Poetry Festival will be held:

Saturday, April 27, 2024

2016 Winner

Walking on a Bridge

I am walking on a wooden bridge

Sitting on the edge of a brook

Flowing with clear water from a grassy and lush hill.

The sound of the brook like a crackling

Fills my ears

Makes me oblivious to myself.

The breath of nature digs itself into my nostrils

with its blades of grass

And infuses my soul.

Its pellucid water is an undulating carpet of silver.

I cannot see anything else.

 

I am stable on the bridge, a solid feeling

that holds me up.

I study the bridge, kneeling down.

The planking is smooth, worn down by rain and snow.

The rusted nails still bite deep into the wood

And hold the bridge steady.

Its sides moist and cool

Dark-colored and fresh

From the brook that flows below.

I am safe.

 

I am gazing at the clouds

Staring at them.

My eyes rooted to the white wisps that move

slightly in the wind

But the wind is no more than a breeze,

the breath of a being divine.

The clouds are anchored by an unknown

fastening force in the sky.

I am dismayed

Because I cannot go up

With the clouds

To see the lands open up

Like a book

Before my eager eyes.

I am gazing at the stalks

Witnessing the stalks embracing the clouds

Feeling the earthly and archaic energy of

the stalks creeping into the clouds.

The stalks move, carrying the clouds with them

Double-bent like old men

But as lively as naughty children.

I am mollified

My disappointments carried away

Forgotten forever.

 

The tall stalks of wheat sway again as a sudden

gust ripples over them.

Opening up and closing

On a path

Overgrown with weeds and little stalks.

I suddenly stop.

My shoes squeak and catch on a loose nail

that I had not seen.

The impediment to my progress

Is kicked away into the brook

Gone forever.

My feet walk on unconsciously

On and on

In my signature gait

On my own path.

 

My consciousness wakes up

And is alarmed

When I am stopped by a dead end.

My naive bliss ends quickly.

Have I wasted my life?

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William Cho

St. Albans School

Grade: 8

Hometown:

Woodley Park

Birthplace:

New Haven, CT

Favorite Author or Book:

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Dream for the Future:

I would like to become a writer. I would be happy if the world was a safer and more peaceful place.

Inspirational Figure:

My father and grandfather