eye to eye
rather let bygons be bygons
We must bury the hatchet
we no its easy to say than to do
Do stand together by any means
lets go at making everything right
For our Nation to have light
If we stand together wecan win
Win this battle together as a pride
Nobody Died in Auschwitz
Don't let them fool you.
Don't believe the easy lies.
Nobody "died" in Auschwitz
Nor in any of their 10,000 Murder Factories.
No - that's too easy to say.
Starvation = Murder
Disease = Murder
Abuse = Murder
Medical "Experiments" = Murder
Exposure = Murder
They were sent there to die,
But all were helped along to it.
This is what happens
When ordinary people
Turn ordinary people
Into smoke
After those ordinary people
Embrace extraordinary evil
And forget those other ordinary people
Are just like them.
So -
Nobody "died" in Auschwitz
Morality died instead.
Cry your crocodile tears, then just leave
AP: 3rd place 2026
I recall the wise words by Aesop, spoken,
and wonder, " Is our collective conscious broken?"
A hare can assuredly outpace
a tortoise in any fair race.
To say otherwise, I suggest, is inane.
I conclude, therefore, Aesop was insane.
If nobody listened—
would the poem still breathe?
If nobody listened,?would the words still matter??
Or would they curl up like burnt paper?
that never asked to understood?
What if the poet speaks?and the walls do not echo back?
Is a lighthouse still a lighthouse?if no ships are lost?
If nobody listened,?I would still write.
Because the poem
is not a performance?it is a pulse.?It is the stubborn proof?that I was here.
Because poetry is not begging?to be heard.
It is surviving being ignored.
Because somewhere between
in the deep unseen,
something always listens.
Maybe the poem was never meant
for the crowd.
Maybe it was meant for the one person
standing at the edge of themselves
On the tight rope of life
teetering…
Maybe it was meant for the future,?for the bones not yet formed,?
for children who will inherit unfinished sentences.
If nobody listened today,?tomorrow might.
And if tomorrow doesn’t,?the earth will.
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