(Photo by Kathryn Byer)
Writers and poets in the far western mountain area of North Carolina and bordering counties of South Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee post announcements, original work and articles on the craft of writing.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
NC ENGLISH TEACHERS ASSOCIATION WRITING AWARDS FOR STUDENTS
(Photo by Kathryn Byer)
Thursday, October 22, 2009
NCETA STUDENT LAUREATES: MIDDLE SCHOOL
MIDDLE SCHOOL DIVISION
I come from the smell of
Fresh cut grass on an old dirt road, off
a two-lane black top.
Old lawn mowers shade the yard.
A squirrel dashes up an oak tree
in a stream of smoke and lead.
Grandma with a basket full of eggs,
Grandpa and Dad working,
Sharing a spit cup, working
In the old tin building,
Uncle Mike tuning his Camero,
Cousin Hannah, drinking a Nehi,
watching the chickens picking the ground.
My cousin Johnnie and me in the tree stand
in the old pasture by the creek,
watching the field like a hawk
through the scope of an ought-two-seventy.
(But when Mom yells “Supper’s ready!” we
Hop in the pickup with chicken and
blackberry pies on our minds.)
I walk in with mud on my boots
And Mom says, “What? Were you raised in a barn?”
(But after lunch, dressed up and armed
With Bibles, we hop in the truck
And head for evening service.)
Second Place
slow and steady
each beat round and perfect.
Then ever so quickly
it becomes harsh and cold,
hitting faster and harder each time.
In the midst of it all
a shrill cry can be heard.
Where did it come from?
No one knows.
It haunts the night
and threatens to disappear,
although it never does.
I love the rain.
It brings out a dark side in me.
It makes me love scary stories
and ghosts.
It brings me peace, though,
in the worst of my nights.
It slowly sings me to sleep
with its majestic lullaby.
It doesn’t bring me anger or fear—
it soothes me.
There is something about it,
I would never guess,
That draws me to it
without ever uttering a word.
It carries me off to ride in the dark,
A person without a care,
yet it haunts me;
it loves me still.
Honorable Mention
Deep lungfuls of the icy cold air
Step on to glowing white ice
On gleaming metal blades
Gliding like a swan
Cold wind brushes my face
Like soft satin feathers
Lilting to the music
I spin like a top
Never wanting to stop
Watching the world whirl
Jumping like a dolphin
Into the air for joy
Floating, as if I could stay up forever
Hit the ice, steady my blades
Dancing from one end to another
Turning, twisting, prancing
Power and Grace
My energy is endless, endless in joy and love
Never wanting to leave
This is my true passion
Fiercer, more alive than anything
It burns like a blazing fire
My second home is the rink
On two metal blades and the beautiful ice
Here I will be
Forevermore skating
I am a Figure Skater.
(Sasha Cohen's skates. Sasha is Allie's favorite figure skater.)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
RALEIGH NEWS AND OBSERVER ARTICLE
www.newsobserver.com/105/story/1464403.html
Teachers, now is the time to begin selecting the work you want to submit to NCETA from your middle and high school students.
Tomorrow National Poetry Month begins. Get ready to dance!