This week, the Georgia Poet Laureate’s prize was announced by the Georgia Council for the Arts alongside Georgia Poet Laureate Chelsea Rathburn.
The prize is awarded for an original poem written by a Georgia high school student. This annual program is designed to encourage students in grades nine through 12 to write original poems and engage in the art form of poetry.
“Georgia’s Poet Laureate’s Prize has been encouraging participation in the arts for the last 10 years, and we are always amazed by the ingenuity, creativity, and talent of students across the state,” said Georgia Council for the Arts Executive Director Tina Lilly. “Art is about self-expression, and every student who participated in this year’s contest embraced the challenge of making a personal statement through poetry. We are thankful for the many teachers and schools who supported these students along the way.”
More than 200 students participated in the competition. 4 students were named finalists, and Eniola Badejo was awarded the top prize.
“Judging the Poet Laureate’s Prize is a difficult yet rewarding task. Along with celebrating our winner and finalists, I want to recognize the talents and techniques of the fine young poets across the state,” said Georgia Poet Laureate Chelsea Rathburn. “As I read and re-read this year’s entries, I could hear so many individual voices and unique stories, reminding me once again of poetry’s power to connect people across time and space.”
All Georgia students are eligible to enter the contest. Submission details for the 2024 competition will be released in the fall. You can read the finalists’ poems here.
“Right Here”
By Eniola Badejo
You’re gazing out the bus window when you see it.
November. Rocking on the horizon like a storm
cloud ready to burst.
Yesterday or the day before that, the brewing
Monét painting outside would have consumed you.
Another November?
With a to-do list thickening like weeds sprawling across Eden?
With a frost tracing winds harboring such heavy howls?
“You’re lonely, you’re lonely, you’re lonely, you’re—!”
But today is different.
Light ricochets on your lap the same way it did
the last time laughter streamed from your
mouth like juice from a pomegranate.
Watching it pour from the window knocks the wind right out of you.
You’re finally ready to let it all go, you realize.
The fatigue rotting under your fingernails.
The vengeance hiding in the fractures of your lips.
Could hope be coming back? Right here?
On a Thursday morning drenched in sweat?
You start unraveling.
No more waking up with apologies caked on my eyelids.
Peeling.
No more teeth grinding into sand behind an assembly line smile.
Tearing.
You get so close you can hear the water running.
You can see the steam rise over the stove.
November is coming, and you can do it this time.
You shiver as your spine cracks in half.
I can start all over again, you whisper.
Right here.