Columbia Granger's World of Poetry®
2024 Student Poetry Contest Winners
WINNING POEMS
“Psalm for Plastic Jesus”
inspired by “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong
The strongest prayers are made of bodies
moaned open like a wound. Even now,
like old earth, cathedral ribs are broken
by constant warring. Sun-burned fields torn
by bullets strip soldiers down to white flags,
so the doves are in flight. Say my sanctuaries
are pregnant with bombs carried in by families,
and bullets air out unprayers gasped open by hands.
High above is a god we both surrender to, and mine
is full of stars. I admit, I am guilty. I barely believed
until I needed to. The last time, I believed until
I smelled smoke, and plastic was made alive.
And you, before this blood, you were killing it
in salvation—mistaking thorns for crowns,
poppies to be roses. There were hymns
in the dirt when you wanted to look for them;
untouched gunmetal and faith in the bodies
dropped by planes. Say it never hurt anyone.
Say I am not dipped in blood and fire-shaped.
This is truth. Lives and burnings for a thumbprint’s
worth of ash. Chin up, palms together, the pews
were on fire, and you wanted the water to be holy.
----------------
“Burnt Out”
by Jenna Xue, Upper Merion Area High School
Like a teardrop of wax, trickling down a candle’s side
Her viscosity ephemeral, her scent sweet and fleeting
Slow and steady, pained and dying
But she’s determined
She thinks she can escape
She believes she can leap from the candle’s shoulder
She wonders if she could fly if she tried
She dreams of freedom
But the merciless, cold air halts her fleeing
Seizes her
Captures her
Shackles her
She hardens, a dry, lonely husk
Many other teardrops have tried
All have dried
All have died
Like a candle, burned to a melted, unwanted shell
So empty that it cannot cry anymore
And when the tears stop
The flame goes out
Burnout
----------------
“Tessellations”
by Prishaa Shrimali, Marymount School of New York
inspired by “Lost Jewels” by Megha Rao
Surveyors note how I whirl and twirl in ways only reasoned by the mind
as I pervasively inhabit every realm of esse.
Most spirits occupy a single plane of existence, yet I transcend
mere computations and meaningless patterns
to create something deserving of your awe.
I glide with the gusts in this dividing dance
where I am more than the sum of my parts —
Thus why I can be viewed as separate entities or pieced together like a puzzle
and still hold the mystery of zero while I connect
mountains with rivers and minds with skies.
I am desired for my intricacies in a way similar to sandalwood and fine silk and then
exported by the same wind I flew in on.
Like tea poured from a pot, I can tangibly fill a container,
yet, in excitement, invisibly bubble up and out. Many times
I am the container.
The potter remarks on how I can form the base or the cover
of artistic and logical design. Precise hands spin around my sides
as my patterns spring from the potter’s mind.
Even Ramanujan abandons his side quests and exalts me,
for I am shapes intertwining in the Bharatanatyam of creation. Shapes constructing time
and standing its test. Shapes with movements sharper than in Kathak.
Shapes defined yet as fluid as the Ganges. Shapes that
calculate in order to tessellate a saffron crate —
Aiding the curious, wrapped in shawls, in inhaling my incense
and allowing the nonsense to make sense
if one looks through a different-shaped lens.
I scream and whisper, “Congratulations!”
from the top of the Taj Mahal. A reward for your inquiry
of my illusions and straightforwardness, I will take you to a higher dimension
whose facilitation is overtaken by me — Tessellations.
----------------
HONORABLE MENTION
"A River of Words"
by Hannah Yang, Marymount School of New York
inspired by "Alien Waters" by Louise Chandler Moulton
The waters speak the truth.
If rivers sustain life,
language is the ocean that all rivers eventually flow to.
as words drift off into the ears of another river,
waves crash down to the shore,
filling the moats with water,
protecting the children laughing inside the sandcastle.
When ink spills into the sea,
sand weathers it away.
the grains of gold
lying beneath the earth’s eternal gleam
carry memories of footprints long ago
and stories within hand’s reach.
As rivers merge and language finds its course,
the melody of the water
bears the weight of stories, joys, and tears
of countless years under the endless starry night.
Though rivers may fall and words may be lost,
their shadows echo secrets from generations
of grief, loss, misery, and hatred.
Amidst the clamor and the noise,
voices cry,
“Who am I?”
a question forever unanswered,
a haunting voice.
In a river’s current, I swim for the key
to unlock the truth of what I’m meant to be.
by Jenna Xue, Upper Merion Area High School
Like a teardrop of wax, trickling down a candle’s side
Her viscosity ephemeral, her scent sweet and fleeting
Slow and steady, pained and dying
But she’s determined
She thinks she can escape
She believes she can leap from the candle’s shoulder
She wonders if she could fly if she tried
She dreams of freedom
But the merciless, cold air halts her fleeing
Seizes her
Captures her
Shackles her
She hardens, a dry, lonely husk
Many other teardrops have tried
All have dried
All have died
Like a candle, burned to a melted, unwanted shell
So empty that it cannot cry anymore
And when the tears stop
The flame goes out
Burnout
----------------
“Tessellations”
by Prishaa Shrimali, Marymount School of New York
inspired by “Lost Jewels” by Megha Rao
Surveyors note how I whirl and twirl in ways only reasoned by the mind
as I pervasively inhabit every realm of esse.
Most spirits occupy a single plane of existence, yet I transcend
mere computations and meaningless patterns
to create something deserving of your awe.
I glide with the gusts in this dividing dance
where I am more than the sum of my parts —
Thus why I can be viewed as separate entities or pieced together like a puzzle
and still hold the mystery of zero while I connect
mountains with rivers and minds with skies.
I am desired for my intricacies in a way similar to sandalwood and fine silk and then
exported by the same wind I flew in on.
Like tea poured from a pot, I can tangibly fill a container,
yet, in excitement, invisibly bubble up and out. Many times
I am the container.
The potter remarks on how I can form the base or the cover
of artistic and logical design. Precise hands spin around my sides
as my patterns spring from the potter’s mind.
Even Ramanujan abandons his side quests and exalts me,
for I am shapes intertwining in the Bharatanatyam of creation. Shapes constructing time
and standing its test. Shapes with movements sharper than in Kathak.
Shapes defined yet as fluid as the Ganges. Shapes that
calculate in order to tessellate a saffron crate —
Aiding the curious, wrapped in shawls, in inhaling my incense
and allowing the nonsense to make sense
if one looks through a different-shaped lens.
I scream and whisper, “Congratulations!”
from the top of the Taj Mahal. A reward for your inquiry
of my illusions and straightforwardness, I will take you to a higher dimension
whose facilitation is overtaken by me — Tessellations.
----------------
HONORABLE MENTION
"A River of Words"
by Hannah Yang, Marymount School of New York
inspired by "Alien Waters" by Louise Chandler Moulton
The waters speak the truth.
If rivers sustain life,
language is the ocean that all rivers eventually flow to.
as words drift off into the ears of another river,
waves crash down to the shore,
filling the moats with water,
protecting the children laughing inside the sandcastle.
When ink spills into the sea,
sand weathers it away.
the grains of gold
lying beneath the earth’s eternal gleam
carry memories of footprints long ago
and stories within hand’s reach.
As rivers merge and language finds its course,
the melody of the water
bears the weight of stories, joys, and tears
of countless years under the endless starry night.
Though rivers may fall and words may be lost,
their shadows echo secrets from generations
of grief, loss, misery, and hatred.
Amidst the clamor and the noise,
voices cry,
“Who am I?”
a question forever unanswered,
a haunting voice.
In a river’s current, I swim for the key
to unlock the truth of what I’m meant to be.
