YOUTH WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES

Transcription

1 YOUTH WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES Poetry Category 1 Grade 2 Elijah Hoskins GFWC Achieving By Reading Club Rain, Rain Rain, rain go away. That s what all the babies say. Up in the sky, the birds will fly. But down below, the streets have to glow. This poem is to teach people that they are like soft leaves, so you better enjoy your childhood, and be as happy you can be. Old people, young people, we are all the same. Now watch us, oh watch us, as we walk down the Hall of Fame. Let s all go play and enjoy the rest of the day, and let nobody stand in anyone s way. Keep on moving no matter what comes our way. I don t know about you but all I can see is birds in the sky. I must have a gift, but I don t know why? Category 2 Grade 3 Re Lonna Johnson GFWC Achieving By Reading Club Great Grandpa Gone My grandpa was caught in a fire in his home. I was seven when it happened. I was very sad. My grandma and my aunt tried to pull him out of his window. His burning house was on the news. It smelled like a burnt biscuit. My mom and I were watching the news. I accidently hit the remote control #3. I saw his house in flames at 43 rd Wayne. When I ride by the funeral home, I blow a kiss to heaven and make the sign of the cross. Now a piece is gone from my heart.

2 YOUTH WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES (cont.) Poetry (cont.) Category 3 Grade 8 Shawn Randle GFWC Achieving By Reading Club The Sign As I enter my room, I see the television left on, my shoes lined along the wall, my bed unmade. I look to the left and spot my dresser cluttered. Next to it is a picture of my brother. I turn and see scratched letters on my door. It is something I had never noticed. I tried to figure out what it means, but I never did. Who was here before me? Is it initials, a password, a tattoo design, or just a bad luck sign? I think of my brother, Isaiah. He has a lot going on in his life. He is divorced, fighting for his son that s four, trying not to back to jail, and still be a good role model for me. My brother and I live in clutter.

3 YOUTH WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES (cont.) Poetry (cont.) Category 4 Grade 12 - Leslie Fallert GFWC Woman s Club of Ste. Genevieve Freedom Freedom, O Freedom, where do I start Not a right, nor a privilege but a gift at heart Some say you re given, others a sin No one is certain, until my story begins Deep in the desert, or stranded at sea Our service members fight hard to safeguard our plea Please, O Please will you stand up and fight Stand to have courage, stand not with fright Politicians don t fear, you won t get dirty Leave it to the men and women who are fighting under the age of thirty What, O what does this have to do with me I ll tell you quite simply, I ll tell you with glee I was raised as a brat, I was raised with pride Taught to have confidence, taught to have tried The military is in my blood, sir yes sir it is Freedom isn t free, my father says Air Force, Navy, Coast Guard will haul Even Marines will sacrifice it all Freedom means more than just, Whatever I want It needs to be protected by those who won t daunt Freedom is sacrifice, freedom is pride It lives at each and every Americans side It means I can sleep with not having to fear Of danger and threat living so near It means I can learn from a school that will teach Every lesson and skill I need to reach It means I am loved by a country so dear That cares about my needs, it cares about my peers Freedom is different to every living soul It s a gift, it s a right, it s a privilege, it s a role But to a military dependent, who has seen its effects Believes it s a building block to create what is next A world united, a world so clean Only if only freedom would mean Have respect, pride, and care for all This world and community deserves to stand tall

4 YOUTH WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES (cont.) Short Story Category 4 Grade 10 Sophia Rancilio GFWC Woman s Club of Ste. Genevieve What Freedom Actually Means to Me Over the years I have heard a wide variety of people say, You should be happy with the freedom you have, You re still young, so be free, and even someday you will no longer have the freedom you do at this very moment. Many years I was clueless as to why adults would constantly use these phrases directed toward me, until recently I discovered the real reason. Entering high school, many different life lessons were thrown in my face. I realize more clearly what the word freedom actually means to me. When asked people reply, Freedom means to me, doing whatever I want to do and when I want to do it, while this is the basic response, it gets deeper into meaning. Freedom means to get to pick what kind of classes you want. It means you can decide if you want to do your work or not to do anything in that class. It means you can go to a job after school, and do what you want to do to receive money. Freedom can mean anything that you make it out to be. Growing up, I saw many things a few years ago kids were not use to. I watched my uncle get married to a man of his choice, that was possible to happen because of freedom. I watched many students and adults take a stand in their life, that was given to him through freedom of speech. Families can grow throughout the decision of how many kids the parents want to have. Without laws of stating how many kids every household can have, they let us have the ability to produce how ever many children people want. Freedom can expand much farther than what I stated. Freedom also means going shopping where you want. And getting to buy what clothes you like to wear and have for yourself. Things could be more serious and be about what you want to worship. Sense religions have started to develop people made vast choices to preach what they want. This tradition is still carried into what is in our society today. Another form of freedom, that has caused many problems throughout society is having guns, I think it is a huge privilege to have guns. Many reasons citizens hate guns are people taking abuse of the power, and using them in the wrong matter. I think having guns and using them properly is a huge form of freedom. Every day people still manage to take advantage of our freedom. They forget the large amounts of people leaving the states, so we can still have our daily freedoms. I salute every individual who even considers taking time out of their life to serve for ours. That is a true form of freedom in my eyes.

5 MEMBER WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES Poetry Kay McDonald GFWC Monday Club of Farmington Catalpa Memories Fallen catalpa blossoms form a necklace around the tree. When we were young, we used to take catalpa blossoms and with them make jewelry to adorn our writs. We strung them upon a wisp of grass and tied a knot to form the clasp. No golden chain, just nature s beauty. We also pulled off petals to see whether or not he loveth me. Did truth in daisy petals dwell? It s an answer time alone can tell. But there was something else we did. We held a buttercup under our chin reflecting upward on the skin. What it foretold I don t remember for yound June becomes older December. And years which pass erase some things. Even nostalgia no longer brings sharp memories. The edges soften, as I leave crib and near my coffin. Years come, they go; a new crop springs of children and the games they play. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, but the calendar, which does not lie, shows months and years hasten by and grass that once was green and fresh has withered, as does our flesh. A sobering thought to reflect upon. But for now let s enjoy summer and the thoughts it brings of children s joys, long-ago springs. Seasons come and seasons go and memories both ebb and flow.

6 MEMBER WRITING CONTEST FIRST PLACE ENTRIES (cont.) Short Story Judy Gustafson GFWC Woman s Club of Ste. Genevieve The Bus That Became a Train Bob s father had been a Civil Engineer for the Great Northern Railroad. His family often vacationed across the country enjoying the Pullman Sleeping cars, riding and listening to the rumble of the trains along the railroad tracks. During their college years, Bob and his three brothers spent summers working on railroad projects. Due to his love of trains, my husband Bob and I had planned a wonderful summer trip on the Amtrak Train from Kirkwood (near St. Louis) to Kansas City, Missouri. We were hoping to have a fun weekend at Country Club Plaza, a lively area with upscale restaurants and shopping. We loaded our luggage onto the idling train at the Kirkwood Station and as the train pulled out, we were so excited. The seats were comfortable and all we had to do was sit back and watch the beautiful scenery. Not a care in the world, as we left the driving to the engineer. Or so we thought. Before we had reached the halfway point of our journey, we saw the train staff mumbling to each other and wondered what that was all about. Unfortunately, a train derailment had occurred just west of Jefferson City. After two hours of sitting and waiting, we were told a bus was coming to take us on to Kansas City. I don t know where the bus came from but it was a sad looking older Continental Trailways Bus. The seats were tattered and some of the armrests were broken, nevertheless, we were glad to be on our way. However, the bus stopped at every bus station and train station between Jefferson City and Kansas City. At last we were finally there. Thank goodness our hotel accommodations were just as we had expected, elegant and comfortable. We dined at the Cheesecake Factory and I needed to try one of everything just to settle my nerves from the exhausting day of travel. We thoroughly enjoyed a tour of Hallmark Headquarters, dining, sightseeing and visiting the boutiques along Country Club Plaza. The weekend ended too soon. We packed to go to the station to make the train trip back home. To our dismay, the bad news was waiting. The track had not been repaired from the derailment three days earlier. We couldn t believe our eyes! The ugly rattle trap bus had reappeared to take us home. It was worse than before as we had to ride the old well worn bus all the way from Kansas City to Kirkwood. As the bus driver stopped at each bus stop and each train station along more than 200 miles, he would say All aboard! and toot his horn. You see he was driving a bus that really wanted to be a train. Finally, eight long hours later we arrived at the Kirkwood Station. We ve decided next time we ll drive the car to Kansas City.