Winning Poems 2015-2016

Grades 3-5

King Tut’s Chariot
By Jordan Guerra
From Mary Beth Wild's 5th grade class at Grafton Elementary School

King Tut’s chariot
Coolest in the land
Made with gold and silver
Flying across the sand.
Pulled by two horses
Magnificent, strong and fast
Races for King Tut
Never came in last.
With the God of Bes on his chariot,
He always won the race.
He frightened all the racers
With Bes’s scary face

 

Mummies
By Hannah Harmon
From Mary Beth Wild's 5th grade class at Grafton Elementary School

Mummies are old.
Mummies are spooky.
Mummies lived long ago.
Mummies were once special.
Mummies are cool.
Mummies were around for centuries.
Mummies have a purpose.
Mummies were alive.
Mummies look like ghosts.
Mummies are ancient.
One day we could be mummies, too.

 


Grades 6-8

The Chariot
By Grace Borgealt
From Krista Krauter's 7th grade class at Horning Middle School

Wheels big as my head,
Imagining them turn,
Fascinates the brain.

Sitting there.
King Tut
Forces me to stare,
Waiting for the statue to move,
But it never will.

Eyes of the horses
Follow me—
Impatient and unable to sit—
Watching them.

 

The Afterlife
By Gabby Proffitt
From Krista Krauter's 8th grade class at FLIGHT Academy—Horning Middle School

My lungs burn as I struggle to breathe.
In, out, in, out, in, out  .  .  .
My vision darkens, and soul leaves me.

I enter a dimension where no living man has gone,
A place where having died has no meaning,
A life after death, the afterlife.

I travel forward into the unknown.
I spot shadows moving within the mist.
People, like me, who travel the same path.

A set of scales appear out of the fog
With a feather on one end while the other sits empty.
My head fills with dread, and heart feels heavy in my chest.

Anubis, god of mummies emerges, a human with the head of a jackal.
He holds out his hand expectantly.
I put my own hand on my chest where my heart used to be.

It reappears in his palm, no longer beating.
He places my heart on the scale
Where it sways, determining my fate.

A monster appears—part crocodile, part hippo, part lion:
Ammit the Devourer.
I swallow hard as the creature stalks forward.
Its eyes bore into me, chilling my very soul.

I shut my eyes and hear the scales stop.
My fate has been decided, my fate has come.
A rough, gravelly growl echoes into space.

 


Grades 9-12

Stowed Away and Shrouded in Darkness
By Bronson Esteves
From Elizabeth Jorgensen's 11th grade class at Arrowhead Union High School

I go into eternal slumber
My body preserved to last thousands of years.
Stowed away and shrouded in darkness,
I sleep  .  .  . undisturbed.

The ceiling bars the scorching sun
As my body remains untouched for thousands of years.
Gusts of sand claw the outside walls,
While I sleep  .  .  . undisturbed.

Light peaks into my opened coffin
As my body migrates after thousands of years.
Foreign eyes study me
While I sleep  .  .  . undisturbed.

 

Papyrus and Hor-Aha’s Nubia Campaign
By Lindsay Schlehlein
From Elizabeth Jorgensen's 11th grade class at Arrowhead Union High School

I picked
From the Cyperus papyrus plant
In 3,100 B.C.

I peeled
Away the outer fibers.
The core—unavailing, unusable.

I plucked
The fibers into thin strips.
They soaked in water.

I pounded
With stone and
Let its water evaporate.

I placed
The strips in a woven pattern.
Soft and spongy.

I positioned 
The papyrus under a stone;
It lay flat.

I pieced 
The papyrus together the sugar
That came from the plant.

I polished
It into a smooth finish
By rubbing it.

I printed
And used it like paper
In 3,100 B.C.

I paused
And I waited for my message to be known.
We won the war.

 


Special Commendation

The Boy Pharaoh—King Tutankhamun Ruler of Egypt
By Michael Kudis
From Elizabeth Jorgensen's 12th grade class at Arrowhead Union High School

The ruler at the age of nine,
He is not classified as a normal guy.
He’s the King of Kings,
Ruler of the people.
Some wish he could still be king—like a sequel.

One can find him hunting for prey near the Nile
Where Egyptian flappers set the style.
But look no further than a mile
Because kids were eaten every day
By crocodiles.

With every step he buries
The enemies depicted on the soles of his Sperrys.
He was laid to rest in a coffin,
But not often is one drenched in gold.
He was long on riches, but short on skirts, socks and britches.

Some still wonder if his curse is fact or fiction;
He ran Egypt like keys to the ignition.
For 10 years you could say he completed his mission.
From morn ‘til night he graced a throne,
Five hundred wives he once called his own.