Award-winning students appear on ITV to read their poems
and talk about poetry.
The shows continue to be available on ITV.
★ First Place Lower Division ★
Glingle Glaber
—inspired by “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll
Glingle Glaber lives in the glingle of Baba Jaga
where gilduash grows
and everything is squishy and snarly.
It eats jawa gloes with mushtails and hushtails.
Glingle Glaber’s forehead
is shaped like a fazzilian horehay,
and its eyes are as big as your kitchen.
It rolls on the floor
like a Baby-Dust-Born and it likes to
shrill, sizzle, snarl, and screech.
Glingle Glaber lives in glingle of Baba Jaga
where gilduash grows
and everything is squishy and snarly.
Alone by my dark, quilted bed,
Just like Mama sternly said,
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.
Halloween drawing frightfully near,
Creepy spirits lurking
In the ominous air,
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.
Standing in a pitch-black cave,
Midnight ticking near,
Stalactites dripping here and there,
Ghosts drifting through the haze,
They don’t frighten me at all.
Spiders hanging everywhere,
Like dripping death coming near,
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.
Saving my mortal soul
With everything on an empty mind,
Way under the deep, dark sea,
Where living souls cannot be!
Not at all.
Not at all.
No, life doesn’t frighten me at all.
Miranda Martien Grade 3, Hawthorne Elementary Poet-teacher: Veronica Cunningham Classroom Teacher: Lana Sherman
★ First Place Upper Division ★
Tonight’s Show
The sunset’s gold,
tangerine, blush, violet
The bright sun gives a silent wink
and whispers goodbye.
The night-time show
is about to start.
First, orchestral crickets
pull out their instruments.
Next, excited fireflies
switch on the spotlights.
Fragile moths
open their wingy curtains.
“Hoo, hoo,”
the owl sings.
The starlit show pauses,
leaves a massive dent.
The audience claws for more.
The garden snakes slither
their best moves.
Then acrobats
take on the crowd.
Don’t forget the skunk
who adds the woodland scent.
Please tell: Is there more?
Everyone forgets the rats
picking up all the trash.
Alas, the party is
coming to an end.
Say goodbye!
We hope to see you again!
I come from freckles and frowns; smiles and laughter;
Marriage and divorce; uncles, aunts and cousins.
I come from stories and pages, tales that rage,
Voice and song and letting go of reality.
I come from sunny beaches and endless drought,
Life and love and cold anger.
I come from fidgeting fingers and tall, endless legs,
Revenge and rivals and forgiveness.
I come from dreams and wishes that will never come true.
I come from a place like home.
Anna Hubbard Grade 5, Hawthorne Elementary Poet-teacher: Veronica Cunningham Classroom Teacher: Patricia Smith
★ Third Place Upper Division ★
Snow Cat
As the cat rode its bike through the snow with its brother
towed in back, the wind blew his scarf, and the other’s
hat flew off as he sat in the sled behind the bike.
The cats stopped and went in search of the hat,
but once they stopped, the beanie was already
buried in snow.
As they dug and dug with hope they would find it,
they finally did. The brother put it on and said,
“Let’s build a snow cat.”
As they grabbed the snow and formed it into balls,
as they made each one smaller than the last,
they gave the snow cat a tail and arms,
and put eyes on the face. But they’d forgotten the carrot.
They searched til they found a small but thick stick
and put it on the snow cat’s face. They found a hat
and drew a smile. And once they put the hat on,
their mom called them in for some warm milk and cookies.
As they went inside, they thought they heard a purrrrr
coming from the snow cat. But when they looked back,
the snow cat had vanished.
Jesse Ahrens Grade 6, Banyan Tree Learning Center Poet-teacher: Seretta Martin Classroom Teacher: Alicia Schoenwald
★ Special Award ★
Coded Language
Egyptians ride narrow boats with their gods
to sacred places around Egypt.
They bow to the gods.
The sun god, Ra, is with them.
I sense that there are many secrets
to uncover about Egypt.
Water ripples, and I taste the minty air.
It reminds me of the secret language
I created in first grade —
the Language of Golden Writing.
Gazing into the picture, do you see me?
I am a jar hovering above the door.
The old king’s organs are inside.
They were thought to give people
good luck while passing through
the chamber of the kings.
Be careful. You might fall
deep into the picture
like a sinking ship
bound for the bottom of the ocean.
Petar Radomirovic Grade 4, Spreckels Elementary Poet-teacher: Seretta Martin Classroom Teacher: Deron Bear
Border Voices Poetry Program 