Thank you!

This year FCPL received an incredible number of outstanding submissions! Take a look at all of the fine poetry that our community has to offer! Winners of the contest will be notified prior to the awards ceremony.


I am holding the latest batch of ambrosia

The brown paper trembles in an unworthy grip

The crimson binding is tugged to the side

The container gives and it's contents are freed

I take one into my hand and drop it in my throat

Instantly, the most beautiful thoughts beckon

I finish the first and start after another

And another, and four more

Every hit is ecstasy

Senses explode into stars and space

The universe opens up before long

I never need anything beyond this

These slivers of infinity in physical form

Immediately, come the beggars

Those who want to prey on my sweet

The desperate ones

But they're not as desperate as I

My hands tell me so

I fend them off in my euphoria

Hiding my treasure away to enjoy at leisure

As I-

Dude, they're just goddamn cookies!

“YUP! And they're my goddamn cookies! She made 'em for me, get your own!”

...My bounty, my rules.

--Darelle H., Adult

If Only Once Again

If only once again we could both walk through that beautiful green meadow like we used to.

I would certainly be so very happy with joy.

If only once again we could both walk through that beautiful green meadow to talk like we used to.

We would talk about so many things.

If only once again we could laugh like we used to.

We would laugh so hard we would make ourselves cry with joy and laughter.

If only once again we could both walk through that beautiful green meadow just to be with each other.

If only once again to talk, to laugh, to hug each other, and to tell each other how much we love each other and how much we miss each other.

If only once again.

For everyone who has lost a loved one, let me walk that beautiful green meadow with you.

Because I have been there too.

--Olga R., Adult



Smell the green trees
Hear the birds chirp
See the buzzing bees
Feel the gentle breeze
That is when I know it is spring!

Taste the lemon, as it is sour
Watch the sun move every hour
Each time that I leap
I can feel the fresh cut grass beneath my feet
That is when I know it is spring!

Watch the clouds as they create an illusion
They never leave me with doubt or confusion
Smell the flowers and their beautiful scent
Daisies, lilies, and tulips, there is no argument!
That is when I know it is spring!

Feel the night’s air against my body, it feels like bliss
For when winter comes, this will be what I will miss
Rain or shine, warm or fresh
I feel the spring sensation through my flesh
That is when I knew it was spring!

Spring, my most favorite of the seasons
I hope you enjoyed hearing my reasons.

--Julia R., Adult

On the Artisanal Craft of Pencil Sharpening for Artists, Writers, Contractors, Flange Turners, and Anglesmiths.

Today on a walk to nowhere particular,
I came across a book at the library by David Rees
On how to sharpen pencils.
This book examined many ways
Shearing wood and graphite
Could be beneficial to those
Who cared to read. The book
Stood on its edge—ostentatious
Like a barefoot poet in a sandwich board
On the splinters of a windswept pier…

My life as a pencil would be similar
To my life now. At the beginning,
I am not sure what coincidence
Of mining, free trade and lumberjacks
Brought me into existence,
But I am in need of sharpening
Before I am useful. I need a hand
To fit into; I need manipulation.
Once I get going, I hope to create something
More than just a desperate gibberish.
But I’m an idea guy; I’m what you grab
When you know you are going to make a mistake.
And when I get dull, as I am want to do,
Then slice me down until I’m gone—
Either broken or worn to a nub.

I guess I became a pencil there for a minute.
Sometimes that can happen if you aren’t careful—
If you aren’t really ready to commit to something
And put it down in ink.

--Chris T., Adult