 Good afternoon, my name is Mary Ann James, and I'm the Associate Superintendent for the County Office of Education And I'd like to welcome all of you here to the 21st annual high school poetry competition My boss Michael Watkins the county superintendent of schools is very sorry that he can't be here He's actually driving just about as fast as he can from Sacramento to get here So we might see him flying in the backdoor But what he wants to make sure that I relate to all of you is his gratitude To poetry Santa Cruz to the teachers of Santa Cruz County, especially English teachers, particularly this evening and especially the students In the field that I work in with K-12 schools and K-12 educators We focus a lot on those 21st century skills collaboration creativity Critical thinking and communication and clearly the students that are here tonight show all of those skills We're thrilled with their creativity and the words that they have to say and I I just get tickled every time I get an opportunity to hear students Speak their voice and as adults our job is to listen very carefully so the other job that I get to do tonight on behalf of Michael is to Say thank you to a number of our teachers in the county who worked with students and it says specifically gratitude to teachers who taught or and or encouraged the submission of poems to This competition so these are either your poetry teachers your English teachers your mentors your collaborator sometimes your inspirations But always your heroes, so I'm going to name them miss Joanne Brown. Mr. Peter douche Miss Karen Frazier miss Teresa Johansson miss Arlene Sandy and all of them teach at the alternative family education Miss Melissa Silver and miss Danielle Zaragoza at Aptos High School And I should apologize ahead time if I mess up their names miss Margie illett from the ARC independent studies Dr. Kawayana Robb at Georgiana Bruce Kirby prep school Miss Margo Kipps miss Marina Martin and miss Rogers at Harvard High School Miss Amy Deming and Pastor Danielle Gregory at Monterey Bay Academy Mr. Laramate Haas qual Mrs. Rigby and mr. Marcus Swagger at Monavista Christian School I'm sorry about the names Miss Melissa Sanders self at Mount Madonna school Mr. James Lucas at Pajaro Valley High School miss Tiffany Darrow at San Lorenzo Valley High School miss Catherine Catherine Frankie at Santa Cruz High School miss and Brooke Freeman and miss Anita Long at Scots Valley High School miss Kandu miss Dawson miss Robin Miranda and miss Diane O'Reilly at Soquel High School Miss Jennifer Isant and miss Elizabeth Shaw at Starr Community School Mr. Dennis Martin and the teachers for the classes where he gives poetry writing workshops miss Bonnie Danker at Robin A. Hartman School Miss Jen Isant Gonzalez at Natural Bridges School miss Jessica Vargas at Yes School miss Stephanie Spungen at the Camp Recovery Center and miss Laura Holm at Starr Academy Many of them are here this evening. I'd like to give them a round of applause And now it is my pleasure to introduce Dennis Morton who will introduce the students and facilitate their reading tonight. Thank you First I want to thank all of you for being here. It means a lot to the participants to to see that people care and so thank you all for being here in attendance and Thanks for all of the to all of the teachers and Tom McCoy and Len Anderson have basically Created this evening and there is Tom right there and there is Len Anderson Len put all of these notes together and I want to apologize at a time for any mispronunciations Any many I'll say many mispronunciations that I'm guaranteed to make during the evening I Have to say that I don't know whether Michael will show up or not, but Michael Watkins is an amazing friend of the arts. I I Don't know a school administrator who has understands how important the arts are to children Like Michael he's truly truly amazing and I want to give a big round of applause to Michael Watkins Okay, so Let's see what Len has got here for me to say first. Oh, yeah, I want to thank the judges is Susan Freeman here There are three judges for the the poems that are in this wonderful anthology Susan you are not here But thank you is Patricia is alias here There she is. Would you stand up? She's not just a good judge of poetry, but she's a very fine poet and Andrew Fagg, I know you are here. Where are you? Have I mispronounced your name Andrew? Fagg Andrew Fagg So what's really cool is that our three judges have no idea who wrote the poems? They have a stack of I think there were 360 poems submitted this year and they have to go through each one they have no idea who wrote them and collectively they narrow it down to 50 51 poems which end up in this anthology and Then they have to do the delicate task of Saying okay, I think maybe this one deserves a An honorable mention or a one of the first three prizes, etc. And it's grueling work I did it once myself, and I know how hard and difficult it is, but Thank you very much to the judges All right, let's see. What do I have to say here now? Well, have I thanked the poets? I am thanking all of the poets without the poets no poem. No, no no gig here tonight. Okay The most important part of this is That students learn to connect with that thing that's deep inside all of us. That's creative little creative zone that you could you go most of your life without having it opened up and if if the circumstances aren't right and The teachers and Michael Watkins have been instrumental in helping to open up this creative spark that is in all of us and That's the most important thing not not even that your poem gets into the anthology All right We've got all kinds of information on the table somewhere in the back about how you can get more deeply involved in the local Poetry community if you'd like Poetry Santa Cruz is the kind of the official Sponsor of this event aside from the County Office of Education and And You can find out how to get involved in in our events. We have monthly readings Usually at bookshop Santa Cruz on the second Tuesday, and we have once a month in the main library in Santa Cruz There's an open reading. There's a featured reader and then an opportunity for all of you to read your poems and There is the flurry canto reading at Cabrillo every year and And And and and and and okay, I've thanked Michael have I thanked Marianne James who introduced me. Thank you Marianne wherever you are There she is okay and Melanie Martin, I don't know if Melanie is here, but Melanie is an assistant to Michael and you know how that goes about the work of 20 people gets done by special assistants like that One person does the work of 20 all right Alternative ed classroom teachers. Thank you very very very much. I work in for I lead poetry workshops myself in four of these Alternative ed classrooms, and they're wonderful. They're amazing, you know, they're like they're like one room school houses and The special camaraderie camaraderie grows up among the students and the teachers Want to thank members donors and supporters of Boatry Santa Cruz. I've thanked our judges project assistants from Barbara Bloom Elka mouse Ellen McCarthy and Joni Morrow The anthology title comes from the poem the cherry tree by Evan Bauer and Evan Bauer is here tonight. I hope Okay, okay front cover art The anthology is a black and white reproduction of the pen and ink drawing a gift by Melissa Melissa are you here? C-h-a-r-g-i-n Charging charging Charging okay, Melissa Chargan piece of art. Where am I? back cover Tuesday morning, and are you here Renee? Wendy, uh, there she is. All right, stand up Stand up gorgeous Now this is a photograph of oh my god, my memory is failing me yes, yes Miss O'Keefe the great artist and This is here because it it's what inspired the I think the first-place poem so when you get a chance take a look at these and Now we're almost to the poems Well, I want to thank the Santa Cruz art league because they have this I think the 59th year that they have put on the annual high school art show and Doreen Davis of the art league has helped with this and Now for the reading. Yes, okay We're ready so we're going to start with the honorable mention poems then we will go to the Prize winners the three prize winners third second and first and We have one two three four five six seven Now this is really handy because Len has put a check mark here so that I know who is actually here Evan Bauer is here. Will you come up Evan and read your poem? All right Yeah This is titled he was only four miles lies on the cold floor pause off to one side Chestnut fur no longer shimmering eyes filled with submission and the primordial understanding of what is to pass. I Don't want to understand How dare you reach down with your greedy grubby mits to steal my loving companion Heaven must be in dire shape to recruit such souls But it wasn't enough to just grab him was it you had to test him to ravage his body to see if his spirit stayed true Well, it did for six torturous months If this is how you run admissions don't bother sending me an invite And This is titled the cherry tree I Believe the cherry tree stays beautiful year-round The intense allure the rapture of the blossoms may appear to holy subside after spring But the tree remains alive subtly beautiful Bear slender branches intertwine like lovers hands embracing against winter's ice and Blossoms of euphoric passion always promise to adorn its branches next spring But I'm only 18. What do I know of love's turbulent cycle for me? It's still June Okay, how is this can you hear me? Okay, mr. Jagger, okay Jagger mr. Jagger I've heard that name Jagger Say I want you to know that the the title of the anthology Comes from Evan's poem. What do I know of love's turbulent cycle? So another round there okay, so next up actually Len you didn't tell me whether I ought to read in the absence of the poets who are not here whether I should read their poems No Yes, is that Amber Callison who received an honorable mention for her poem winter apparently is not here because there's not a check marker You're not here. Are you? All right, we'll keep on going Yeah, June Hong All right for putting egg yolk under your pillow, I know it smells bad I didn't have time to turn the page God All right, so Cece Marino Is also an honorable mention for her poem the look but she apparently is not here But you may read her poem in the anthology Tobias Miller honorable mention for his poem swell and it's on page 16 if you have the anthology Thank you guys for coming and watching it perform My poem is swell big Coldening peaking and unsure drops in Whistling far and close and the e-line Tristan compiling over the face Philip in the web or Bolshean When in the tube it's quiet old locals whistle far and we and Nemo and drew come from paddling From skating and waiting. It's winter the great swell hits like jaw Long and milk. Thank you, sir All right continuing on with our honorable mentions Daniel Peterson Honorable mention for his poem the master and it's on page 17 Nestled between two trees on the lovely lithic coast of Long Island stands a house made of wood paint cans cigarettes wine glasses canvas smoke spit Passion live in the home The master contemplates his tools colors the entropy of the room a Cigarette burns carelessly in the corner of his mouth while Johnny Cash laments Methodically he throws red paint over the naked canvas This home contains a chaos illuminated by bleached white lights that pummel the darkness of night and offer solitude to the master Out of a red and white straw. He sprays blue paint over the red snakes on the canvas Perpetuating the frenzy a red balloon filled with yellow paint is tacked to the canvas waiting for the impending pop The white lights cast delirious shadows that dance with every shake of the body or gust of frosty New York air He takes one final drag right before the filter before extinguishing it in the middle of the campus All right, and the final of the honorable mentions is Jennifer Paulini For her poem Bobby and oh and so she has two on page 18 and 51 And she's a student at San Lorenzo Valley High and Mrs. Darrow is her teacher Thank you. This is good Bobby. This was inspired by one of the students in my elementary class that I am a TA for Bobby You stared in my eyes like rolled all said you ought to to make sure I wasn't a witch You believed in the fairy tales that they all taught you you don't seem to care that the other kids don't talk to you You like to read a lot, don't you you tune out the world and dive into a book You ask to sit alone because you scare the other kids you talk to yourself, and you like to lie on the floor The substitute had told the story of his brother who was born with only one eye His brother got teased and he felt like an outcast. His bullies were very mean Well, the substitute asked the class what to do about the bullies all of the kids said the same exact thing Stand up to the bullies tell an adult But you in the corner For the first time in a long time or compelled to raise your hand and give a creative answer Your brother could get himself a glass eye if he wasn't missing an eye. He could fit in The sub said good answer and I smiled the sub and I locked eyes and then I looked at you. I Wonder if you feel like you're missing an eye Bobby I assure you you are the best in the class though when I would save if we were all drowning You are more than anyone gives you credit for and this is my second poem titled soap It's amazing how one sentence so insignificant can stick with you for years Ten years ago. My close friend told me that when you shower you should wash yourself with soap first and Now ten years later here. I am having just gotten into the stream of water reaching for the soap. I Wonder if a statement so trivial has stayed with me after all this time in the back of my brain What else has? Do I still hear every time he said he loved me echoing through my mind's crevices shouting at me? He doesn't anymore not anymore Or what about every time someone called me stupid or so that my shirt was hideous or told me that I couldn't play because I was too good at watching Are those remarks still back there? gnawing at the ends of my brain Telling me that I'm not good enough That the music I listen to isn't hip enough that the movies I watch are dumb and a waste of my time. I Know that they're there in my subconscious because every night I step into the shower I reach for the soap bar without even meaning to alrighty now we are going to hear the prize winners the third second and first prize winner our Third prize winner is Emma Luke and her poem is entitled Magnificence and it's on page 11. She's a student at Harbor High School and Ms. Julie Rogers is her teacher. She will actually get some moolah for this. Oh, there you are Magnificence My favorite flower is a rose But how do you tell a rose of its beauty red like blood Thorns like swords when she wilts and tells you that she's now as tall as a sunflower How do you show the waves their grace? They're swell like a pulse that curl the dance when they throw themselves at the rocky shores Screaming that they're not light like the clouds How do you tell the mountain of her power her cliffs proud like a queen her edges sharp to rule When instead she cours and reminds herself that she'll never be soft like the stream How do you show the rain her lullaby the thumping beats her gentle care When all she hears in herself said she's never as soft as the snow How can you see your magnificence your beauty your grace your power when all you look for in yourself is what you see in others? Right No Our second prize winner is Phoebe Delot The Lottie Delot. Oh, yeah. Oh cool. Uh and her poem is unraveled. She's gonna get 50 bucks And it's on page 10 Unraveled She is the book that never gets read The drawer that never gets opened The painting that never gets hung The snow that never melts the leaves that never turns The fruit that never ripens never falls How can you close a door that's already shut or open a heart when it has a mind of its own a Firm if left alone will unfurl a Single loose thread when tugged unravels what would I be mistaken in assuming that your grandmother is Diana Hartog Diana Hartog is an absolutely wonderful poet and Like Grandmother like granddaughter I do right a Little all you do, huh? Okay Now we have come to our first prize winner and her poem is Georgia O'Keeffe a bequey Abacue. Whoa. All right, Georgia O'Keeffe Abacue, New Mexico 1948 There is a photograph of Georgia O'Keeffe She's at Mount Madonna school. Ms. Mrs. Sanders self is her teacher and Julia is going to get a hundred bucks And her poem is on page eight Georgia O'Keeffe a bequey, New Mexico 1948 photograph by Philly Palsman Can you hear I'm having a hard time right here. Sorry She sits on the cracked and crumbling paving stone under the overcast and brilliantly white, New Mexico sky She sits with what remains of a noble being the bison that roamed the Great Plains as she does the desert Painting what she sees and feels She wears a black hat and coat and a white shirt and headscarf strange for a woman so known for her colors Crimson familian indigo Ivory white and the breezes are filled with coyote bush and white sage Her eyes seeing the world full of beauty in its decay Her wrinkles convey her age as if all she saw and painted slowly became a part of her The mountains and valleys the land carved out by rivers for thousands of years You can feel it in the land. It is old ancient Yet its vibrancy comes from its death. Oh look at this the mula is about to be Oh boy Okay now At this point the uh, the poets you will hear will appear alphabetically by last name And the the first poet that we will oh no check mark. Pedro Aguirre is not Right is there someone who wants to read his poem all right now Oh Okay, there's a poem I i'm quite familiar with this. This is a poem by Anonymous and the reason for that is that this was written by a student at juvenile hall And his name must remain anonymous, but I will read it For him as I was the person present and When he wrote it, uh, let's see Where is it? Gotta scrape gotta scrape. Oh, I've got it. Okay. Yeah, I'll just read it out of here. That's a good idea Yeah, they're all in here God all right All right The name of the poem is gotta scrape No food at my place No food on the plate Pops been away Moms gotta scrape The water's been cold Bills can't get paid Debt's stacking up Only thing growing is hate But I'll never be ashamed Only 15 when I became a man Learned the dope game Tried to get what I could Out on the streets. I wasn't playing pac-man Praying for better days with a rosary in my hand Everyone's story is the same on my turf We all like brothers Mom's always at work We're picking change from the dirt Saying R.I.P To friends in the church All right now on page 30 you will find A poem entitled to God and Miranda Beasley is the poet And Miss Page it says okay All right, it's on page what? 22 all right Like I was saying it's on page 22 Miranda Beasley, are you here? There you are We apologize for the inconvenience, but it appears that there's no poem on this page There could be a poem somewhere here You can imagine a poem if that gives your life more meaning You can write a whole book on the poem that may or may not be here You can worship it live for the magnificence that is this poem But whatever you do Please do not force the idea of this poem upon others Because you do not know if there's actually a poem here Have your opinion we have ours And in our humble opinion There is no poem on this page. Thank you. Have a nice day I I there's no poem on this page I neglected to say that uh the um The anonymous poet, uh, Bonnie dankert is the classroom teacher at artman's school. So thanks to Bonnie dankert All right, now we're going to uh, no Riannan Bloss is not here Adriana Brock is not here And if there is someone who knows these poets and would like to read the poem, please do speak up Yes, come on up One poem by each Brock To Brock's Okay, um, I'm marielena cavagiero I'm I can't take credit for these beautiful poems um, I will read By the numbers on page 25 by Adriana Brock By the numbers She told me as we studied for calculus her fingers tapping the hardwood kitchen table While a eight marshmallows out of the bag She was wearing pink I know because I remember how her skin tone looks with pink Like a flower on soil Dusted disconnected dry 50 she said for two marshmallows. It's hard to forget. She said 185 one slice of bread 17 three pieces of apple And the math she was doing was foreign to me devoid of integrals and absolute sums I'd known girls like her Known in the sense that I had touched them held them Picked up the phone I'd taken them to teachers and therapists sat with them Promised they would be okay And some of them were I couldn't imagine what it would be like to live that way broken-sighted To always be looking looking again in the mirror Stepping again on the scale Stepping looking again again Hungry Hungry so hungry but afraid to eat People ask would you rather die a slow painful death? Or watch someone you loved die the same way? I say I would prefer either to waking up one day Finding that someone dead or dying breaths away And knowing I missed the signs I should have seen should have thought should have asked But she's sick and I didn't even see her cough When I told my therapist about my friend She asked me to let her know when my friend got out of the hospital I said She's not in the hospital I know she said not yet On page 29 A drunken stargaze is a poem by another Kirby student called Eleanor Brock A drunken stargaze I am the shards on the sidewalk the glittering glass Broken pieces of coke and beer bottles that whisper under the street lights The stars of the black city in the middle of the night I hope I was shaken hard That I bubbled before the lovers stumbled spewing rolls of sweet drunken laughter held shaky hands and slammed me against their fathers who disapprove against the coarse concrete Crushed me under their converse all-star sneakers ripping another hole in their denim hams I come after the clattering of tin tops and the jingling of keys Pocket knives that they gave you at Boy Scout camp are used now In a dark alley behind the gym to lever me and open what you stole from the back of the fridge I was forged from hot air breath and fire In a big brick room in minnesota Where they strung me out blew and curved me into myself Now I am left in the cracks to cut the toes of foolish wanderers right, uh, oh Didn't uh, didn't she have two poems? All right, okay Okay, all right Molly brown whose Teacher is miss rogers at harbour high school has a poem on page 30 called determination, but I don't see a check So I don't know if molly is here Anyone who knows molly and would like to read her poem all right We then go to Matthew Campbell No check mark on Matthew. I happen to know Matthew He's a student of jessica vargas and uh, I worked with matthew. I will read his poem It's called who and it is on page 32 Sorry, I forgot to bring this up A basket full of grief A bowl filled with sorrow I'm a slave to depression Who lives at the bottom of these scars? I can indeed Emma burns Ark independent, uh Are you here? Oh Okay, oh, I'm so sorry You hear me Uh, my poem was called my generation And uh, does anybody ever think to think about these ridiculous decision about our hashtag blacked out jacked up society's system We're also caught up with our instagrams and our likes no one's confronting problems because we have facebook fights You don't even have to leave your room because you got 15 likes on the picture of your food So keep on bragging about your followers and all the likes. Just tell me how that'll help you amount to anything in life Sorry that I skipped you there. I didn't intend to all right the next poet Apparently is also not here noa chambers stress on page 33 is Noa here. All right, then uh, moving on Douglas chambliss A student of miss darrow at san lorenzo high school. His poem is entitled Unicode unison it's on page 34 Douglas Ah, there you are sir Okay, this is called unicode unison How long can you bear flirting with the apathetic letters in front of you? Personal connection and closeness measured by message count dictated by character limit No, good morning and no good night create two far away strangers smiley face and winky face and kissy face 20 by 20 jpeg resolution Give you jittery moss in the brain Two screens between two lovers don't bridge the distance. Don't keep you together Pull the coal metallic curtain How long can you bear? The synthetic heart that tells you that you feel when you don't okay Nice job Kara claney on page 35 has a poem my reflection Miss rogers is her teacher at harbor high, but I don't see a check mark. Kara. Are you here? Is anyone here who would like to read her poem? All right Next up is jiana Diaz a student of miss. Amy deming at monterey bay academy Her poem is called the fog and it's on page 36 jenna. You are here somewhere. Ah, there you are Walking down the class the blurs of students hidden in the gray clouds No light is here. The sun is non-existent One person in particular stands out dressed to impress as I walk more. I know it is a he coming towards me He is in a suit both high and shiny shoes His face is something different eyes meet mine I simply smile walk past him leaving leaving him with the mystery of me Thank you. All right Um Alexandra far I believe is not here. Her poem is fix it on page 37 anyone care to read Alexandra far's poem in her place moving on to uh tom All right, joni come on up joni Joni is one of the organizers of this event. Let's give her a hand for that I apologize for can everyone hear me? Yeah, I apologize for Alexandra if she didn't want this read, but um From someone that knows exactly what she's talking about sometimes You need someone else to um To do it for you because you can't do it for yourself. So I want to do that for her Um, it's called fix it your bony fingers grasp at my skin pulling and pulling until nothing is left They reach down my throat and rid me of my dreams and hopes and dress sizes Your musseless hands run down my sides down my hips my thighs my insecurities You promised to make me confident But all I want is to turn to the side and disappear You taught me with things I can do nothing about Enforce me to believe that I can My legs are too thick Stop eating Your bony arm doesn't reach all the way around my already too small waist Stop eating Your voice screams at me from the tv speakers And the centerfolds of magazines We don't carry your size Embrace your curves as long as your middle finger can fit inside the dress your mom gave you when you were six You were so pretty back then No one can love you until you love yourself. They say I look in the mirror wishing I could transport myself to the other side Do I love myself there? counting calories counting pills counting stretch marks Your nose is too big. You can fix it Your collar bones aren't showing. You can fix it Your hip bones are hidden You can fix it Your fingers don't fit around your arm. You can fix it Stuck in a cycle Must recover can't recover I am too fat to have a problem, right? Right As my clothes start to fall off people stare And must it must be the last 10 pounds your unforgiving words have not ripped from my body You starve your inner child Her big blue eyes turning black If she knew who she was to become she would never have opened them Bigger smaller bigger smaller smallest perfect never perfect That you will finally be beautiful My rose colored skeleton is hanging in your closet Wearing that sweater that is just a little too small Well, that was amazing a poem in praise of the so-called uh, imperfect Wonderful Oh, where are we? Amanda favorite are you here? It does not indicate that you are Is there anyone who would like to read Amanda's poem? She is a student of mrs Miranda at Soquel High And her paid your poem is on page 40. All right, the next Poet up is leaf Frazier a student at laura of laura brown at the alternative family education His poem is hope of india hope of the world. It's on page 41. Come on up leaf There once was just one man who stubbed to injustice on a train in south africa There once was just one man who dared to live by his principles He calmly looked into the eyes of those who would suppress him So they beat him so they imprisoned him and he calmly looked into those eyes. I took his liberties I walked for freedom He knew he would have no less than freedom miles. He walked and invited his fellow indians He invited the poor. He invited the rich. He invited the hindus. He invited the muslims He invited anyone who dare walk with him He invited his people his india over and over without question without prejudice To take a peaceful stand to dare dream of freedom over and over Not bend his principles to not be sold out bought out corrupted To be then daunted example of what we all dream each one of us can be india comes Home to govern her own pure simple freedom. Mahatma Gandhi Thank you very much. Leave Taylor Gabori. Are you here? I was pretty sure she wouldn't be Taylor is from the yes school and I I work with Taylor. I'm going to read her poem in her absence It's called call me coffee They call me coffee because I grind so fine They call me coffee because I'll keep you up at night They call me coffee because I'm really bitter And most people can't take me straight Oh, yeah You know something I'm what I must have skipped No, I didn't okay Lexi julian. Are you here? All right, come on up Lexi julian is a student of miss sanders self at mount madonna school and she has two poems lucky and overloaded and they're on page 44 and 45 That's uh, yeah, let's get her down. Is this good? I'm short So Yeah, I gotta see which way didn't okay It's all good Give it a try Hello closer Hello Can't make me shorter than I already am All right, give it a shot. Is this good? Okay My first poem is called lucky They said she was lucky like a four-leaf clover Because she knew how to talk the talk and seemed to walk the walk But they didn't realize a chain is only as strong as its weakest link That she was far from a diamond in the rough but rather a drop in the bucket with a fate worse than death Her achilles heal that beauty is in the eye of the beholder When her eyes were as blind as a bat Her silence spoke volumes If anyone would have stopped looked and listened But no one reads between the lines when something is picture perfect Even though everyone says beauty is only skin deep And so she was an army of one Walked in an uphill battle with the demons inside Her bridges were burned leaving her caught between a rock and a hard place She was ready to rest her weary bones The fight had gone out of her eyes In this quiet before the storm one could see the devil in the details For eyes are windows to the soul But out of sight out of mind Realization came too late when already she was going Going gone And I have a second poem called overload and it's a prose poem. That's why it looks weird Okay Too much too much isolation Too much chaos Too much of the world spinning and people crying and the crazed laughter that comes with knowing nothing and know everything Too much to do so busy that you can't find the time to look down at the sidewalk and see a ladybug And count 10 spots and feel lucky because that means you get 10 wishes Too much of me the good and the bad and the why Too much spinning inside your own mind driving you to feel like a single blade of grass and hundreds of acres of pasture And yet when a massive truck goes by you are the only one that gets crushed Too much pressure pressure on the brain to be smart and pressure on the heart to be loved and pressure on the arteries from saturated fat build-ups Too much structure and too much freedom leading to the question. Do I be me or do I be the me you want me to be? Too much argument over right and wrong battles of frustration carried out over country borders and the walls of a two bedroom single family home Too much wandering not for the sake of curiosity But rather to run and hide and never face that which makes us want to burrow beneath the covers of our beds and never resurface Too much being explicit when it should be illicit and not enough of the implicit being actively acknowledged Too much fear fear of the traumatic and of serial killers and of not fitting into a pair of size double zero jeans Too much competition in a world that needs not winners or losers, but friends Too much of wishing for rain, but screaming at the thunderstorm Too much dwelling on the memories of the good old days and the mistakes of the past Longing to retrieve the lost minutes that have already become dust Too much and not enough Lexi that that first uh the first poem you read Lucky That was really amazing. I think thousands and thousands of poets have tried to take cliches And turn them into some to revivify and resuscitate them But you uh created a whole poem with 25 lines of cliches. It's an amazing effort really It's very conscious uh clearly Amazing All right, um No, I I I meant that you know when I said that it's full of cliches. I mean, okay. All right. Okay. All right um The next poem is by Sonia Laka a student of miss sander's self at mount madonna school Her poem is called my mission of villanelle and it's on page 46 My mission of villanelle. Can you hear me? The advice you have given the memories that were made continuing it will be my mission I loved your clever intuition and I will never trade the advice you have given Your cooking in the kitchen is something I have always craved continuing it will be my mission Visiting you was a tradition and I will make sure I have saved the advice you have given Family first was your ambition and I will never put it into the shape Continuing it will be my mission In the family you hold a big position And no one will degrade the advice you've given Continuing it will be my mission A villanelle Yeah, we don't get a lot of poems in traditional forms these days If you're interested in a a book that will give you a Lots and lots of forms pick up the book of forms by louis turco He was my first poetry teacher and the book of forms has been printed over and over again I think there are over 200 different forms there that You could easily access the book of forms by louis turco Where are we? All right Brianna loman is a student of Ms rogers at harbour high school and her poem is called peace. It's on page 47 Welcome Peace the world is still quiet Silent but for the breathing mists an endless sea of untamed beauty Wild and free In the liquid glow of dawn a frosted sea of fog Beginning to fall away to sunlight As the timeless stars fade and a new dawn ignites love In our hearts for this newborn world As we watch we are free Our worries dance away time has lost its chains because we are now brave Ready to meet today lost in the eye of the world in a moment the last eternity Yet but an instant Stretching on in memory. This is our own infinity Farthest past the distant stars closer than your own heart For in this moment we have peace Thank you, Brianna the uh Okay, at the lettley Morales is a student of mrs. Silver at Aptos Eye Her poem is another face in the crowd. It's on page 49 apparently At the lettley is not here Are you here? You are not is there anyone who would like to read her poem? all right We'll go on Ciara Meyer is a student of mrs. Rigby at montavista christian school Her poem is entitled tattoos and it's on page 50 Welcome Ciara Oh, there you are tattoos They wouldn't let him speak so he told his story through the ink on his skin It was a lost language a language few people bothered to learn And when people looked at him they read into the wrong things He cried in the dark begging them to see That the real patterns aren't formed by the black but by the spaces between Needle That's an old one isn't it needle Good thing i'm not old All right, um The next poem is by Zachary Passmore who is a student of mrs. Daryl A mrs. Daryl at san lorenzo valley high school and his poem is entitled What is the snow plow doing in it's on page 52 Zachary? Can everybody hear me? What is the snow plow doing? I wonder if snow feels insulted when it gets pushed out of the way Like carrots on a toddler's plate There it was so clean and new freshly fallen Yet the snow plow came and now the white has become dirty slush Not suitable for building snowmen And when the frost breaks the slush goes away vanishes overnight Look up and see the souls of so The souls of snowmen flying to the sky seeking colder days I I don't know how the judges did it. There are so many fine poems here My goodness deciding which is which is which all right Simone Pickens is a student of mrs. Silver at aptos high school Her poem is what the thunder said and it's on page 53 simone um What the thunder said the first time I meet him He is a young man and I am still small Small enough to carry He picks me up with ease and points to the sky Listen to what the thunder says The next time I meet him. He is aged and gray and I am young Young and strong as mountains He smiles with crinkled eyes and I bend down to hear him Listen to what the thunder says The last time I meet him. He is ageless and I understand He looks to the earth and I tell him Listen to what the thunder says He laughs loud and booming like slow dark clouds against the autumn sky Thank you Sierra rogers would be the next Poet a student of miss darrow at san lorenzo valley high And her poem would be entitled is entitled body nine issues, but apparently sierra is not here Is there anyone who would care to read sierra's poem? all right Next oh Levi's santos apparently is not here either Also a student of mrs. rogers at harbour high school And his poem is enjoyment. It's on page 56 leave. Are you truly not here levi levi? Right on tom mccoy One of the organizers of this event So levi's poem is entitled enjoyment Opaque dust clouds block the sunlight Over the empty lot where the children are playing soccer They wander through as though as if they are blindfolded, but they don't care They have fun as they scream and cheer on their teammates So thick you can feel it smog from a passing tuck tuck blurs the air In front of a group of women selling their huipales, but they don't care they laugh joyfully amongst themselves A family rides in the back of a pickup truck Down the palm line road toward it's topa Wind tugs at their faces and bits of mud splatter up onto them, but they don't care They are together laughing watching the sun hide behind the sugar cane fields It may not be perfect It may not even be decent for some people But the people are happy here And I am happy here This is where I feel at home This is Guatemala Thank you, Tom. All right. We have come to A poem by Molly Schrank Did I pronounce that right, Molly? You're here, aren't you? I is that right? Schrank? All right Student of Ms. Rogers at Harbor High School And her she has two poems monsters and soldier On pages 57 and 59 Here you go. Oh, we probably need to I'm just going to read soldiers Soldier For veterans day, I brought a rose to the grave of the soldier A friend of mine, he fought in the civil war for 16 years For 16 years, he got up every day in a battlefield The walk from home to school was a minefield The quad of lunch was enemy territory His own mind was a war-torn country He was a soldier, without a general Without a unit, without a cause Each day he was fighting the dark parts of himself And each day he grew wearier as the dark parts only got stronger People didn't notice the way his once young face became a soldier's solemn stare And even if they did, what could they say? None of them knew how long this war would last How great the casualties would be His soul became a grenade The pin already pulled which he was tasked with holding He knew it was only a matter of time before it bloomed pieces And yet he held on anyways He held on for fear of the damage the shrapnel would cause For those whose lost soul would hurt For his mother would cry at his funeral And his father would shake his head and his little sister Would feel ashamed to be seen at the grave of her broken brother For no matter how hard he fought this war was all his own And he knew there would be no military honors at his burial He woke up every day and felt the soul crushing weight of his belief He so firmly held that this war was all his own You know for most soldiers the battle truly begins when they fire their first shot For so many others their first shot is how it ends Oh my god, that was amazing At the the next poet is Holden Smith a student of Ms. Melissa Sander's self at Mount Madonna school She has two poems on page 60 and 61 He what did I let me get the tears out of my eyes. I'm sorry that last poem got to me Sorry Holden were I apologize I cry easily Children of the stars on page 60 and unlikely infinite on page 61 Holden Children of the stars One day we people of stardust will be reclaimed by the cosmos The path that we took will be marked by that which we touched Like the silvery mane of a comet these things too will fade But what of the raw powers of emotion will they still linger in the universe As undying forces, rebellious subjects against time's rule These energies have never began nor end We are the conscious manifestations of the cosmos Our love is the fiery passion of entangled stars Vengeance the nova of the wrong lover Death the inescapable of abyss consuming that which loved Sorrow the empty expanses left behind Unlikely infinite There are no glowing halls filled with our ancient kin Nor divinity to dine alongside in the heavens When our hearts labor no more and our bodies are laid to rock Hollowed by time thoughtless it will be gone forever To have taken a breath atop the world from the last pockets of virgin air Laughing, crying, to have embraced the night sky Reached out and touched the constellations To have hoped against time for the things I love so recklessly The sea and the mountains all the people in between But last forever yet to have been is enough So when the wind pushes me no further In the vessel that is this human soul Splinters into countless pieces And my atoms are mine no longer Do not despair for I have lived And likely as it was I lived Thank you, Holden The next poet is Ronnie Smith And he is a student of Miss Darrow at San Lorenzo Valley High School His poem is open, it's on page 62 Wait a minute, is he not here? He is not here Okay, the next poet Is there anyone who would like to read his poem? The next poet is Amy Telemontis Is a student at Natural Bridges High School Amy, you're here! Oh my god, hallelujah It's funny because I never read my poems in class So, yeah, okay, but I have a desire to change But I left my courage at my old address The wind took my blessings I have a full floor full of scars And a ditch full of darkness And I left the directions in a shelving cart I tried two or three times to find you But couldn't the next poet is Sophie Widman Who is a student of Miss Darrow at San Lorenzo Valley High School Is Miss Darrow here, by the way? Oh, okay, she's certainly had a number of students Which is great Sophie, come up and read Tried, not tired Page 64 Tried, not tired Hello? Dyslexia? Yes, this is the girl who cannot pronounce the first letter of her name She tries to say the S, but it comes out as a TH Should we be worried? Is there an Ophie Widman in the room? Dyslexia, darling This is the girl who just got glasses Because she cannot read the words that are right in front of her She just needs to find the words inside of the other words It's as easy as that Sound the words out Go slow Hi there, Dyslexia Sophie here This is the girl who cannot take a test Should we have her tested? Oh no, she gets good grades She will be fine But she fails her tests Who mixes up tired and tried I am tired of being the one who tried to pass a test Please don't stay too long I don't want to be the old lady too afraid to even speak For fear of messing up once again Golly, that was terrific I know that the next person is not here He emailed me and told me that he had to work tonight So I will read his poems He's got two of them And the first is called Zach Weiner is currently at the Yes School And I knew him at the camp And now I know him at the Yes School And he has two poems The first is called Can't Afford It Some people use their intelligence like currency To buy emotions They drop big money on love But only small change for empathy There are days when I'm so mentally exhausted I can't afford expensive emotions I'm broke And all I'm left with is sadness Sometimes it feels like even the luxury tax is beyond my pay grade And that I'll have to take out a second mortgage on sympathy I can't afford to be broke I don't want to move back in with fear And here's Zach's second poem on page 66 It's called Dream Factory There's a quiet town not far from here With a factory designated entirely for the manufacture and delivery of dreams A flurry of soft lights washes over its windows and its rusty exterior Its machines work fluidly, transforming wisps of emotion and threads of desire into midnight movies The dreams are pressed into small packages wrapped neatly in brown paper Then placed gently into tiny trucks that whizz down unlit highways Carefully avoiding the tar-scummed grip of shadows and delivered to needy sleepers And I believe that we have come to the last poem And the poet is Cole Wyman who I also know Cole come on up and read in everything and everyone I have a dream that hay will die That people will look each other in the eye That women can walk alone at night and that will teach boys they can cry I believe one day there will be peace from Detroit to the Middle East That everyone will have enough to eat because enough of us refuse to feast I hope we all get filled with love I pray we learn how much is enough That people and fish and birds and bugs can live as one as God made us I dream of strength and courage born of pain and of people dancing in the rain That alcohol, meth, pills and cocaine will lose the power to drive us insane Maybe I'm asking way too much or maybe I'm not dreaming big enough But I don't see heaven as something up above I see it in everything and everyone Thank you so much for coming and thanks to all of the wonderful poets And do come back next year, please Good night