We are thrilled to announce the winners of our first Public Art Poetry Contest, selected by our distinguished judge, Fairfax County Poet Laureate Angelique Palmer!
Choosing the winners was no easy task. We received an inspiring collection of beautiful, evocative poems from talented community members of all ages and experience levels, each reflecting a unique connection to the public artworks throughout Reston. The creativity, insight, and imagination shared through these submissions made this inaugural contest truly special.
By Ella Schwartz (Amateur – 12-17 years old)
It’s a new day
And like clockwork there is the sun.
We both rise early.
It follows me as my feet hit the pavement.
As I run, mile after mile.
It’s warmth on my face like a pat on my back
When my feet stop, my breath continues
Until it slows.
As I head for home, I nod to the sun.
It’s still got work to do.
Each day that it appears, its brings a new beginning
A blank page, a new start, rewriting and redoing
Bringing hope and erasures.
Days may be hard
Imperfect and difficult.
But each one ends
Just as the sun completes its shift.
By Deborah Davidson (on behalf of a 5 year-old or younger author)
We call him Bob.
“Hi, Bob!” we say as we approach the lake.
Or sometimes, to be honest, we think he’s real.
“Can’t sit there today, someone’s using the bench.”
But, no, it’s just old Bob, hanging out as always.
Named the town after himself.
I whisper in his ear:
“Is this what you dreamed of?
Are we keeping it alive?”
But he forgets to answer.
He’s busy wondering why
The lake is forever out of his view.
By Jennifer Addie Quarrie (Amateur – 18+ years old)
Within the energetic tumult of intention
Searching a multitude of wavelengths
An instant of clear connection
Before singularity is swept away again
Searching a multitude of wavelengths
For the language of heart above mind
Before singularity is swept away again
Thoughts colliding never to separate
For the language of heart above mind
Spoken with the lightness of air
Thoughts colliding never to separate
The spectrum collapsing back into white
Spoken with the lightness of air
Carrying perception’s heavy density
The spectrum collapsing back into white
Saying nothing and everything at once
Carrying perception’s heavy density
Within the energetic tumult of intention
Saying nothing and everything at once
An instant of clear connection
By Ellen Fay First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
The boat has taken many children far from the shores of Lake Anne
The number of sailings are far too numerous to count
No license required
Just a “boat load” of imagination
And courage to face the windy seas
No age requirement
Just a desire to take command
And travel to the farthest corners of one’s mind
At last the trip is over
And a child emerges onto the promenade
Where they exit with renewed hope
And joy
From an adventure fulfilled!
By Hania Qutub (Amateur/First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
Away to another sky
where there is no injustice
tugging at your wings
spread them wide
soaring above our rooftops
swift trails of light follow in your wake
billowing arrows of love
weaving braids of hope
flying low then high
a mourning coo as you see our suffering
we will see you on the other side
where there are no drones and no bombs
and together we will be
in peace
Your creativity, thoughtfulness, and unique talents made this inaugural celebration of poetry and public art truly meaningful, and we hope to have you again in our next contest.
By Virginia Busby (Amateur – 18+ years old)
The actual human heart,
monstrously pumping,
maybe struggling,
is a far better metaphor
than silly shapes.
Stuff goes in. It’s pumped out.
Why do these mechanics work?
Energy from elsewhere
and creating energy.
There is no one logic.
A system, yet it seems magical.
It’s not beautiful in its operation
yet glorious!
Let us marvel at the monstrosity of love.
By Sierra Adams (Amateur – 18+ years old)
I steered the ship through storm and tide,
While love sat quiet at my side.
A copilot once, now just dead weight,
He jumped aboard, but not to navigate.
The thought creeped in, “This isn’t love.”
Not the kind I’ve been dreaming of.
Not war, not pride, not who’s the best –
Just peace, just calm, just needed rest.
Now the ship feels light, the sea’s grown still,
The sun peeks out beyond the hill.
His things tossed out, one by one –
I sail alone, but not undone.
I float along, the fish as my guide
The moon bright – the tide high
In my heart, the quiet truth;
I hold so much love for all of you.
You that serve to anchor;
who keep me steady and sound –
Who remind me who I am
even when he’s not around.
We no longer race,
instead we drift side by side.
Illuminating the sky, full clarity-
Solitude to solidarity.
By Sierra Adams (Amateur – 18+ years old)
In the quiet moments next to him,
I crave your scent.
These memories are not dreams,
you’re haunting me
I long for you like I do torn sneakers from childhood.
With sentiment but now without need
I reminisce to when falling was exciting
Before my body braced for fear.
How does one forget the impact?
The confusion when the ground approaches near?
When there’s no where to fall
but down.
Nowhere to hide,
so you seize the ache.
No one who can save you,
but you scream out anyways
Why are we so reckless with our hearts,
jumping over and over again?
I smell your skin in my memories
and for a moment –
I forget why I stopped playing
so close to the ledge
By Sierra Adams (Amateur – 18+ years old)
Through rolling hills of windows –
I notice you.
A shadow at first, hiding behind drops of rain
you dance into frame
the glow of red on my face –
I wait.
I watch you
sensing your energy.
No fear of your awareness
I’m too far to be seen.
I soak in your presence
As natural as the need to be free.
You float around your kitchen floor
Glide with a smile that could warm the city.
A stranger catches me staring like a fool
“Oh bless her soul – have pity”.
The weight in my stomach shifts –
I yearn for you softly.
Small guilt creeps in
thoughts drift.
I hope you don’t mind
that I watch quietly
You’ll never know, I invaded your space with my gaze
That secret is between me and the moon
You’ll never know me but I hope you feel –
The prayer I spoke for you.
By Sierra Adams (Amateur – 18+ years old)
The rush of feelings flow through my veins.
Life cuts too deeply not to bleed on others
Will self control lead me away from my pain?
I will die without you, my lover.
This love feels electric, I don’t want it to end.
I want to bathe in it.
Will you be my everything, forever?
I will die for you, only because you felt like comfort.
A flame that burns bright will end quickly.
Only a nourished fire can keep us warm.
Who lit the match? Who added the gasoline?
I would die before I admit, we never built a home.
Streams split, branches break, hills collapse.
The questions run dry; I have accepted.
Death will not come, without learning a lesson.
By Deborah Davidson (Amateur – 18+ years old)
I’ll tell you a secret.
Do not share it.
I have a password
(I mean, don’t we all?)
I chose it because I live in Reston.
Because I love to walk its paths,
And there are so many of them…
Fifty-five miles worth, in fact.
And that’s it.
That’s the secret.
The secret password is:
“Fifty-five Miles.”
I have another secret.
You can share it.
I forgot what the password is for.
So I will walk the miles and forget about passwords,
And remember why I live in Reston.
By Lia’s Mama – aided by daughter Lia ((First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
Worries fly away
when my kids come home to play
In Reston hearts stay
By Laura Beth Hooper (First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
Her hull moans as grasping waves threaten to pull her
Under.
She spins beneath roiling clouds.
Wind roars, tearing at her sails,
Pulling at the fibers of her rigging.
Soon she is lost to all
But the struggle to stay afloat.
Impossible to hear messages of hope or succor.
All she can do it fight
For her next minute,
Her next moment,
Her next breath
Until the gales slow to exhales,
Until walls of water shorten into ledges,
Until the helm responds to her desperate touch,
Until finally,
Finally,
Finally
A glimpse of sky on the horizon.
By Hunter Guthrie First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
In the break of day, I catch a glimpse
An ephemeral wink
At evening, my eyes return upward
Again, you show off
A giver of land, of sea, of nature
An asker of respect
You are changing, though
It’s palpable
Rain is harder and the sun is warmer
Respect is continually denied
You metamorphosize and withhold
A dearth – extinction
As takers, take – hands are wrung
But not by all
The gap widens, from what once was
Do chances remain?
By Nav Sohi (Professional – 18+ years old)
Each heart imprinted on these pages,
only differed in design,
the variation so slight,
most wouldn’t have noticed
that I accepted them all.
Starving souls
find comfort in a warm embrace,
or a word of praise is savored
and cherished like trophies.
Filling an empty heart
becomes an act of devotion
and I have many in my collection
even though some were fleeting,
the wear and tear apparent
as slight tears became holes
and others dutifully patched them
with surgical stiches,
to keep me whole.
By Sydney Guthrie (First-time poem writer – 18+ years old)
In the early sunlight
brought by a new dawn
I dream of acceptance.
In a quiet moment
while I wait in lines,
I see our commonalities.
In busy train stations
with bustle abound
I search for connections.
We are more alike
than different
More together
than divided
Waiting to be seen,
heard and accepted
Together,
we move towards the same light
brought by a new dawn
I dream.
By Mark Marion (Amateur- 18+ years old)
Outside, where love happens most.
Between the parking lot and the door,
in the weather,
with everyone watching
or no one.
Someone decided this—
a mid-chapter,
forever almost-finished thought.
The rest—
what we will never know—
belongs to the sculptor.
Plenty of answers steps away,
just not for this.
What was the question?
The usual, probably:
who we are to each other.
The foxes have opinions
but keep them quiet.