Poetry Omnibus: II. YOUTH WINNERS

Posted: Friday, April 02, 2010

For the fifth year in a row, Juneau's buses are somewhere you can read an original poem written by a local resident, courtesy of the Poetry Omnibus contest.

"Every year has been very different," said organizer Robyn Holloway. This year, she said the quality of submissions was high.

Poems "ride the bus" for a year. This year, there is one for each of Juneau's 16 buses. Eight are written by youth, and eight by adults.

The program is based on similar programs in Seattle, Portland, San Francisco and New York.


Juneau Bus

By Brickie Durand

(5th Grade, Riverbend Elem)






Meeting new people

Bus stop


By Olivia Fletcher

(age 11)

Sunrise is the time

when the night stallion

battles the break of dawn

and the mysteries of the night

are finally broken

as the sun comes up again


By Cristian Guzman

(5th Grade, Riverbend Elem)

Life is like a fuse getting ready to burn out.

It burns

your life away till its gone for good.

The sparks

are the years that your life grows.

It will get closer and closer and closer

'til it has nothing

to get closer to.

Wild Cucumber

By Madeline Handley

(age 12)

delicate, beautiful, soft light green

sprung from the dark under the spruce,

leaves like upturned hands

darkshining berries hang under the leaves

under but not hidden

have a taste, it won't hurt me

I hold a secret

I'll tell you today

or maybe tomorrow



By Zeke Thompson

(5th Grade, Riverbend Elem)

Among the fluffly

Chickens that fly

Through the sky

With fluffy kittens

In pink pretty

Clouds having a

Snowball fight with

cotton puffs.


By Tristan Mead

(5th Grade, Riverbend Elem)

Blue is like water flowing

The Yukon,

Blue is like a blue

Crayon rolling around class,

Blue is like a drawing from a

Four year old from a blue marker,

Blue is like a

Clear sky,

Blue is like a blue empty

Bowl lonely on the table.

Winter's Peace

By Margaret Ross

(age 16)

Walking home up the hill I see balloons tied

to the stairs. They hang limp and wrinkled

like old ladies gossiping over the grandchildren.

My Xtra Tuffs squeak in the snow, Killer Kid

Hill still untouched by screaming sleds;

the pile from the plow not yet shaped into a jump.

I bare my neck, stretching up so it's painful

to swallow. As I watch the stars, between every

step I can feel the earth spin away from me.

I know the wind will catch me.

The White Board

By Karl Tagaban

(5th Grade, Riverbend Elem)








White tiger

Waiting to

Get its stripes

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