Bethesda Local Writer’s Showcase: 2025 Young Poet Contest Winners

Mundanity
By Leah Bulson – Richard Montgomery High School

Do you mind if I set these here?

          whispering
          dogs with their heads hanging out of car windows
          hugs at the airport
          the rainbows that soap bubbles sometimes make (only sometimes)
          ice cream trucks on the highway
          the moon during the day
          knees bouncing to the beat of a song
          pinky promises
          train tracks
          car headlights illuminating rain when it's dark 
          pinwheels spinning in the wind
          the unique light of each person's smile
          and their laugh, the distinct notes of their laugh too
          something challenging
          when you smell something, hear something that triggers a specific memory
          lists

Thanks, 
You can keep them if you would like.

Middle Name
By Chloe Chang – Poolesville High School

There is a garden growing with white forsythia and petrichor,
plum blossoms and mugunghwa, in my name.

There is the sound of banging drums, cracking of fresh bamboo jeogalak,
chopsticks, and the bubbling of Korean kimchi stew in my name.

Mother, her calloused hands and wrinkled eyes, calling ddal, daughter, before calling my name.
You see birthmarks dotting a sea of olive skin, before you hear my name.

On foreign soil gardens are pruned, roots severed.
Squeezed, pressed, squashed into the middle, the new version of my name

Hides behind an initial, concealing leaves of ginkgo and persimmon branches,
a history of freedom fighters and farmers behind my name.

Yet after my last breath joins the heavy Mid-Atlantic wind, after
my tongue atrophies and my lips shrivel, what is left is only my name.

The same boom of hands against drums, harmony of soft flesh and splintering bamboo,
laughter around the dinner table, remains in my name.

Slithering in whispers, traveling through the West and crossing seas
until gales carry it back to the Kingdom of Choseon; my name.

With open arms I embrace the crackle of flames to join the symphony,
should Lady Liberty’s copper torch set ablaze my name.


Translations:
Hanbok: Traditional Korean clothing
Mugunghwa: Common Hibiscus, the Korean national flower
Choseon: The last and longest imperial dynasty of Korea

The Sky
By M Downs – Richard Montgomery High School

The world is pretty rough, right now. There’s a whole bunch of stuff going on.
And most people spend the day looking down at their phones. A screen full
Of bad news and scams and social media and views and followers and likes and all of that.
And people are looking down, all the time, at the screens in their hands. But you know,
How about you try something? How about you look up? Why don’t you look up at the sky?
‘Cause, you know, the sky is blue.
Or maybe it’s pink, maybe it’s red, orange, yellow, maybe it’s gray. But it’s colorful.
It’s bright, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s nighttime, maybe there’s stars, maybe there’s a moon.
Maybe there’s clouds, maybe they’re fluffy, maybe they’re shaped like something recognizable.
And maybe the sun’s out; maybe the sun is shining, maybe the sun is setting.
Maybe the sky is exploding in warm colors. And maybe it’s cloudy, maybe you can’t see the sun.
Maybe it’s raining. Maybe the sky is full of storm clouds, and the clouds are darker,
And maybe they look a little scary, but maybe if you turn around the sky is blue.
Maybe you’re only on the edge of a storm.
Maybe it’s snowing, maybe the sky is white and so is the ground. Maybe it’s cold but, you know,
It’s snowing! How can you be sad when it’s snowing?
And the thing is, you can’t see any of this if you’re looking at your phone, can you?
If you’re focused on all the bad stuff, you can’t see the beauty, can you?
So maybe once in a while, take a step back. Look up. At the sky.
Because, you know, the sky is pretty.

Amore
By Charles Gray – Richard Montgomery High School

I’ve only ever
Been electrocuted once
On accident
I was trying to plug in a charger
And my finger touched the socket
It send waves
Waves of pulsating pain
They traveled up my arm
But I pulled my hand before they spread
When we held hands that night
It felt the same
But it didn’t hurt
It was warm, and exiting
I became a lightning rod
With your electricity flowing through me
My entire body
My whole being
And I never wanted to let go

Fructophobia.
By Katherine Parra – Paint Branch High School

A fear of fruit.

If I was a fruit, I’d have trouble choosing just one.
I’d want to be a strawberry: sweet and always reliable.
I’d want to be a banana: always the superior fruit.
Each fruit you lay eyes on has unique characteristics.
Each person you encounter is like a fruit.
It defines who you are.

If a singular fruit was able to represent the way I am,
I’d choose a pomegranate: messy, staining, difficult.
A protective shell that’s complex to unfold,
One created to protect what’s on the inside, away from the harm of others around it.

When handled by the wrong soul, the pomegranate starts to seep.
It begins to bleed, staining everything and everyone around it unwittingly.
Its issues become a mess for others to handle.
Once they notice the mess, they give up and abandon the pomegranate.
They discard it: Tossing it away and deeming it a hassle not worth cherishing.

It wasn’t the pomegranate’s fault it turned out that way, it didn’t intend to be difficult.
All the pomegranate desired was to be cared for, it sought out a gentle heart.
For those delicate enough to pick apart every flaw and admire what it’s truly destined for.
A fruit worth the mess that comes with it,
Surely in another lifetime I’m worth the mess I bring upon as-well.

Inaugural Poem
By Nina Richards – Richard Montgomery High School

America is a statue
Like any statute, its internal aspects are not exposed
These cracks and crevices remain invisible to the public
If they were to be exposed, there would be a concern
Concern that the contents of our curated society are crass

We preach this rhetoric of “unity”
Yet the country is so divided, lost-sighted, and not reminded of what we could be
Hope cannot take form until we are aware
We cannot shield ourselves from the past, it would not be fair

We come from the ills of slavery and bondage
Discrimination runs through our country’s blood
We fail to live up to the morals of the golden rule
The crown jewel of a ‘perfect union’

Luckily, we are not starting from scratch
We must latch to what we already have and grow upon it
The progress we have made has been astronomical
Yet the things we still must work on are quite comical

We are armed with power
And it is the hour to strive for progress
Do it for the future generation
Make them love their nation

For more information on the Local Writer’s Showcase, please visit https://www.bethesda.org/bethesda/localwriters