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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.



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.



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.

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