Celebrating the poets of Madera County
Wendy Alexander/The Madera Tribune Liam McMillon, shows off his first place certificate after his poem earned him first place in the 3rd-6th grade age group during the First Annual Poetry Contest 2020 hosted By Friends of the Madera County Library.
A few weeks ago, I wrote a column about poetry, and in it I informed you about the 1st Annual Poetry Contest that the Friends of the Madera County Library was conducting this year.
Everybody is a poet, at some time or other, and writing poems can be a hidden talent within many of us. Poetry is a grand expression of feelings and purpose.
Immediately following the article, I received several poems from people who felt compelled to express themselves through poetry. Bill Coate let me know that Clay Daulton had written a poem, which we published in The Madera Tribune. I also received a beautiful poem written by Ila Schoettler when she was in high school. What a delight to receive that great poem! Thank you, Ila. I cherish this poem you sent to me. It is very special. I shall publish it later this year, as it is a Christmas poem. (And I will not forget to return it to you.)
Now, the contest is over, and the judges have chosen their favorites. The poems are published in the Madera Tribune, along with the pictures of the poets who won awards. I believe that all the entries were winners.
Congratulations! Thank you for your participation in the First Annual Poetry Contest.
— Nancy Simpson, Treasurer and business manager
The Madera Tribune
Poetry Winners
Mornings With My Dad
By Liam E. McMillon
The start of a new tomorrow begins in the morning I like the big yellow sun and its pointy spikes
The sun is literally hotter than lava
but when it rises
I know it’s a new day.
At night my dad sleeps like a dead animal. I wake up before he does
my dad is everything to me.
He’s my world.
He smells like cologne.
He buys me everything.
He’s cool like John Wick and handsome like him too.
In the morning when my dad wakes
I am happy he is still alive.
I feel special spending days with my dad.
He’s so perfect.
He’s my best friend
well he’s the only friend I really have.
June
By Teja Brar
I remember.
I remember the beach.
I remember vacations.
I remember the fun days.
I remember finding coral.
I remember.
India is a beautiful place
By Jaspreet Brar
India is a beautiful place
There are so many colors on so many mothers
I glance at dancers so many prancers
Their music is so loud in all of this crowd.
I like their songs and I listen all day long.
It is such a treat
I like to eat Indian sweets and also rotis!
I hope to go there one day
I plan to play and play.
I would like to stay but I have to go back to the USA
An Old Letter
By Mia Garza
“They say friends come and go, but family is forever.
Well if that’s so; a friend is nothing but an old letter.
You read it once, but keep it forever
As a memory for the worse or the better.
You’ll enjoy all the good times and cry at the tough.
Sure, friendship can be a bit rough
but there’s still that feeling of love.”
Look forward, not back
By Hunter Holguin
When did you last lookup
To watch the sky
Melancholy clouds drifting by
To watch the trees
Dying Leaves falling from cruel disease
To watch the stars
Hazy from the pollution of outdated cars
To watch the birds
Ballerinas who’s cries for aid lie unheard
When did you last lookup
To watch our hopeless unfixable world
When did you last look around
To see metal Monstrosities
Gas guzzling Atrocities
To see destitute beggars
Forsaken to rot like fruit in a cellar
To see smoking billions
Wasting pointless of millions on millions
To see ice caps melting
Leaving polar bears and penguins sweating
When did you last look around
To see our hopeless unfixable world
When did you last look down
To consider oceans are rising inches
Ignored by the 1% preoccupied with their riches
To consider 78 million acres of rainforest
Lost burning to a sorrow-filled Coris
To consider thousands of landfills
All lie collapsing miserably overfilled
To consider the shoes you use to walk
May of been compiled by a child in a sweatshop
When did you last look down
To consider our hopeless unfixable world
When did you last look forward
To dream of a world full of trees
Unplagued by any crippling disease
To dream of a world where the cost of breathing
Wouldn’t be your lungs slowly leaving
To dream of world of electric cars
Who without a sip of gas could go twice as far
To dream to fix the mistakes
That past generations refuse to admit they make
When did you last look forward
To dream of a hope-filled world waiting to be fixed
Life’s purpose with meaning
By Jasmin Navarreye
Life’s purpose, unseen but felt
Yet to find one of its own is
An adventure to live for.
Time has no start
For something
With great meaning
its journey to discovery begins
When they are seeking it.
Discovering a purpose,
comes by to shed it light
As they are lost
A purposes meaning opens
Never fading its impact but
It never reveals
The one they all seek.
Life’s purpose
As they start to walk away,
They stumble,
They stop,
They seek once more,
And with hope they open.
Its revealed, its unexpected
It’s not visible, it’s felt.
Souls are strengthened and thus they live an adventure with purpose.
They continue on until its time.
As they say
Life’s purpose is with no words,
Lost is a roadblock in the journey.
Discover not just purpose
But life’s purpose.
Nothing is not ever it’s meaning
It’s meaning that is for all
is felt when ready.
an adventure told and its life’s purpose unwrapped.
I Am Wrath
By Crystal Gonzales
I am wrath but you cannot see,
The storm that’s forming a of me.
I pray to God to calm the storm,
And in that moment a rainbow forms.
I watch the waves of the dangerous sea,
But it’s the sound of the ocean that comforts me.
I look past the waves of the treacherous sea,
Because it calms the storm forming inside of me.
I walk along the beach I love,
Where seagulls fill the sky above.
As I watch the waves of an unforgiving sea
It’s the sound of the ocean that comforts me.
Dream While Awake
By Ignacio Negrete
Market climbing. People dying. Politicians lying as populations declining. War does it quickest but deny this pandemic and the masses will die from illness. Injustice and protest ignored while authoritarian tactics adored.
Dream of the day when a dream is the way that we all live our lives with no profit to gain. The transactions are done, corporations, not one. The dark age of money fades into the sun.
Now the future is bright, not just day but at night. Leaders rise to the top and we’re all in the fight. We fight not for power or an ivory tower. Instead will make others wise and distribute the power.
No time to look back, we’re on the attack, the greed of our past will forever react. Greed’s grasp tries to infect the mass but we’ve evolved past. Our goals now aligned, our world redefined, we stand side by side, our vision is one, now let’s get it done.
Life
By Frankie Luna
I’ve heard before that life is a gift,
so does that make me gifted?
Honestly I been so down lately, & so twisted,
I need a helping hand, to help keep me lifted.
When I was young, I was also conflicted.(almost convicted)
I use to sit and watch the rain drop.
Wondering when does this pain stop?
I tried moving forward but always ended up in the same spot.
The tracks of my tears left a trail of hurt,
I couldn’t disguise.
some days I would stare into a mirror,
& the person glancing back I wouldn’t recognize.
He’d glare right into my eyes,
& in his eyes I would see hatred.
You want a poem about life?
My life was bloody painted.
Grew up on streets, where empathy had been tainted,
and we are who we aquaint with.
Every night dodging Bullet Blankets,
running from cops to avoid constraint wrists.
It’s sad but we each faced the same risks,
for traveling that mislead direction.
This crazy life is full of confrontations,
and misread intentions.
One Misstep and you’re took out of contention.
Pay attention, this life has no compensation.
People insist this life is a gift,
than let’s switch places and have that conversation.
It’s only a gift if you grow up in the right block.
for the rest of us, minorities, it’s not.
it’s a battleground, a war on an endless clock.
this life we live, the cycle of violence needs to stop.
