The theme: My Place
The winners:
Art
My Dreams Are My Place
By Brianna B.
Age 15
I made this simply because I want to travel around the world. Drawing helps me escape reality to fantasy. I create my drawings as I create my life.
Poetry
My Life, My Place
Pots and pans clanging.
T.V. blaring.
Dog barking.
Little brother whining.
My home. My place.
Books closing.
Lockers slamming.
Teenagers gossiping.
My school. My place.
Leaders preaching.
Choir singing.
Pages turning.
Everyone praying.
My temple. My place.
Music blasting.
Bodies gracefully leaping.
Feet shuffling.
Faces smiling.
My dance studio. My place.
Stress building.
Thoughts flying.
Memories returning.
Dreams forming.
My mind. My place.
Career flourishing.
Family thriving.
World cooperating.
Problems disappearing.
My future. My place.
By Ayesha M.
Age 17
This poem depicts all the places I belong to.
Prose
Down the Road
June 2nd, 011
There has always been something rather magical about Tuesdays evenings, especially in Charlotte , Iowa
I was in my room, just last Tuesday, sorting through my belongings. When you go off to college, you tend be ushered out quickly. Or that’s how my parents are. My mother is the dominating figure in our household. She wanted me to go far away for school. She would have sent me off to the North Pole if she could, but obviously there aren’t any colleges there; so she settled for New York
As a child, my Dad would buy me little books, teaching me about mythological creatures. I was sort of interested, but as I grew older, my fascination wore off. My fairytale collection is stacked in the corner of the room, waiting for a human grasp of any sort. The poor things have been neglected for so long that they had a thin layer of dust on top. Carefully, I pick up my scrapbook that sits in an empty drawer. Like the fairytales, it had also been ignored. Very gently did I start turning the pages, staring at pictures of colorful tulips, beautiful roses, and my favorite, wild daisies. Mom never was much of a gardener. She likes to look at them through glass, but tending for them was never a goal, never excited her much. And so, for the longest time, our garden was a simple patch of dirt.
Everything changed when Caleb moved across the street.
Having new neighbors is a rare event. Almost anyone outside of Iowa
After all, today is our eleventh.
I peered through the curtains all day, watching the new people move in. There was a mother, a father, and a young boy, just about my age. His light brown hair bounced as he ran from the front porch into the house, to the mailbox and then to the car. His shoelaces were undone and I was just surprised that his mother wasn’t scolding him for pestering the workers. His jeans were covered in grass stains and his T-shirt had a tear near his sleeves. It made me wonder where he was from, where he was allowed to run with such freedom. My dark brown eyes blinked again and suddenly there were two blue eyes staring back at me through the window. “Are you going to come and play?” He asked, his voice loud enough to hear behind the glass. I jumped up, shouted to my mother, and was out the door in a flash.
“I’m Caleb,” he announced, “C like Corn. A like Apple. L like Legal. E like Elephant and B like... Like...” He paused, glancing down, thinking hard for a B word.
“B like Boogie Monster?” I suggested and he nodded his head.
“Exactly!” He grinned in approval, “B like the Boogie Monster!”
He turned around, his eyes dancing at the mysterious staircase a few houses down our street. The staircase left up to a mysterious road, one that most people only took when looking for adventure. It was supposedly the pathway to a mansion. When it was burnt down in 1846, no one ever put in the effort to recover the beautiful house. What was left was a legend and rumors of ghosts and spirits. There were stories- like one time, a girl walked in and never came out. During the winter, you could hear howls from the wolves nearby and I would just cover my ears, waiting for them to be over. He started trudging up the stairs that led to the Road, an area I tried to avoid at all costs. No one knew what was in the area where the mansion once stood. As I watched him start walking, my eyes widened, my feet frozen in their spot. I wasn’t allowed there. Mom told me if I ever set foot there, I would be grounded for life. Dad said I would be taken by the Shadows. Both options sounded pretty awful and so I was terrified at the thought. Caleb stopped, seeing that his new companion wasn’t following him. “I already told my Mom that I was with you. She said she would tell your Mom! So c’mooon,” he teassured, his hand waving for me to come. I didn’t want to seem like the weak link in our newfound friendship. I never had been very popular with the other children, especially since Leon
The trees were starting to get taller and taller as we walked in further and further. The shadows grew darker. The grey clouds loomed above us. It looked like it was about to rain any moment. Something ruffled in the woods, causing me to stiffen. A light breeze flew by, my body shivering from the cold. The feeling of security was gone. The only reason why I didn’t run out screaming was because Caleb was there. I had only met him ten minutes earlier, but already it was as if I could feel his hand in mine. The way his bright eyes looked at me, how his lips would curl when I said something that he approved of, it was like having my own personal north star. He was guiding me and frankly, I trusted him.
It wasn’t long before my feet got tired. I was below average height in my second grade class and so I had the tendency to be just a bit slower than everyone else. I bit my lip to keep myself from complaining too much. Because I was an only child, I wasn’t used to keeping my mouth shut too often. My parents were always there to listen. “Caleb, are we th- oof!” I accidentally bumped into him, causing the two of us to fall onto the grass. Almost instantly, he was back on his feet, brushing himself off before helping me up as well. This area wasn’t familiar to me. I lived here all of my life and never once had I wandered this far into down the Road. Around me were grass and weeds reaching in every direction, straining for sunlight that seemed to be peering from the heavens above. The trees were almost smiling, their branches waving at us. The most remarkable part were millions and millions of flowers surrounding us. They weren’t anything special, just wild daisies, but as a child, it was a marvelous sight. It was almost as if the Fairy Queen deemed us her prince and princess.
“Wow! Caleb!” My lips spread into a wide smile as I leaned back to stare at the sky. The seven year boy grinned at me before grabbing my hand, dragging me into the center of the field. We stayed there for what seemed like ages. We caught fireflies with our hands and ooh’ed and ahh’ed as they flew away. We spent our summers like that, living like children, dreaming big, and loving life to its fullest.
My eyes were filled with tears by the time I got to the end of the scrapbook. I shook my head, trying to the trembles in my body. Caleb and I were best friends for a long time. We planted daisies in front of our house that bloomed beautifully in the sun. When it rained, they looked like pixie dust had just been sprinkled on top. We went at each other’s house every chance we got, pretending to be imaginary creatures. In my backyard, we would be fairies and pixies. It was down the Road when our powers were at its full strength. Daisy petals showered our hair, leaving our cheeks rosy and youthful.
It was the summer before seventh grade when our rituals stopped. He stopped them first. He had grown almost two feet and a half since the day I first met him. He was no longer the little boy I once knew. Muddy shoelaces were replaced with cleats and grass stained jeans were no more. I knew he would grow up. I just never thought his blue eyes that once lit my days up with excitement, would suddenly extinguish, leaving me in the dark to fend for myself.
“Grow up,” he said to me.
It was a Tuesday summer evening, 1983.
It’s been three weeks since we graduated.
It’s been four years since we started high school.
It’s been five years since he grew up.
It’s been five and a half years since I went back down the Road.
It’s been six years since our last summer together.
And it’s been eleven years since we first met.
There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t close my eyes and feel the comfort Caleb once gave me. Funny how some things work out. Today is a Tuesday. The leaves are starting to turn their brightest green and the wild daises are already at full bloom. The sky is starting to darken and the sun is slowly sinking behind the silhouettes of smiling trees.
By Katie Q.
Age 17
Most people live in the present, others still live in the past. As we grow older, we become enamored with the idea of childhood and therefore, there will always be a place in our hearts for what used to be.
Honorable Mentions
Poetry
The Dwelling of the Lord of Sky
Warning:
This is my place,
Do not intrude for I am the Lord of Sky.
Or I will banish you without a trace,
Forever be denied.
“A push of a button,
gadgets in whirs
an utter of spells
The cauldron stirs.
Up in the sky,
a cabin perched
on clouds it lies,
naked to the human eye.
A god stood with his hand up high,
He muttered a curse, he breathed a sigh.
The clouds closed in shutting out light
From earth, darkness swept by.
The moon survived and then it rose,
It then held strong.
Against the unrelenting currents of darkness
That had just begun.”
The dwelling was made of solid wood,
Its insides filled with golden ore.
Gadgets and machines, around they stood,
Robots, weapons, and spellbooks galore!
The ground was gems,
Stairs were diamonds,
The roof was slim
Heaps of diamonds.
{Yes I am a nutty one
and here on clouds I have much fun.
My house is 200 stories high.
Did I tell you it also flies?
I have my own cloudy lake
Ozone and nitrogen make tasty cakes.
I control how the aircrafts fly,
My lightning bolts are terrible guides.
You know, they just plunge around,
Blasting those humans with booming sounds.
This is my cabin, my place,
My dwelling in the sky.
Who am I? You sure you have not a trace?
I am your Jupiter, Zeus, Lord of the Sky!
Hail the Olympus on the clouds!}
By Billy H.
Age 12
My Place
This hidden place I crawl myself into,
It’s suffocating and intoxicating
Every day is the same as the last
I step out and I get a slap in the face
So I crawl back into my place
I wait until that one day
When He comes down to save me,
I know He will deliver me from evil
But that evil keeps sucking me in
And I crawl back into my place
I’m trapped with no way out of this maze
Death is rolling through every wall
I can’t stay in here for very long
Or it will come and destroy me
But why do I crawl back into my place?
I see that light in front of me
And I realize it’s just my dumb lamp
It had only been a silly dream
What a relief to find out it’s all over
I turn off the light and,
I crawl back into My Place
By Victor T.
Age 17
My True Home
A place of family,
Filled with love and care.
Where I first grew up,
It is the place,
Where my grandparents reside.
Though not my house,
It is my true home.
Its white walls,
Covered with memories –
Pictures both old and new.
From whom I first learned to use a knife,
And follow a recipe,
There grandma stands –
Cooking
The kitchen always in use.
Though not my house,
It is my true home.
Music,
With no sheets nor notes
Just a piano,
A harmonica,
And a ukulele.
Bringing joy and laughter,
Grandpa inspires me,
A young child,
With his musical talents.
So begin my lessons,
First a piano then a violin.
Though not my house,
It is my true home.
By Alyssa C.
Age 16
Katie Wheeler Branch Library
My
Special Place
Special Place
1) From My Heart to Your Heart,
2) From My Battlefield to Your Battlefield,
3) From the Wars I have Fought, to the Wars You have Fought,
4) From the Fake Video Game Series of Call of Duty, to the Real Life War Games happening in Iraq as we speak,
2) From My Battlefield to Your Battlefield,
3) From the Wars I have Fought, to the Wars You have Fought,
4) From the Fake Video Game Series of Call of Duty, to the Real Life War Games happening in Iraq as we speak,
5) From the Leader of the Los Angeles Lakers (Kobe Bryant of course), to the Captains and Different Soldiers in the Military,
6) From the Famous Singer Justin Bieber, to all the Woman who continue to serve Our Country,
7) From all the “From’s” I’ve used in this poem, to all the “Thank You’s” you guys have gotten while fighting for our country,
8) I have decided that My Place is a place that I can’t stop thinking about and appreciating when I go to sleep, 9) The place I am talking about is My Heart, and all of the things that lie within in it.
10) Specifically, it is what I call Family, and what all the Soldiers call Home.
11) Therefore, I say God Bless to all the Soldiers who are fighting constantly to protect our country, and God Bless to the United States of America
By Arya T.
Age 15
Aliso Viejo Branch Library
The reason I wrote my entry was not to win, but to send a special message to everyone. That is basically it :)
Homeland
Trablus
My home of birth
Your sea of blue I swam to pursue
Your mountain of green I climbed to dream
Your crowded street I strolled for food to eat
Your sudden rain I remember so plain
Your traditional culture I never departure
My land of origin
Trablus
By Jad N.
Age 14
I was born in
Her Unsettled Place
A chilling breeze burning through her body,
The half-open window glass
Lets her view the open world
And its wonders, no doubt
And the horrors that came with it
An uncollected gust of wind
Poking through the uneven, hurt, painful edges of glass
A slow brush against the glass forces out the striking,
Illuminated, iridescent beads of blood
Onto the surface
The overpowering, hypnotizing wind
Melodiously picks up the ache,
Gently, softly carries it away through a dream
As the mysteries unravel themselves
Her eyes open in astonishment,
Her view upon the world outside the glass
Slowly changes
The smell of the spring flowers
Morphing into the scent of darkness
The sun smiling upon her through the window
Unable to get through the fogged glass
A half-open smile, etched upon her face
And a glance outside the window
Brings realization into her body
And a burning chill down her back
Realization of her place,
Her unsettled place in this world,
Finally comes to the restless girl
By Akshay V.
Age 15
Prose
Traditional Dishes from Vietnam
Phở is a Vietnamese noodle soup usually served with beef (Phở Bò) and chicken (Phở Gà). The soup includes noodles made from rice and is often served with Vietnamese basil, lime, bean sprouts that are added to the soup by the diner. The origin of Phở is still unknown; however, Phở was created under Chinese and French influences. Its location seems to be somewhere southwest of Hanội in Nam Dinh Province in the early 20th century. The cooks tried to please both the French and Vietnamese people by creating a mixture of tastes from the Chinese (with local rice noodles, of Chinese origin) and the French (red meat, of French origin). It was first served from vendors in large boxes until the first pho restaurant opened in the 1920 at Hanội. After the defeat of South Vietnam , refuges brought this traditional Vietnamese dish to many different countries, including the U.S.
Bún bò Huế
Bún Bò Huế is a famous Vietnamese soup rice vermicelli dish. The main flavor of the dish is lemon grass. Bún Bò Huế originated in the old imperial capital of Central Vietnam , Huế. The broth is prepared by cooking beef bones for a long period of time, as well as a large variety of different spices including lemon and chili. Shrimp paste is also a very important ingredient. It is common for a diner to add a dollop of shrimp paste directly to the soup. Bún bò Huế is commonly served with mung bean sprouts, lime wedges, cilantro sprigs, raw onions, and thinly sliced banana blossom and usually includes chunks of well cooked oxtail, thin slices of marinated beef shank, and pig’s knuckles or pork. Purple cabbage or iceberg lettuce will usually replace banana blossom. They both resemble banana blossom in texture, not in taste. Bún bò Huế can also include cubes of congealed pig blood, which has a color between dark brown and maroon, and a texture resembling gelatin.
Bánh Cuốn (Spring Rolls)
Spring rolls, sometimes referred to as a summer roll, are basically not fried eggrolls. Not only do these rolls taste good, but they are good for you. The spring roll differentiates to the eggroll because you are able to be creative, use your imagination, and mix and match. The Spring Roll consists of fried or not fried meat, shrimp, prawn, sausage, and lobster. The veggies include cucumbers, lettuce, mint leaves, basil leaves, and cilantro leaves. You will also need rice spring roll wrappers and the dipping sauce, nước mắm pha. To create the sauce, add fish sauce, lime, garlic, sugar, small red and green peppers and water. Mince the garlic and peppers. Add the sugar into a bowl of hot water to help dissolve it quickly. Add fish sauce, lime, and the minced garlic and peppers into the sugar water. Now go out there and create your own Spring roll!
Age 12
Garden Grove Regional Library
Artist Statement :
I wrote this peice of prose because my mom inspired me. All of her family lives in Vietnam and she wishes they came here to live with her. Without them, she feels alone. This inspired me to write this essay. She is afraid that when she calls back home that one of her family member will get hurt and that she won't be able to see them again. For example, my uncle died and she never got a last chance to say good bye.
