April poetry contest results!


Dempsey Howicz

St. Edward Poets: Fr. Blood, Ms. Adams, Louis Banet, Lily Burger, and Joey Lee.

Kimberly Aguirre, Staff Reporter

As National Poetry Month ended, we chose Louis Banet’s poem as the first place winner in our poetry contest. Congratulations Louis on the sequel of “Humble Potato.” Some other honorable mentions are “When I say ‘I love you’ by Joseph Lee, “Cleo (Maybe the Egyptian Queen, Maybe Just my Cat)” by Lily Burger, and “Salt in the Wound” by Fr. Blood and Ms. Adams. Thank you all for sending in your poems!


“The Humble Potato”

By Louis Banet


The humble potato,

filled with care.

I told him a joke,

And he just sat there.


And the long-awaited sequel:

“The Humble Potato 2”

By Louis Banet


The humble potato

Void of pride

I told him a story

But he fell on his side




Honorable Mentions:


When I Say “I Love You”


it can serve as a placeholder

for the words I cannot convey.

A substitute for all my thoughts

too complex to articulate.


“I love you” means that I adore

the nuances within your eyes-

however long I explore them,

there’s always more I seem to find.


It means I will forever hear

the sweetness in all our silence.

We find comfort without babble,

never awkward in the quiet.


It means that your every heartbeat

proves to serve as my metronome.

Keeping me evermore on track

when I’d be lost if on my own.


Therefore, when I say “I love you,”

it’ll never be an empty phrase.

Mountains stand behind each word

as I slowly work out what to say.


By Joseph Lee



Cleo (Maybe the Egyptian Queen, Maybe Just my Cat)

By Lily Burger


Little yellow eyes peer from the dark

Searching for something

She stalks along the hallway

with a royal air


Her silent paws

Land agile and lithe

On top of her perch

She is a queen surveying her subjects


Her loving subjects offer up their tributes:

A scratch behind the ear there

A belly rub as she stretches out here

A sprinkle of that oh-so-divine smelling catnip on her nose


Later she’ll barge into her servant’s rooms

Ordering she be scratched promptly

And the servants will stir from their slumber

Only to shut the door in her face, the utter disrespect!


Wait, what’s that? Oh- she fell off the cat tree again

Gracefulness lost; embarrassment gained

No longer a princess better than everyone else

Just a silly little cat



Salt in the Wound

By Fr. Blood and Ms. Adams  


Around the bend longing for a salty encounter

Caught by the vest who makes dreams a reality

They aren’t just a side to me

Rather the reason for the drive


Waiting waiting waiting

Emerging from the window

My hope coming to fruition,

Yet so quickly they’ve been demolished


I feel empty.

Hollow. Abandoned. Forlorn.

Grasping for more, but there’s nothing there

Dipping beyond a golden sunset, hitting rock bottom


My soul is downcast within me

As my dream turns to a nightmare

I just the stare at the void before me

Wondering how it all slipped through my fingers


Out of the corner I hear the crinkle

Wind drawing me back to the source

I was wrong.  Hope remains.

Three cheesy fries left behind to rejuvenate my spirit