November 28, 2012 - A poem written by Aalayna Green of Clarkston, daughter of Tara Green, was selected from thousands of entries from around the country as one of the 10 best in her grade division.
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"When I write I am inspired by my imagination and whatever book I'm reading," Aalayna Green said. "I usually don't have a complete plan of action until I've either read something that inspires me or I think of something that makes me go 'that'd be interesting.' I've written novels at home and hopefully will get one published soon when I finish it before the end of the year. Writing is my passion, and I will be a writer forever."
Green has been writing poems for many years, "ever since I could hold a pencil," she said.
She submitted the poem earlier this year, when she was a seventh grade student at Sashabaw Middle School, to the Creative Communication poetry contest for student poets in grades K-12 throughout the United States and Canada.
Top 10 winners received special recognition in the poetry anthology "A Celebration of Poets," complementary copy of the book and a $25 check. Poems are selected for their literary merit, creativity, and social significance.
Upcoming poetry contest deadline is Dec. 6. To enter, send an original poem of 21 lines of less. Creative Communication also has an essay contest for essays of 100-250 words, deadline, Feb. 19. For more information, check www.poeticpower.com.
I am four
I know this 'cause I can count my age on my fingertips.
My tee-shirt is soggy from where I've been sucking on it
and Mr. Floppy's ear is too wet for me to do so.
I pump and pump my legs till I'm level with the bar, the wind teasing up my curls,
I am stroking clouds and kissing rainbows till my lips are red, yellow, orange, green, purple, and blue.
I swim in the dark of night and waltz with the moon.
I shoot the breeze with birds and play hopscotch with my shadow,
tripping over my shoelaces that keep coming undone.
I throw wonderful tea parties saying,
"How would you do?" and "Tea and crumpets anyone?"
Then, my pumping stops.
The clouds flee,
the rainbow runs back into the sky,
the birds go back to their nest
and my shadow remains hidden behind my back.
My swing slows down,
with the breeze tugging at my hair and snapping at my shirt.
Phil is editor for The Clarkston News. He is a veteran of the first Iraq war, having served in the U.S. Army.