It was pretty hard
to be funny,
to make others laugh,
to be interesting
enough to keep them engaged.
Never had gossip,
no one wanted to sit.
I was alone,
my luck wasn't sown.
To be in a circle,
to match standards—
fancy words,
pockets filled,
blue blood—
everything I missed.
No one ever taught me,
what do I do?
Try or lose?
An empty bench near me,
convo of others stab my ears.
I lack something—
how do I fulfill?
So what if I don't know stuff,
don't have an accent?
Isn't the natural self impressive?
Are the chances that low,
not even a single person similar to my core?
Whom do I message,
play video games with,
share my lunch with?
So what if I lack things?
I can be a learner,
the new trends might be fun,
a stroll in the park might feel good,
giggling with friends—that could be cool.
So what if I ain't a performer?
I can still be pure,
love everyone,
Sometimes be the cure.
Part One
They say some people have more patience than others. I'm not sure that's true. People are only patient at pretending. The right word isn't patient - it's people-pleaser. That goes for you, and it goes for me.
Someone once said that to understand yourself, you must first understand others. I am aching for this season to end. I just want to understand myself - to help this poor, tired soul.
I can't compete with your definition of a "perfect moon" - because I was never even a moon. I never the chance, nor even a glance.
I doubt I ever felt at home - at home, or anywhere else. And if I did, was I playing music out loud? Was I bay holding up a smile? Or was I, just for once, unaware of my own appearance - finally, quietly, at ease?
Sometimes you think if we remove this actor from the stage, all eyes will finally be on you. But those eyes were only ever on you because of that actor.
A girl
A mask
A stage
A curtain
A performance
An audience
Showtime.
A girl.
Forced, stuck, suffering
A mask.
So well built, you’ll never see reality.
The pure. Raw. Emotion.
A stage
You see the smiling.
The laughter.
The confidence.
A curtain.
When the curtain closes
You don’t see the pain.
The suffering behind the curtain
A performance
Lasting forever
An audience.
The world.
“The world is my audience
The stage is my cage
This mask is to last
When the curtain falls
The mask falls along with it.
A performance, My performance.
My cage
My mask
My shackles to this hell
My audience to entertain
My performance.
Where the curtain comes down but never forever
Alas I deserve this.
For the sinner, the curtain call has come
I know i may not sound it but faced with death, I find myself a little afraid.
My performance, everlasting
My everlasting performance
The everlasting performance”
Hair straightened,
A slick back bun,
Each follicle - has a part to play,
Silence -
Not one hair out of place,
If they were she would be called a disgrace
Makeup done -
To perfection,
Before she performs,
She will face inspection,
The other girls with skin so fair,
Don’t have to deal with treatment so unfair,
But the girl with dark skin -
Knew she would never win,
For they were very critical of her blackness
Her body,
Tightly squeezed into -
A leotard two sizes, too small,
And a tutu, that swallows her whole,
They gave it to her,
Because they said that her thighs jiggle,
And that for her age it was unnatural,
She was a black girl,
And all the other girls were skin and bones,
It’s not her fault she looks ‘grown’
She couldn’t complain otherwise they would label her non compliant
This all happened before her performance,
And, yet she outperformed all the white girls,
And just like her skin - her medal reflected gold
Moving, passionately
Feeling your emotions deep into your bones
Letting your soul release
Giving up a piece of yourself
In order to create
Reaching into the depths of who you are
Pouring yourself out
The audience watches
But no one sees
Profound, immeasurable
The comfort
The anguish
Your heart beating out
Taking it all in
Every count
Every breath
Every dance
Telling your story
I have better things to do
aint no need worrying about you
the sun is shining to day
just listen to what I gotta say
Sweetie please understand
I'm doing all I can
see fixing the we
in our relationship is what
we really need to do.
Sung the first stanza wrong
sound like it was what I
was feeling
spoke ah-couple words wrong
Woman you got me reelin
when we got to the happy song
it kinda changed my feelings
I started looking forward
to singing with youi
Dance with me
honey romance with me
it's all about you
Reallyt I love the thangs
you do
those ah-ooh ah's
the range when it's realy high
taking second glances
finding the nerve
to take a chance
This is part two of my poem, so if you haven't already, go ahead and read that one first. It will make much more sense.
All the love,
-Kaleigh <3
And so even in accidents,
even in mistakes,
there is a choice:
to feed the fire with care,
to guide it,
to contain it,
or to leave it free to burn whatever surrounds it.
After that, the flame grows
into whatever it’s given:
Warmth.
Light.
Destruction.
Or something strong enough
to transform everything.
A spark…
small enough to hold in your hand.
A spark…
bright enough to light a table,
a camp,
a life,
a movement.
A spark…
bright enough to ignite change
or leave everything in ash.
So I ask you:
What will you feed it?
What will you choose to burn?
Because fire—
like anger,
like courage,
like hope—
answers only to the hands
that strike the match.
The power is never in the fire itself.
The power
is in the hands
that dare
to strike the match.
I've heard many talk about honesty,
As though it is the best quality.
I know I hoped to be truthful,
But deep inside I acknowledge I was only brutal.
I've told them the horrible things many have done,
As a hypocrite, one could assume I held an empty gun.
I could pull the trigger,
But the bullet wouldn't speed past,
The only real difference would be the expressions so vast.
This would make me a liar,
but isn't that what the performance arts are?
the production is based on lies, but it seems as though it is the truth from afar.
Would being a liar truly be a sin?
If being truthful is what makes others hurt within.
One could consider every lie white,
For it may be the wrong words,
but compared to the honest, a liars' intentions are right.
some people attend church
with no godly intent
they see the worship service
as a red carpet event
decked out in their finest
from head to toe
preening like they're the stars
in the Hollywood show
no true concept of what
praising God is all about
these are the ones who would have caused
the stones to cry out
performance over presence
what they failed to understand
is that we come here to honor
and give praise to the Son of Man
no way of comprehending
that we're spiritually transcending
an inability to see
how to be spiritually free
to worship Christ is to show
adoration and reverence
it's not a live show requiring
a stage presence
to acknowledge God is to submit
your will and your life
and to understand your Divine purpose is
to acquiesce to the Lord Christ
performance over presence
what they failed to discover and discern
is that there is freedom in Christ,
a lifestyle true believers have learned
Sunrays splatter into a visual delight
A playful dance until the dark of night
I'll never possibly fall asleep.
This mosquito is playing his tune nonstop.
Thinks he's at Metropolitan Opera.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Autumn is a graceful ballerina.
Artfully displaying her charm, wisdom and colours.
Embracing the dance of death.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025, 3rd place 2026
As quick as that, for an action
No twitch, no thought preceeds
In elegant swaying. A flowering shrub
Its calm to gusting cedes.
Zookeepers have the best jobs
They're surrounded by animals of every kind
~ Noah's number on speed dial
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention
I used to hate dresses,
The feeling of air blowing onto my legs and the need for sandals.
I hated the way my light blonde leg hair would shine so brightly in the sun.
High schoolers were so scary,
Taller than me, bigger than me, more mature.
Now I am that high schooler and I still feel that way about them.
I’ve always been the smallest girl on the field, in the classroom, on stage.
It gnaws at me because it is unchangeable.
Unchangeable in ways I would do anything for.
Gone are the days of running around on the playground,
Now are the days of straightened hair and perfect outfits.
Girlhood hits like a train, ending the non-gender conforming ways of childhood imagination.
Pre-conceived notions and unachievable expectations.
I used to be afraid to perform.
But that’s what girlhood is.
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