2nd Place

Run. Hide. Fight.

D'Machia Milom

Run from America
Hide from the Shooters
Fight the Government
Losing count
Thinking of all the rounds
They fire
Into the classrooms
Kids not knowing
Their typical Monday will be filled with doom
So many lives lost by senseless shooters
I can name a few
Nikolas Cruz
Seung-Hui Cho
Adam Lanza
Schools telling you to
Run from Cruz
Hide from Cho
Fight Lanza
How?
When the sounds of bullets are flying
Hearts are racing
Schools used to be a safe haven

Siren

D'Machia Milom

As the Waves roar
You can’t drown out my voice
Working your 9-5
But I’m what’s on your mind
Fall deeper
I’m singing your song
Greek mythology
Turned into real life
Sitting by the waters
Luring you in
Come closer
Pushed by love and sin
This will be an experience
The depths of my mental
Or the waves
Which one will drown you?
My shyness but my confidence
Will be sure to confuse you
So slip beneath the waves
Where you’ll be swept up
By my sweet curse

Blackish

D'Machia Milom

Black is my afro
Black is my grandma’s sweet tea
Black is my Nina
Black is the past
My ancestors were called Negros
Black is reminding whites that they cant say Nigga
In 2023
And them acting triggered
Black is pain
But black is beauty and gain
Breaking the chains
Black is my change
Black is my Usains
Speaking of running
They wonder why we run
When we are
Judged by 5-0 because our skin
Being treated differently because of our
Oppressors sins
Staring at the ocean

Land Mines

Ashley Trent

The light in the kitchen doubled as the door eased forward and the scent of my father’s cigarettes filled the room; he was home from work at the usual time. He carried a garment bag over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly at me while clutching his cigarette between his lips. “Why are you just getting home now?” I asked, the confusion apparent in my voice. His mother passed away that morning, and I received the call seven hours earlier. I stood with the entire room between us, my feet rooted but prepared to retreat, not yet sure of the mood he might be in.

Noise

Harper Vanden Bosch

Introduction by Jessica Shamberger, Barrett Committee:

Cold Ravioli

Elizabeth Dicks

The carnival train, full of colors, clowns, animals, and one headless giraffe, barrelled towards the floor vent where Mrs. Macaroni stood, screaming a terrible ‘here comes the train’ out of its whistle. Mrs. Macaroni seemed glued to the spot, and when the train crashed into her thigh, she fell with a screech onto the linoleum floor, and breathed her last breath. Suddenly, Michael sprang to his feet from where he had been lying pantsless and shoeless mere feet away, saw Mrs. Macaroni lying on the ground, and screamed a heartbreaking and high-pitched ‘NOOO!’

Untitled

Baraka Elmadari

You’re leaving tomorrow  19 years with you right down the street
Tomorrow is far away
so we talk and laugh  like we always do
We try to make the most of the time we have
But today is just like the others
I leave your house late and come back early
Without even noticing  today became tomorrow
with no sleep to divide them
The sun shining bright
but a dark cloud is in our hearts
pouring rain
a sinking feeling inside us
Tomorrow is today
but it doesn’t feel real

Handlebar Hijabs and Skipping Synopses

Baraka Elmadari

The car parked in front of me looked like something out of a movie. An old, powder blue pick-up with three miniature American flags. I knew the person already but I hated myself for assuming so quickly. The car was a little rustic like the man in my head. I walked to see the back of the car and was disappointed that I was so right: Trump/Pence. The only thing that surprised me was that it was the library parking lot.

Girl Power

Baraka Elmadari

What is this doing here? I thought. I was cleaning out the kitchen before my mom arrived the next day when I found my mug in the cupboard on the highest shelf. I had to climb the counter to reach that shelf. I expected to find expired prescription pills and a bag of flax seeds that needed to be thrown out but not my mug. I was drinking coffee from that mug just a few days ago at 5am while writing a term paper.

There Are No Words

Sarah Williams

Colter Poetry Prize Winner Sarah Williams

Introduction by Dr. Peter Kim, Barrett Committee:

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