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Sponored by J. Graham Publishing

Youth 15 - 18

 First Place—Kristi Kwan - Markham, ON

Kristi Kwan is a dreamer and enjoys writing [only in black ink], soul conversation and smiling about nothing. One day, she hopes to become a speech language pathologist.


Winner 1 - Certificate + $ 15.00 CAD
 

            Red

A single red ribbon
unraveled from her honey curls.
Picked up by the wind, it whispered
the high notes of a deadly perfume.
And with the quivering breath of a specter,
a silent whiff sends tears to my eyes.

Her name was unknown;
but perhaps a name was unnecessary,
irrelevant; even improper.
For no name is worthy of her glorious pulse.

A single red ribbon,
flies across the grey skies of November.
sweet, sweet November.
Contrast is such a magnificent concept.

It wraps around the neck of our great oak,
and swirls about in the air we breathe.
Subtly in an entirety of bold signatures,
I watch from my car window.
I see red. Red envelops, red telegrams.
Red ribbon that reflects the brightness in temptation;
that brushes the cheek of every man.
Poison to the pupils in a paradox of pleasures;
And even the strongest of the strong
shatter in frail reality.

Because the red ribbon,
like an inconspicuous trail in the snow,
is singing. A tune known to no man who inhabits the Earth;
a tune so divine that even the angels are bitter with envy.

The red ribbon, which muffles even the most urgent screams,
learns to clothe the crosses that stand guard for eternity.
They are not stone cold, but rather,
swaddled in the livelihood of the red ribbon.
A veil for our passions: an eccentric fear which restrains our essence.
Our hearts are immersed in red. Red ribbons.
It encircles the blunt and soundless barrel,
and it is tied around the finger
As a reminder;
of the bloodiest battle
that has ever been fought -- over a woman.

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Second Place - Kristi Kwan - Markham, ON

Winner 2 - Certificate + $ 10.00 CAD
 

         The Lie

It grew into a monstrous thing
nurtured by little details and made-up realism;
that vaguely resemble
rainbow sprinkles.

Toxic juices foamed on your lips,
mistaken for vanilla icing.
The syrupy sweetness burns my throat,
testing my tolerance.
fuzzy socks and lollipops try to comfort
but it stretched out across your vision.
like taffy – with a cherry on top –
no longer contained in your realm of control.
Pop goes the bubble.

Licorice sprawled tightly across the bridge
of your mouth; like venomous snakes,
that weave themselves into a basket of pity.
Sweet and bitter; it satisfies like no other.
You thought that as they rolled off your tongue
and left the slight curve of your lips,
these gumdrops would never come back.
But jaw breakers are good at deceiving too.
Almost as good as you.
Melted and carried away by your melodic strings of saliva,
you thought that they would not linger.
but a metallic tang whispers on your taste buds.
A reminder. Of what cotton candy used to be.

I hope all your teeth fall out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Place -  Matthew Young - Mississauga, ON

     Matthew Young loves to write poetry and began writing at the age of 13 when he realized that poetry was a very good outlet for his emotions. He learned to embrace his gift rather than see it as a burden. There was a time in his life where he did not want to write anymore (hence "Hidden Words") because every time he wrote, it would always remind him of the very first time poem he wrote, which brought him such sadness and hopelessness. However, one day, he turned his situation around and understood why he  has been blessed with the power to say so much with so little words: To cause others to feel these powerful emotions as well.

                 Winner 3 - Certificate + $  5.00 CAD

 Hidden Words

Heavy with emotion
No air holes or cracks
To let go of it
My words are jacked

Mind has no boundaries
Imagination flies free
Mischievous as they are
Too far for me to see

Dried up and squeezed
The juice from the lemon
Cool and limited
Vocabulary, I am famine

People are the vampires
And I the victim
So my words sucked out
My world becomes dim

Obese eyes want to close
Lose my grip and feeling
Of reality’s literature
Until my soul’s healing

Drop my pencil and paper
The art I have offend
So in present time
I will never write again
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (in no particular order)

Abandonment
Maira Hassan
Brampton, ON
 

Monsters
Kristi Kwan -
Markham, ON

Cracked Lips
Alice McClintock
Cobourg ON

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