Poetry Competition Results

March 3, 2020


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New Beginnings – as we enter the third month of our new decade, we look back on the years that passed and think about everything that happened, both good and bad. At the Marymount Messenger, we have all had a new beginning as we pursued our love for journalism and design in the first student newspaper at Marymount. Discussing this gave us the idea of pitching a competition for the whole school community, to show the importance of new beginnings and pursuing your passions. This is why we decided to host a poetry competition!


The rules were simple: entries had to follow the prompt of ‘new beginnings’, and had to be sent in by Tuesday the 4th February, where they were to be judged by Mr Clarke, Dr Byers and two members of the Marymount Messenger.


The response from the students was amazing, and the Messenger received dozens of entries of delightful poetry from students across the grades. All entries were full of talent, passion and were lovely to read through, which made the judgment process extremely difficult. However, after a week of deliberation and debating between teachers and student judges, we finally settled on three winners who are the following:


First place… Diya Asawa!


Second place… Isabella Hale!


Third place… Anonymous, Grade 11!


We would like to thank all students who entered for their dedication and incredible work. We hope to see more in the future when hosting other competitions. Keep a look-out in your emails for more!


First Place… Diya Asawa!

Tip of My Pen 


I can feel the beginnings of a poem 

at the tip of my pen

But I don’t have the right words

To begin my verse

a seed


My hand floats in mid-air

Stuck somewhere between my brain and the paper

I don’t know

how my seed will grow

a drought


So I wait. 

From time to time

I stare at the tip of my pen

And I wonder where I’ll be when

its tip will split open to reveal 

a flower bud. 

that after some sunlight, some rain, 

will explode and bloom across the page

with the colours and the wisdom of a sage. 



Second Place… Isabella Hale

The Book of Life By Isabella Hale

The book of life,

Lies still and silent……

Coated in a coarse layer of dust,

A musty smell surging through the air,

The book, undisturbed for years,

Gradually forced out of hibernation.

The uneasy feeling of change,

Brought about by the opening of the book.

With a meaning yet unclear,

It holds a selection of desires, that slither out throughout the progression of evolution. The hunger for adventure;

The belief of a soul changing moment;

And a path towards a new beginning.

Become at home with the rhythm

Of a new lifestyle.

And learn that sometimes the good things Fall apart; so the better things

Can come together.

So remember,

Every end, is just a new beginning.

Upon reflection;

Letting go of the past, and

Freeing oneself of their failures,

And their disappointments,

Leads to the embrace of a new perspective, A fresh look at the future,

And all the wonderful possibilities it holds.


Third Place… Anonymous Grade 11

Sitting idly in the backseat of the car

Felt no different on the way to put on a new skin And leave everything behind

Than driving to the supermarket,

Straight, roundabout, second exit on the left.

The Numb sat deep and purred in my chest when the girl I had lived with For six months sobbed on my shoulder, as if she

Were the one that would never again see the people she

became the first real version of herself with,

And I were the one coming back in a week and-a-half as short as a second.

Hearing the playlist I had carefully constructed for the plane Three months in advance didn’t make me cry

As I once thought.

Friendships fading into beige fabric, soon discarded or Thrown to the bottom of a drawer

Happened in the background of Life in the New Skin; Static crackling to a stop in a dim room nearby.

Sometimes I look into the small box in my mind that contains The uneven pavements

With eager blades of grass poking through holes

And the red walkway, the brightest shade of red in the world, Concealed in thick curtains of leaves.

Or the Water Bridge that belonged in a medieval kingdom, or heaven. The smell of the pond in the early evening,

Even the day when the sky turned pink.

They feel like a dream now,

Maybe they did even when I sat in the backseat of the car On that day,

Struggling to peer into the foggy future ahead,

The Numb sitting deep and purring still.


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