So, my older daughter, Ana, refuses to let us call her a writer.
Despite the fact that back in August she received this letter:
|(Click to embiggen and read)|
Still, Ana will tell you, she LOATHES writing. And she will say it just like that, because she is 14 and articulate and she feels strongly about things.
Loathing writing didn't stop her from winning first prize for poetry in the Huntington Youth Writes Contest for grades 6-8, though.
FIRST FREAKING PLACE!!!
There were 1,500 entries.
I'm so proud of that little non-writer, I could burst.
|She may loathe writing, but she liked the frozen yogurt with which we celebrated her win.|
There's an awards ceremony in May and she'll be awarded a $100 check and her work will be published along with the other winning entries in some sort of publication put out by the town.
Here's her winning entry:
You Remind Me of a Certain Summer Sonnet
by Ana Cooper
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Like my bare feet on a burning sidewalk,
And staying inside when it’s too hot to play.
You are the dryer that eats only one sock.
You compare nicely to ants at a cookout,
Eating the food before anyone can touch it.
You are the lifeguard that fails to be a lookout.
You are the ice cream I drop before I can clutch it.
You are the pasty legs sticking out of shorts in disgrace,
And sticking to car seats hotter than an oven.
And more maddening than mosquitoes that maul my face,
Or crowds at a concert, cursing and shoving.
Like a rotten actor in a bad summer movie,
You promise kindness, but deliver envy.
(With apologies to William Shakespeare)