I’m weird and you may be too, there is something different about me and you, I have been told all my life, that I’m too tall to be 11, that I’m a giant, there is something beyond my height, that you need to see, cause I’m 11 and I’m not 15, I know I’m tall, no need to keep saying, I have heard it enough in my 11 years, have you tried basketball? Maybe I don’t like it, I am blessed, keep saying I’m tall, keep saying I’m a giant, none of your words will change my height, so stop saying it cause duhhh I know, it’s my body and I know I grow, I may be taller than you, so stop ranting, doesn’t matter what height, tall or short, so yeah I’m tall what’s it to ya? no matter what height, we’re all human we’re all different, especially me.
Are you looking for Vision+Voice? Maybe you want to submit a poem? Read a poem? Look at last year’s winning poets? Point your browser to the new home of the K through 12 poetry competition:
Why did we move, you ask? Well, we’re growing, both in the number of schools that are included in the Vision+Voice family, but also in the types of projects we’re creating.
My original idea for Vision+Voice was to include all the schools and ISDs in the ACC service area, celebrating the visions and voices in our communities. We’re aiming for that goal, adding schools every week! If you know of a private school, public school, school school, or even home-school school — let them know about us! Our competition is open to any K-12 student in the ACC service area! We want you!
2017-18 was an exciting year for Vision+Voice. We were able to offer our first ACC scholarship to one of our authors, who is attending ACC this fall! (Majoring in — wait for it — creative writing!) We want to keep up that tradition, and we could use your help. Support Vision+Voice! We have many community partners, including Malvern Books, Austin Classical Guitar Society, and of course KLRU — not to mention our old friend, AISD. But we want you in our family, too! Let me know if you’d like to partner with us.
Since 2013, we’ve been bringing you the visions and voices of our K-12 poets. But our vision always included other voices, too. This year, we’re working on an inspiring new project with men and women who have served our country in the armed forces. We want vets to have a voice here, so we’re creating a memoir project. More on that project as it develops!
Please visit us again. We’ll let you know more about our new ideas as they develop. And if you have ideas for Vision+Voice, we want to hear from you! Email me at mdaude@austincc.edu.
Finally, to our rising poets, here’s an old one: Write on.
Matthew
Matthew Daude Laurents, Ph.D.
Dean, Liberal Arts: Humanities and Communications
Each year since the beginning of Vision+Voice five years ago, I have looked forward to the reception. We unveil the posters that unite our V+V poets’ work with ACC art student creations. We hand out the coveted anthology of the year’s poems. We’re treated to our poets reading their poems, to congratulations and addresses by dignitaries like Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Cruz, thank-you’s to parents and teachers. And we have really, really good food.
Right to left (I think): Dr. Cruz, Brad Richard, me, Polly Monear (the Executioner), and of course, Dr. Joker Rhodes. There’s one in every crowd.
This year’s reception was especially lovely, with a return appearance by Brad Richard, whose reflections on the V+V poems brought tears to my eyes. (And I wasn’t the only one.) Brad has done so much for poetry that it’s hard to know where to begin a thank-you note. Maybe this will be a start?
As I told Dr. Rhodes at the reception, a great idea without a great team to make it come true is a day-dream. I have so many people to thank for making Vision+Voice the blaring celebration it is. Where to start? Of course there’s our poets and artists, whose visions and voices are everything. There’s our creative writing students, who read and relish each and every poem on the way to selection. There are countless teachers on whose work our work depends. (If you’re reading this, thank a teacher!) There are parents who support kids to dream, and then dream bigger.
But there’s also my team, past and present, hanging posters and arranging anthologies, and watching the kids faces when they see themselves on the Big Screen. You are amazing.
One of the gifts all of you give me is that I get to walk around, laugh with people, cry at Brad’s reflections, take in the visions and voices, and eat great food. (The cajun edge to the wings was amazing — but then again, you can’t go wrong with Sharrion, Travis, and Chef Coi.)
Original art by Alchemy, author of “Whale,” V+V 2017-18
And then, there’s Alchemy, one of our poets. Picture me, with little or no actual responsibility except to take in the joy you see on every V+V poet’s face.
So, there I am, loving everything about this evening, wading through poetry and poets, people with plates and proud parents — and Alchemy hands me this original work of art.
Thanks, Alchemy!
And there’s you, Polly. What can I say. You slay me.
Yes, V+V friends, that’s it for now. We aren’t taking any more submissions this year. But there’s good news!
First, we have published 520 submitted poems! 520 is awesome. If you converted these poems into string cheese, you could put cheese on 823 foot-long hot dogs. (This is based on the average length of the poems we got this year. Some were short and some were long; the average was 19 inches of poem.)
Second, our judges are hard at work eating hot dogs!
No, seriously. They’re hard at work reading all the great poems you submitted! We’ll unveil our picks soon.
And there’s more good news. If you didn’t submit a poem this year, don’t worry, because next year, Vision+Voice. Will. Be. Back.
My memories are photographic
Never worded
Always seen
Containing glimpses of the past
coated in stardust and sunbeams
The cold and empty vessel still haunts me
not the belief that it scared me
but that I can still see it
Sunshine through the trees
on the baby beaches
Provide me with a photo of happiness
times never forgotten.
The photos I keep within are
who
I
Am
Sandy beaches
Hope
Stardust
Moonbeams
Fairy tales
Love
Family
They all stand vivid in my mind
never to share with anyone
except
you
From coves of deep blue to blinding true light
This beach is now falling asleep
For the small girl will appear here tonight
And return to her cove, her home to keep
The sun will shine and the sky will be blue
Her heart will take flight and soar on the high
Salty winds that take her closer to you
When night falls she drifts off to a sweet land
Closes her eyes and smiles bright; for she knows
She will soon be on the beach with your hand
Holding hers and skipping, her face a rose
But now she sleeps under mother’s sweet face
And dreams and dreams and dreams of her true place.
She doesn’t cry because she doesn’t like wasting time
on pointless pleas for sentiments never shared
sympathies stolen
and things never given.
She remembers bits of words and lots of letters
the soft and wrinkled edges of notebook paper
Gentle curves between the lines
anxious turning…
Check the time.
When she writes, her eyes go blind and somehow
she feels lost.
In a place that is entirely her own
to share and to hide
I don’t think she minds.
But when she stops and breathes out slowly
Bites her lips and turns the pencil she’s holding
with nails that gnaw into skin
I am terrified.
She promises not to cry but
Nobody’s listening
Everything wants a say
and all their little voices and little faces
Make her so afraid.
The waves that build inside her eyes
make me think she isn’t blind.
Instead she must want to be
away
I’m watching you buckle and falter,
Giving in, weakly, to the voracity of flame.
Do you remember when I molded you,
How carefully I folded you?
Only to give, coldly, you who lacked blame,
To the sacrifice and pain of my altar.
If the game is creation, I am the defaulter,
I’ve burned what I built for the sake of my name.
But do you remember how I held you,
How gently I shelled you,
From a world more callous than tame?
An irony before cruelty, for you, my exalter—
For you, who still falter,
For you, who collapse under flame.
Do you remember how I called you?
Do you feel it now I scald you?
Say my name, say my name,
My exalter.
