If you were just thinking to yourself, “I wish I could’ve read the winning poems from our recent Spring Poetry Contest,” you have arrived in just the right place! This April, the Montrose Looking Glass Newspaper hosted a Spring poetry contest in commemoration of national poetry month, and our recent poet-in-residence! We were honored to have Theresa Montiero judge the contest and select our top three winners: Kate Cserny ‘31, Sarah Tea ‘30, and Abby Gavin ‘28, in addition to naming an honorable mention for Gabriella Dansereau ‘26. Please enjoy the winning poems below!

Spring Beauty 

By Kate Cserny ‘31

Up high, 

For unknown reasons why

A bird sings a sweet melody

The sky,

Is a light blue and is bright

With a few clouds floating around

But all of a sudden,

Things can change

And the sky turns a dull grey

The forest goes quiet

And a soft rains starts

Plink,

         Plinking,

                        Away

Its soothing,

But the world feels like it’s not moving

As a raindrop trickles down your face

And you wonder,

What a beauty this is

And you fall asleep at the roll of thunder

The First Seed 

By Abby Gavin ‘28

The day extends as winter ends and the birds are coming home 

All the creatures great and small start to gather as they roam 

The bees are buzzing gracefully sipping nectar on their way

And great brown bears are awakening as they watch the branches sway

The snow is finally gone, leaving flowers in its place 

Now the sun shines down upon us, blessing us with its warm embrace

Oh what a beautiful world that, continues to turn and turn 

And what a reward we receive for something we never earned 

Nature’s continued beauty is something we can never take for granted

To think over a thousand years ago, oh that first seed was planted.

What the World Remembers

By Sarah Tea ‘30

Spring does not rush in.

It loosens things slowly:

the soil, the air,

the tightness in your chest.

Even silence softens.

This is how it begins, in Spring.

The trees hesitate, then answer

with a green that feels remembered

more than new.

Rain touches everything,

as if learning each name again.

This is how the world returns in Spring.

A bird practices a song

it does not yet believe in,

its voice catching, starting over.

Still, it sings.

Still, it tries.

This is what it means to hope in Spring.

And you, without noticing,

leave the window open longer,

stand in the light a little more,

carry something fragile but alive,

not certainty, but possibility.

This is who you are becoming in Spring.

Feminae Fortes (Valiant Women)

By Gabriella Dansereau ‘26

Her brother killed her husband ‘cause of greed.

And then the throne the evil man had seized. 

Because of this she had been forced to flee.

So leaving Tyre behind she sailed to find

a place where she’d be safe from evil minds.

And after trav’ling far and wide, the queen 

arrived inside Tunisia’s boundaries.

At that location, she and her companions met

a local noble king, Iarbas, who had said

if she would give him gold, she could control

the land a cattle’s backside could enfold.         

And having paid the dues, again she ruled.

Her people treasured her as if she were a jewel.

When men would see her kingdom they would say

it teemed with bees who served their queen all day.

They worked on projects, which would bring, they hoped, 

great strength to this new land which they called home.

That Queen Dido, a woman with a mission,

just a ragged refugee fighting for her vision.

Like a worker facing Lochner Era competition,

she moiled through sodden soil with no restriction.

Just like Queen Penthesilea leading the Amazon tribe

into battle on behalf of the Trojan side,

sporting her golden belt, ax, and spear,

she delivered the Anatolians nothing but fear!

Like doctor Susan LaFlesche Picotte,

the daughter of the chief of the Omaha tribe,

traversed irenic contiguous land

to serve neglected Indigenous clans 

under the threat of insidious plans.

Her passage spanned zigzags of arboreal paths 

that even Atalanta might call laborious tasks!

Just like Fannie Hamer facing segregation

yet attaining equal voter registration.

Like Frankie’s frank demand to regulate thalidomide 

‘cause birth defects and hurt unsaid comprised the hidden price.

Who wrote didactic poems with emphatic tropes to exhort the French Court

to adopt her tactical blueprints for eliminating indefatigable hubris? 

A witty girl was Christine Pizan: the Prince’s “Pearl,” like Robia Scott.

All making change, like cyclohexane, they reacted

adapting conformations, flipping static atoms. 

Abrasive papers, smoothing edges of contempt,

they eclipsed opposition by dissipating friction.

A la propane’s unbreaking sigma bonds,

while facing hatred, they had stood up strong. 

These queens, their love of duty was so great;

Their beauty was the icing on the cake.

None of them went in the game just to win the fame.

Each day they made their way along unpaved terrain.

Never did they complain when they endured the pain.

Never did they claim to be entitled to something great,

nor to banners and accolades did they pin their names. 

From their manners you could tell they considered themselves Simple Janes. 

Article by Elisabeth Halberstadt ‘27, Co-Editor-in-Chief

27ehalberstadt@montroseschool.org