my vOICE, MY Poem CONTEST

This year we have explored your stories, your ideas, and your voice. To celebrate poetry month we want you to continue that exploration through the form of poetry. Remember that the defining characteristic of poetry is that it says more and says it more intensely than ordinary languages and so challenge yourself to compress your language and expand your story.




Second Place:
Anthony Law (Primary)
Raymond Chen (Junior)
Samantha Pon (Intermediate)
Cyrenius Yuen (Senior)
Calvin Liu (Laureate)
First Place:
Ciara Li (Primary)
Miquel Fung (Junior)
Caitlin Lee (Intermediate)
Angel Zhao (Senior)
Wendy Wen (Laureate)
Third Place:
Renee Wu (Primary)
Elaine Zhu (Junior)
Nicole Gorzhiy (Intermediate)
Sofia Varma-Vitug (Senior)
Megan Tsoi (Laureate)
Honourable Mentions:Elisa Sui, Desmond Li, Emma Shen, Kai Yee Li, Amelia Chu, Riley Tam and Mason Chu.
Top Poems out of 100+ Entries:
Primary : Grade 1 - 3
I want to be a pilot,
Because I love to fly.
I once went to a flight simulator
at an amusement park.
It had lots of decimals and numbers
and buttons all over the place.
I took a simulated flight from Peru to France,
and it was just five or six minutes in the simulator,
because a real flight would take HOURS
and it projected the sky,
blue and yellowish.
To become a pilot,
learn to steer
very complicated
Use the lever,
power the engines.
Turn off the brakes,
Move the plane.
Taxiing.
Use the pedal
Use the column.
Push it downwards,
pull it upwards.
Use the Rudder
left or right
engage the Ailerons,
tilt the plane.
Flying is like…
Rushing through the clouds,
Gliding merrily like a bird,
Like lying on a platform that’s rushing through the air,
You feel like you’re dreaming
Fluffy clouds are like cars making way before you
like you’re driving an Ambulance.
The sun shines in your face, the sun’s so bright.
The birds chirping and flying is a wonderful sight.
Sweet candy on your plate,
Drinking your tea, with
The slightly bitter taste
My imaginary friends
And my real friends, looking
At me slightly pitifully
Because of the incident
That happened when I was six.
The time I had dinner
With my family and got thirsty
I looked at a very fancy teacup
It was like heaven, but
It turned out to have a very
Bitter taste, but not so bitter
Anymore.
Sweet candy on your plate,
Drinking your tea, with
The slightly bitter taste
Water, water, water, water
Someone give me a scare
Hic, hic, hic
It is so not fair
One night, two night, three nights
Is it even going to stop?
Hic, hic, hic
My eyes are going to pop!
On Sunday
I went to my friend’s birthday party at Clip and Climb.
I was so scared I couldn't do at least one of them!
Clip and Climb looks like a huge box
with different climbs on one side and another.
When we got there I saw my friends and classmates.
I was really nervous about which one to start with.
The Skyscraper was really colorful because at night
you can see people still working
with the lights on.
On the wall you can see led lights on the wall
so there were different colors everywhere.
On the Cheese
there were holes like cheese
and they had different vibrant colors.
I tried starting with a medium level one
it was called dots and stripes.
I hooked my harness in and started climbing.
It was a bit hard because
my legs couldn’t stretch to the other ledge.
I decided to do a different one.
I chose to do an easy one.
It looked like a pole
and it had footsteps in the middle and ledges on the side.
I was a bit confused about how to do it,
then one of the helpers gave me a tip,
he said to put your hands on the side
while climbing up with your feet.
I followed his steps
and I tried
and I did it !!:)
Thank you
dad for helping me
learn math
for jogging behind my bike
in case I
fall off
and helping our family
earn money
Thank you
mom for taking care of me
when I’m hurt
cooking food for us
helping me
with my
mandarin homework
Thank you
sister for playing LEGO with me
when I’m bored
telling jokes
and riddles to me
telling me
when my friends
are betraying me
Thank you
myself for letting me
use my gift
of art
use my gift
of communicating to animals
use my gift
of reading.
Junior : Grade 4 - 5
Because evolution makes life thrive
and adapt to new places. It can create
amazing things.
Without evolution, the world would not
exist. Evolution may not seem important,
but it makes a big difference in our
everyday lives.
I looked at a screen and saw right away,
how important the words were. It sent
information into my brain and gave me
memories to keep or let loose, what it was
telling me was the importance of evolution.
Because evolution is something captivating
and complicating, it would not be something
most people would understand.
Because evolution makes so much biodiversity,
all the things in nature are put to use. Forests
are like natural farmlands.
Because evolution is important to earth. It is
mesmerizing and astonishing to us.
In the night I heard a creak,
A fast running upon the floor.
Nothing more, but something bleak,
Then a squeaking, opening door.
A silence for many moments there,
But later, a quiet sound, I vow,
Not a sound, nor rustle of hair.
Not a pounce, but a single meow.
From rustled curtains comes a sound,
Everyday, like a chore
Between the bench, unannounced.
Scritch, scratch. Almost getting tore.
Scratching on the bed though, too,
Head tired, looking bored.
His bedtime always past overdue,
Leaning upon the footboard.
Jumping high, he runs downstairs,
A whisper, a screech, a quiet scream.
Not a trace, a single hair.
The meowing, meowing seeps into my dream.
Slower steps back to the top,
Not a thud, nor a single peep.
Back to the room, he comes to a stop,
Tip, tip, fall, fast asleep.
Watching
From the wings, I
Stand silent, heart pounding
The crowd cheers louder and louder
For me
Intermediate : Grade 6 - 7
it had arrived! finally, it had arrived!
i darted out, my parcel came in.
the tape was clear, yet wide and sticky.
the wrap was soft, but firm, and thick.
scissors dancing around the drenched, yellow edges,
a cut was made, and the book was free.
“crime and punishment”. classical literature.
i flipped through the papers, mesmerizingly so.
the font, i thought, was incredibly small.
the blocks, i saw, were scarily tall.
skipping to the end, the very last page,
604 sides. i can’t imagine how many words.
the first day was tiring, more than i’d thought.
i asked for this book, could i read the whole thing?
the sentences were lengthy, comma-filled pacing.
the paragraphs were more so; and with single line spacing!
placing my harp-formed bookmark between,
“it’s winter vacation, i have two whole weeks.”
then procrastination struck. reading felt hard.
i couldn’t find focus. each sound was a struggle.
the day was too full for me to take time.
the night was too late, it wasn’t my prime.
setting the novel back onto my desk,
each night i’d fall asleep, the guilt unsatisfactory.
but it all turned around! my lamp really helped!
i figured i’d read late, as nightfall would allow.
the position, still, was in no way pleasant.
the light was assisted by the sky’s shining crescent.
deciding on my own terms the beginning and end,
my progress and mood would steadily improve.
winter break was over. a school day took place.
i brought the book to silent reading. little did i know
the teacher in my room was a psychology major.
the novel in question was for the subject’s tenth graders.
taking it from my hands, he left, but came back??
what did he do with it? i may never know.
at last, by the close! page 604!
i remember it clearly. what a way to be done.
the conclusion of the book was better than i’d guessed.
the happiness i felt, at the time, was blessed.
seeing as it took me three weeks to end,
couldn’t i read faster? to the first page. again!
Babies cry,
Not aware of the walls they will have to face.
Growing up with only themselves,
And their parents,
In a sea of masks.
Not aware of the fact that some people they see,
Might be the last time the person glimpses the light of the sun.
Toddlers babble, argue, and play,
Not aware of the hardships they will face when developing.
Playdates happen less than usual.
Young adolescents,
Going through the most crucial parts of their lives,
Are swallowed in a sea of masks,
Even when they can still remember the smiles,
That were not smothered.
Teens,
Never getting the chance to celebrate the achievements they have accomplished.
Like graduation.
University students,
Trying to get degrees,
Try to contribute to society,
In a sea of masks.
All,
Being,
Lonely,
Sad,
Angry,
Confused,
Mad,
Bitter,
And bewildered.
Some are not able to cope with the stress.
Some are not able to cope with the madness.
Some are not able to cope with the sadness.
Some can’t cope with loneliness.
Some people succumb to the virus young,
Never seeing the light of the next day.
Children and adults never live normal lives.
“Hand sanitize!”
They say.
“Wash your hands!”
They say.
“Wear a mask!”
They say.
“Don’t touch your face!”
They say.
“Be safe!”
But they never say,
“Try to be happy and normal!”
Because no one can.
I no longer see happiness
as a prize to be won but
instead as a path to be
walked.
Rather than picturing
a gold medal waiting to be
handed to me as I soar
across a finished line,
I see mountain peaks and
valleys,
rolling hills and soft plains.
I see sun and breeze and
snow and rain
I see flourishing and growth
as seasons change,
I see great days
and bad days
and days somewhere in
between.
I see really big hard things
and I'm hopeful they don't
drown me.
I see really big good things
And small ones, too, all
around me.
I used to think I’d be happy
when I finally reached
some goal.
and I had this paralysing
fear that I’d make a wrong turn
and never quite feel
whole.
But I am right here
In the present
living a life that's full of beauty
and wonder and laughter
and tears and love
and I am so happy to be
here!
I silently watch
As the predators seek out their prey
They pelt him with sharp words that cut from inside
He waits for the storm to pass
As the predators seek out their prey
I want to speak but no words come
He waits for the storm to pass
Countless scars he has endured before
I want to speak but no words come
All animals are afraid of wolves
Countless scars he has endured before
His pains are victories to them
All animals are afraid of wolves
They pelt him with sharp words that cut from inside
His pains are victories to them
I silently watch
Senior : Grade 8 - 9
like an insomniac owl up a withered oak tree,
weathered eyes waver in dim oil-lamplight
arithmetic blurs and metamorphosed between bane and
insufferable longing,
more miserable longing than anything.
fingers would become one with graphite and lead,
but she kept still, lanky limbs tucked close to her abdomen,
torso contracted,
brows scrunched, lips pursed.
the oak tree shakes in toil;
it gives without rest.
as oil starts to dwindle dim
and spirits fall to a low,
a soft clicking echoes from the oak-hole;
pitying and a little fearful.
soft linen pleats would brush with abashed softness
across the desolate floors.
Her weathered hands would set down
a steaming bowl of rice,
pig’s oil.
the waft of homesickness warming
the eroding bark, softening its coarse exterior,
tenderizing the smooth interior.
she knew to do nothing else,
that woman,
she was never taught affection,
that woman,
she seldom knew what love meant,
that woman.
What does it feel like to be a Chinese in Canada?
Our classmates always fancy sitting close to us in class
And ask us how to find the hydrogen atomic mass
Using us as a practical way to get them a pass
As they think all Chinese are math and science experts, alas!
Our school counselors always pay us special attention
And caution us to relax with a weekly conversation
Criticizing our parents for creating the tension
As they think all Chinese prize homework a great invention
Our boyfriends always insist to be our protective guy
And convince us to learn the meaning of the word “defy”
Reminding us the importance of always asking “why”
As they think all Chinese are hopelessly quiet and shy
Our friends always invite us to a food celebration
And inquire us about some bizarre meal preparation
Discussing dog abuse based on their imagination
As they think all Chinese come from a barbarous nation
The salespeople at Holt Renfrew are always very nice
And offer us water or even champagne served with ice
Giving us trend reports and their professional advice
As they think all Chinese buy things without checking the price
The diners always look at us like we are a big name
And wonder why we have to shout like watching a ballgame
Staring and frowning at us, trying to make us feel shame
As they think all Chinese speak loud because we are not tame
The commuters always leave us along with our own space
And never chat with us on buses and trains face to face
Trusting us that there must be some health issues among our race
As they think all Chinese carry germs that are hard to trace
The government officials always serve us with respect
And explain slowly to us so everything is correct
Beliving that we can only speak our own dialect
As they think all Chinese pronounce “thank you” with a defect
The Canadians always welcome us as a new friend
And talk about Chinese culture with us every weekend
Claiming that all our ridiculous beliefs should be mend
As they think all Chinese are inferior in the end
This is how I feel like being a Chinese in Canada.
Keen eyes watching, every move a thief makes weak
talons sharp as a knife, palm open, feeling ablaze softening their skin
in the reflection of the beak strikes a gold streak.
Possessions so priceless, royalty would grin
guarded for centuries, and even more centuries to come,
protector of all that glitters among the green lining trees,
not a friend nor foe, here for serenity for some
awakening in the forests of ease,
beware danger is all around but of long distance
to fill ones’ belly, must venture near a river,
only to eat the finest of all existence.
Seeking through the woods a free mind for once deliver,
beware the mind said, behind you, all around, inferno
the griffin, lost forever in the brimstone, mind said I told you so.
What began as streaks of light in the sky,
Ended in screams echoing throughout,
And showers of destruction and death.
But as the dust settled,
Nature was an angry blaze.
A roaring fire spreading
And engulfing our creations.
Erasing all traces of humans
Finally retaking its rightful place
Earth once again, burned in a beautiful flame of nature.
The sun shined brightly across the lands,
And the rain gave life to billions.
Flowers bloomed and exploded with colours,
The trees arms’ grew and bore fruits proudly,
Vegetable plants erupted from the earth,
And the waves moved with the rhythm, as the wind whistled.
In just a blink,
The world reset and changed forever,
And mother nature carried on without us.
Laureate : Grade 10 - 12
The first time I witnessed cherry blossoms reflecting moonlight was the first March after I moved in
During day, visitors crowded the streets like mayflies
2 A.M. and not yet summer
My head was tucked inside the covers as I tried to recover the type of heat that surrounded the body but did not invade the skin, a heat that marked the majority of my childhood
Perhaps that would have driven me to sleep but some night drivers interrupted my efforts
It had recently rained, as I heard the sound of their car motors, I remembered peeking out a triangle of my curtain to the sidewalk lit by a few amber streetlights
Only bright enough to pair facts with imagined details
Moonlight fractured into marquis diamonds that adorned the cavities of the otherwise lonely gravel street,
where blossom petals chose to reside for the evening
I pictured tires’ imprinting small scars on the blossom petals that had been weighed down by rain
A soft swat knocks a glass
Upon hardwood, carefully spilling, displaying
Its crystalline contents and shattering
Liquid glass, spilling shards. Individual fragmented
Stars nebulate as
Diamonds come to litter a vast
Floor.
But there was no glazed glass resting on the floor. There
Were no spilling mirrors, reflecting the gaze of guilty souls, no
diamonds nor “Shattered crystalline contents.” Yet, they, the reflections
Remain, holding the empty entrancement of a hollow being, who
Does not hear music
Nor see fragmented stars.
Some say glass could not be helped
From being fragmented. “From life to death, the purpose of
existence is to learn to cope with an indefinite,
meaningless existence without ends."" they say. Animals
Exist to be consumed! Laws are created to be broken!
And the fragile, let even unbending wills be broken as well!
Or so they say.
Still, in an honest harkened heart, there exists the thought that
What is fragmented can be fixed, and what is
Capsized can be collected,
What is lost can be found. Glass comes to exist for an eternity,
Mirroring the expressions of passersby, who
Never fail to turn away at the sight of hollow eyes
Gorged with sadness?
The unbroken hollow mind set itself, mending fragmented
Stars, unspilling crystalline content, casting shards to a place
Where all the other broken beings wait at the end of their
Lives. Only a single silver slimmer remains
To tell the tale of one mistaken husk
Who softly knocked a glass.
White privilege.
Such a strange concept is it not?
But it is no stranger.
It is familiar.
It is something we learned to live with.
We learned
We learned to fit your definition of normalcy
Learned your language
Learned your holidays
Learned your customs
Learned your cuisine
Learned your dress
Learned your media
Learned to appeal to your everything.
You learned our nothing. Saw us as expendable, exploitable.
White privilege.
What is white privilege?
It is many things.
It is being told that we don’t speak the right language
It is being told our faces aren't what society wants to see
It is being told that we should go back
It is being told “wow your English is really good!” when we grew up here
It is people thinking we are all the same
It is overhearing “they’re going to make us all sick”,
while I wait at a Big White ski lift
It is being helped after the white person even though you were there first,
while at the self-check out in Safeway
It is spending ¾ of the school year studying European history, ¼ Ottoman Empire, and skipping the Asia Unit because it isn’t important according to a late-middle aged white male
while sitting in a Grade 8 socials studies class
It is being unable to take back or even get to know the traditions or culture or history of my family,
Having to use Google to learn about holidays I don’t even know I don’t know.
That is white privilege.
White privilege is expecting us to fit your normal.
White privilege is taking our food, our dress, fitting it your people’s desires and marketing it
selling it
without acknowledgement
without a second thought.
My young ears were taught the strange comments about “people like me” you made were normal.
I learned that you were the desired look and that I did not fit that.
I learned to draw you
instead of me.
It was all so ingrained that I learned that you are the definition
of beauty.
That is white privilege.
It is a Sunday,
And much work is due,
A math test is coming,
And a presentation too.
It is 3 pm now,
Many hours to spare,
Perhaps I could relax,
To mentally prepare.
It is 6 pm now,
Much time still remain,
Perhaps after dinner,
Before using my brain.
It is 9 pm now,
Little time is left,
And yet I still neglect,
The massive workload heft.
It is 12 am now,
The due dates draw near,
I shall not sleep tonight,
It would appear.
It is 3 am now,
All feeling is numb,
Stress is kicking in,
And my head beats like a drum.
I speed through the work,
Putting no effort at all
I just want to finish,
and sleep on the wall
It is 6 am now,
I’m basically dead,
My willpower is broken,
And I feel nothing but dread.
After some time
The work is complete,
My body is fatigued,
And to my bed I retreat.
In bed I slumber,
The feeling is nice;
The blanket is warm
And 2 hours should suffice.
At 8 I awake,
My body on the floor,
My shoulders are aching,
And my back is sore.
To school I arrive,
And hand in what I’ve got,
My work is trash,
But give a damn, I do not.
At my desk, I sit with weakness,
Something that I do too often,
My friends notice and they know,
That I have not slept once again.
I make a promise to myself,
One that I never keep:
“You must never again skip
That wonderful thing called sleep.”
Good Manners don’t act rudely.
Eat with a fork.
Don’t be a dork
change your clothing.
do your homework.
Do not act dumb.
say, “Thank you.”
say, “Please.”
Say, “I’m sorry.”
It’s never better to tease.
You remember
To do what I say,
You’ll have friends
When you call them to play with you!