Breanne Pereira. Under the Sea Driveway. Grade 12, Age 17. 2011 Silver Medal, Photography.

Today is Poem In Your Pocket Day, and we’re celebrating it with Scholastic Award-winning poems from this year! Check them out, add them to your pockets, and share them with others throughout the day. To learn more about Poem in Your Pocket and how you can get involved, visit

The car stops, and you leap out
without waiting for me,
too eager to begin our lifelong tradition
of running down the driveway,
tree branches snatching at our faces,
soft moss on bare feet.
And I run, gasping, sprinting,
stumbling after you, until, at last
I reach the cabin, far behind you,
and, at last, we sprint down the rough-hewn
wooden stairs and onto the beach
of hard stones and sharp, dry seaweed—
a counterpoint to fine moss—
and we sift through pebbles
worn smooth by pounding surf
and twelve-foot seas in the winter,
and we search for elusive seaglass,
brother and sister left with memories
of days spent lounging in the sun, sitting on the rocks,
beachcombing on the way to Parker’s Point,
and I will treasure them all.

Parker Elkins, Grade 7, Edgecomb, ME
Center for Teaching & Learning
2013 Gold Medal


I Was Given the Moon
On the day I was born, I was given the moon,
All milky white and sprinkled with powder.
Its unblemished glow lit my way,
Cutting through the dark like a flashlight.

With time’s passage, the moon’s dusting rubbed off,
Exposing deep crevices and shadows.
It faded into blackness, a sliver at a time,
Robbing my world of light.

I gave up on my hopes and dreams and
Withdrew into the night,
Little knowing that the moon would come back,
Even brighter than before.

Elise Garner, Grade 8, Wilmington, DE
P.S. Dupont Middle School
2013 Silver Medal


Ode to Paint
Paint is a blanket
That wraps a beginning,
A magician
That conjures up sunsets,
Or perhaps a field
Where jackalopes and horned lions can graze

Paint is the cover
Of a brand new novel
With endless beginnings
And infinite ends

Paint is a fire
Able to warm hands but
Also able to spread
And destroy what took years to create

Paint is a liar
A medium
Through which the largest of hoaxes
Can be conceived

Paint is a menu
With too many choices
And not enough time

Paint is the question:
“Can you really see?”

Alexander Gimeno, Grade 8, Indianapolis, IN
Park Tudor School
2013 Gold Medal


When I opened a volume of poetry, I was surprised to find a worm.
Nested between the faded pages, it gnawed on a comma.
Has this worm found hope in Emily’s musings?
I’m jealous of this little bookworm
Who tasted ink as it burrowed under comforting pages.

– Julian Iralu, Grade 10, Gallup, NM
2013 Silver Medal


Bronx Rooftop Song
On the mansard roof, girls stick like flies
to the sloping shingles. Little buggers
with Lucy’s kaleidoscope eyes,
omniscient in the pinkening sky.

One-two: the neighbors shut their windows tight
to steep in inner dimming light. The dishes
stack up sweetly on the countertop.
Behind their curtains, couples fight

while girls sing love songs to the sky.
Their skirts flutter about their unlotioned thighs.
Their breath catches in their wreathing hair;
their ankles flex in the gutter where

their toes strain against dead leaves & silt
with a Balanchine air. One-two:
they let their stockings slip and fall
like burnt and blackened embers to the ground.

The boys below file by like sheep.
The girls’ throats test a reveille.
One-two: the neighbors shut their eyes;
they might have heard a lullaby.

– Gabriella Gonzales, Grade 11, New York, NY
Bard High School Early College
2013 Gold Medal

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