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- Poetry Contest
Click below to view the top three poems in our inaugural poetry contest held from March 22 through April 12 of 2023. Entries were submitted in children (ages 5 to 11), teen (ages 12 to 17), and adult (18+). The theme of the contest was "Connecting with Nature." Patrons from the Town of Kingston and other surrounding communities could submit one poem in any form. The winners were announced on April 25, 2023 on our website and through Social Media.
The Outdoors (1st Place)
Keira, 5th Grade, Hingham
Outdoors the wind can blow so high.
Outdoors is where the birds will fly.
Outdoors gives off such fresh, fresh air.
Outdoors will blow wind through my hair.
And every morning it’s fun to play.
And every night leaves will be blown away.
I am a Little Wolf Cub (2nd Place)
Salote, 3rd Grade, Pembroke
I am a little wolf cub
I like to be near my mom.
I eat red berries. The color
of my fur is gray and white.
I like the spring-time, my fur turns brown
to camouflage in the woods;
in the winter I turn light gray
to blend into the snow.
When I get scared, I press
against my mom, most of the time
she protects me from the bears and humans.
Some of the humans tried
to hunt my tribe, but my dad is
the leader of my wolf pack and he
scared them off.
I am a little wolf cub.
Under the Forest Canopy (3rd Place)
Oliver, 4th Grade, Plymouth
Under the forest canopy,
I rub my hands against the wet tree bark,
The solemn yet suspenseful dripping of water fills my ears,
I let my soul ascend to a brighter more beautiful place,
My hands squish the soil,
Nothing is more beautiful;
Nature's Beauty (1st Place)
Eli, 8th Grade, Kingston
Amidst the hustle and bustle of life,
We often forget to take a pause,
To breathe in the freshness of air,
And soak in the sunshines warmth.
As we connect with nature's embrace,
A transformation begins to take place,
As we connect with the earth under our feet,
And feel the world's heartbeat.
The rustling of leaves within the breeze,
The animals singing in the trees,
The flowing brooks and violent waterfalls,
Speak to our souls and make us feel whole.
The mountains standing tall and proud,
The ocean waving so very loud,
The colors of the sky and sunset,
Show us beauty we will never forget.
In nature's embrace, we find peace,
A place to hide from all of our griefs,
A reminder we are part of something grand,
And that life is a journey, unplanned.
So let us take time to connect,
With the beauty of nature we often neglect,
For in its embrace we will find our way,
We will keep going everyday.
Summer (2nd Place)
Zoe, 7th Grade, Plympton
The daisies white
Life feels easy
Playing in the heat
Long days by the pool
Laying by the sea
That's what summer means to me
Nature to Me (3rd Place)
Molly, 7th Grade, Kingston
Nature is running through a field of dandelions on a warm spring day
Nature is birds chirping on a bright sunny morning
Nature is waves crashing at the beach on a hot summer afternoon
Nature is dancing in the rain during a balmy summer storm
Nature is butterflies fluttering around
Nature is walking in the woods and taking in the beauty with every breath
This is nature to me
Ant Dance (1st Place)
Maryann Gibbons, Kingston
A pinhole in the window
It took a while for us to see where they were coming from.
I asked if we should call an exterminator
He said the traps should do the trick.
I see an empty seat, but you said someone was sitting there.
The article said we should all find a way to live together.
No one did anything, and then the ants came on the TV.
Connection (2nd Place)
Rose Hickey, Kingston
Walking rainy streets, I see
a wet crow balancing on a streetlight,
its beady eyes are watching me -
I watch them back till bird takes flight.
Rain drums a tune upon the ground
Tree branches sigh and rustle low
The rain, the wind-- I’m quite spellbound
Wild skies above, wild me below.
I let my heart reach far beyond
wherever I have held it tight,
I’m one with sky and wind and rain,
I am the stormy start of night.
Revision (3rd Place)
Roselyn Kubek, Pembroke
In October I plan flower beds,
cultivate soil, use a hori hori
knife to measure precise depth,
spacing, rows, plant thirty bulbs
each selected for proper height,
light, bloom. By spring they’re all
scattered like children by birds or squirrels
or winter gnomes
who leave me one red tulip
that elbows through the compost pile
nods at me like royalty
while there and there
and even there
slip towards a stand of white pine
where two delinquent daffodils
giggle yellow heads together
more than enough
delight in April