Bethesda Local Writer’s Showcase: 2024 Young Poet Contest Winners

Ms. Angelou’s Sweet Song Smells of Honey
By Lauren Ajebon – Winston Churchill High School

I’m so sorry white America.
My bootstraps have been cut off,
the seams ripped from the back of my shoe.

With every inch I crawl, my parent’s poverty shackles my ankles
and drags me into the depths of hell.
With every brilliant poem I write comes a pat on the back, yet
a little white girl earns her wings for every adlib she fills in.

Still I Rise.
it’s got nothing to do with the back of my shoes.
It’s got nothing to do with the money lining my daddy’s wallet—which is none.
It’s got everything to do with the disadvantage you placed me at,
10 paces behind the starting line before I could even walk.
So when I make it, it won’t just be because I’m damn good,
it’ll be because I’m better than every Ashley and Hannah you applauded in my wake.
Because I pumped my little legs with the resilience of my ancestors.
Because I was bottle fed with the rage of my grandmother.
Because I was swaddled with the spite of my mother as she rocked me to and fro.

And when I reach that finish line you’ll know.
I’ll snatch that rusty pair of scissors your grandaddy passed down right out of your hands.
And all the little black children waiting single file with their boots at the ready
will be whooping and hollering in your face.

Vessel
By Aigerim Bibol – Sidwell Friends School

i remember / echoes of a legacy
bound by blood / we are the wilting petals
listen closely and you might hear
whispers in the wind / empty spaces echoing with
unspoken words / this discord of our kin
you smashed your mother’s china set / cut your hand
on the tile / periwinkle-blue flowers dotted with red
i glimpse my reflection in the fractured
teacups / these porcelain vessels, reduced to
fragments of a fragile bond / shadows
inherited from my father from his father /
we are not broken / just shards of a whole
you told me to forge my own path / take
these scraps and piece my life into a mosaic / so
i searched for meaning in tea leaves / found
ghosts in the attic, tethered to the past / heirlooms,
tarnished by the weight / of bitter reminiscence
a frayed tapestry, woven with threads of sorrow /
a sepia-toned photograph, weathered through time /
a box of memories, unopened

A Lesson in Mythology
By Katherine Erceg – Georgetown Visitation Preparatory School

Would you have set out across the wine-dark sea
If you had known what would come to be?

When the land churned with perennial promise,
Darker, less hazy than the sea foam oratory,
All trees and wrists bound by a certain wanness;
You might have known what would come to be,
Rich fumes promising a tainted plea.

When the land beyond flushed like adonis,
Blood rich with figs and boars and the old tree,
Surely no wine would burn with acrid rawness—

Then you knew what would come to be:
Wine-dark land, too wronged for any deity,
Only faced with the churning of a restless sea.

My America
By Raquel Liriano-Dieguez – Richard Montgomery High School

I do not have pale skin with blonde silky hair
My skin is dirty and my hair evil, the color of soot
I do not have beautiful captivating blue eyes
My eyes are filled with dirt and drowned in mud

Though I am hideous and grisly
We all have skin, hair, and eyes
I grew up with you, you’re all I know America!
I love you my America!

Wait what?
Does my repulsive and grotesque exterior disgust you that much?

Why do you hate me my America?
When all I do is show you respect and restraint
Why must you label me my America?
When I cannot even label myself

Is it always going to be like this?
I love you my America!
Even if you will never love me.

To Have Been Born Mexican
By Ariana Vazquez-Avalos – Paint Branch High School

To have been born Mexican.

I blow on the wind so that

My eagle of pride may fly

To have been born Mexican,

I mop my floors for the

sweet scent of fabuloso

To have been born Mexican,

I fight stereotypes

To have been born Mexican,

Others assume i’ve been in gunfights

To have been born Mexican,

I pray to the Virgin Mary

To have been born Mexican,

I carry my families burdens

To have been born Mexican,

The sun doesn’t burn my skin

but only turns it bronze

To have been born Mexican,

I grow in the aztec blood

To have been born Mexican,

I can only hope for a better tomorrow

Catharsis
By Jennifer Wan – Richard Montgomery High School

what would icarus have been
without the sea to embrace him?
if those golden entrails above
dense, smoldering, suffocating
swallowed him whole
as if beneath those wax wings
was just a burden
waiting to be martyred by desire

what story would it have been
if there was no liberation to his tragedy?

now, where would i have been
if i had no sea to
catch my tributaries?
no sea to treat me as if every breath
spoke a thousand words
while the winds whisper in agreement
to catch all my fallen pieces
and stitch me whole again
from the inside out

Fire
By Max Zonov – Albert Einstein High School

Some say they burn with fire.
Some claim they melt to it.
Some believe it lights up their desires.
But oh my child, it’s always wild.
Turn away from life and it’s all silent.
Blink you once and it all falls.
Cry it out but it will always flow.
The tears you shed just make it glow.
Your god is not for your life savior.
It’s just the fuel for your own pain.
The wish that holds within your soul
Will break your sacred pure white skull.
Our minds will flood with kerosene.
From made-up meaningless routine.
The Nature’s green,
Will pull you to your knees.
And oh the fire,
The free desire,
Will flow again into your veins.
The mother’s promise has been lift off.
And Nature’s rose will once more grow.

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