First Prize Poetry 2005:
Two Worlds, Two Dreams
by Andrea, Colombia/Florida, Age 17

Colombia, forgotten paradise
Your drum beats pulsate through my veins
In your soil my tangled roots are buried
Shadows dawn on your brighter days
Your oceans however tainted are pure
Your people however hopeless can smile
Snowy mountain peaks with buried treasures
Melt into the emerald sea and vanish
Infamous are your poison and danger
Fear forever carried in your name
Obscured beauty lies in your culture
Masked by unbearable pain
Colombia, my Nostalgic Dream
Bearer of my divine youth
Of the sway of my hips,
The shape of my native tongue,
My ceaseless desire,
My burning love.

America, colossal melting pot
Home of the free and the brave
Into your prosperity we leaped
Finally approaching our brighter days
Your power however condemned is invincible
Your culture however phony is modeled
Like King Midas with your touch
Vast open lands you turned into gold
Skyscrapers line the horizon
Hiding the great balls of fire
Yet stars are visible in your walk of fame
These your people will always admire
America, my American Dream
Bearer of my unpredictable future
Of the countless open doors,
The thriving competition to succeed,
My relentless ambition,
My undying gratitude.

Andrea on life between cultures: The hardest thing about balancing two cultures is adapting to one without losing the other. In the process of doing so, a person can often lose their sense of identity. Although I was born in the United States, I moved to Colombia when I was only a few months old and did not move back to Miami until I was twelve years old. I wanted to speak English as well as all my American friends, but I did not want to lose my Spanish. That was one of the most difficult parts of adapting. The best part of being an immigrant is being able to enjoy and appreciate the best of both worlds. Miami has a large Latin- American community and amongst that community, I feel entirely at home. Everything is familiar: the food, the music, the language. Outside that community, there is a whole new culture to explore and learn from, one which offers infinite opportunities. That is the best part of being an immigrant.

Second Prize Poetry 2005:
Dynasty or Wang Jo
by Katherine, Korea/Georgia, Age 17

I am from broken English
        embarrassing language faux-pas
                   and spelling errors
                              from grandmother who tries so hard.
I am from bamboo chopsticks and rice
       from ginseng tea
               and herbal remedies
                       concocted by loving ancient hands
                                 molded by a lifetime of experience.
I am from myths and legends
            from the Bear and the Tiger
                        and the mystics and magic
                                    monks, temples, and dragons.
I am from soft silk dresses
            whose spirits have danced
                        to traditional steps
                                    have bowed to the imperial court
                                                on New Year’s Day.
 
The legacy of Asian dynasties.
 
I am from Simon and Garfunkel
    the sounds of silence
              in the backseat of cross-country roadtrips
                      chatting with Daddy
                             gleefully teasing and playing pranks
                                    while Mommy and Dennis snore.
I am from Beethoven and Chopin
        while reading Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost
                   when words just wash over my wistful mind.
I am from Thanksgiving at Grandma’s house
     from Christmas at Uncle’s
          pumpkin pie, turkey, and ham
                    from walking down 42nd with cousins
                               talking as white clouds escape
                                           mingling and lingering
                                                   in the shrewd brisk air.
I am from original sin
      from forbidden apples
            from Snow White and Walt Disney
                  with Mouseketeer ears
                       and the Mickey Mouse cult
                           from 2-mile walks up the hill bothways
                                 and bright yellow buses.
I am from plastic
    perfect pink Barbies
             and masculine Ken
                       from Cupcake Doll
                                     and playing house and school.
 
I am from the Fall Classic
            9th-inning rallies
                        game 7 adrenaline
                                    and the Yankee dynasty.
 
The hallmark of the American hegemon.
 
I am from this odd hybrid
            an overlap between the Venn Diagram
                        of east and west
the mixing of two opposites
            an alloy of two unmixable metals
 
                                                            but are they?

Katherine on life between cultures: The hardest thing about balancing two cultures is the struggle to find an identity between the two cultures without compromising the integrity and value of either one. An immigrant is a bridge between two ways of life and has the unique ability to fully understand and operate under two ways of thinking.

Third Prize Poetry 2005:
Lumpia and Cornbread
by Billimarie, Philippines/America, Age 17

It's about having to ask for the Lumpia and the cornbread, not some
Separate course, some ironic divorce
Between the forced joining of the loved and the loveless

It's about taking both the Lumpia and the cornbread, because
Within this faceless world's view, this hue
Of just white, black, yellow, brown and red--
Am I just dead?
Or do I blend in so well with the colors on my plate?

Can you pass the Lumpia and the cornbread?
Because my heart needs two for beating
Two for one whole meal and feeling
And when it comes time for feeding
That's exactly what I'm needing