Announcing the Winners of the 2025 Frog Hollow Poetry Prize

Because sometimes, just sometimes, poetry means fame and glory and cold hard cash

Every other spring, Frog Hollow runs a poetry prize for poets ages 13 and under. Students can choose to enter a poem or be a judge, and we accept entries from children anywhere. This year, we got over sixty entries, from poets between the ages of 2 and 13, mostly from the Seattle area, but also elsewhere.

I split the entries into three groups, each read by a group of judges. Each judge picked their top four. Poems that got at least three votes went on to the finals, which were read by all the judges, who could pick their top three.

And now, after much consideration, we have the winners!

1st Place

Ode to the Squirrel

By Winston Plummer, age 11

The squirrel, a tiny little Viking,
stealing hidden food stashes
and taking over bird feeders
like a criminal mastermind.
The squirrel,
a cute, tiny creature
with a tail like
a poofy pine tree
and eyes like an obsidian stone.
The squirrel,
a mini and hairy version of Tom Cruise,
jumping from tall trees
and always landing on their feet.
The squirrel,
a kind little creature
that I adore so much.

2nd Place

Something You Should Know…

By Vivaan K., age 12

I grew up reading books, thousands of books, millions on words, millions of worlds,
I watched words swim across the pages coming alive and dancing to to an unknown tune,
I am watching birds gracefully flit across the sky landing in the grateful bows of a maple tree to peck at the sod, looking for unknown bugs and worms.
Which makes me think
about how small we are
Grains of sand in the endless desert of life…
Perhaps even that big maple tree is just a lump of sand…
And so am I putting words on this page, giving it life, giving it character, making something,
From nothing,
perhaps that ant is too tirelessly toiling towards trees as tall as towers through bird infested grounds
Even if we are all just grains of sand we can still make a dent in our part of the world
A dent in life.

3rd Place

Echo of Absence

By Cora Clifford, age 11

In a world that sees right through me
I walk in silence, my presence free
Unseen by eyes, I drift and sway
Invisible in the light of day.
I do not talk or play or chat
With anyone but me
It’s lonely being invisible
I wish I could be seen.
But when I try to interact
With the world around me
All I get is blank-eyed stares
From the people that surround me.
Invisibility is not something you should wish for
It’s a curse, I assure you – one that I am under
I leave no footprints where I walk
My words are silent when I talk
This isn’t something that you want!
But then one chilly afternoon
I turn the corner
Much too soon
And bump into a kid about your age.
I started at what happened next
He turned around and dipped his hat
And as he stroked his furry cat
I swear, for just one moment,
He could see me.

Honorable Mentions:

Auditions

By Eowyn Lawrence, age 12

Walking into the gym
Sitting on the floor
As Mr. Eric asks
Who wants to go first?
The first volunteer hops up onto the stage
Sings a melody I cannot remember
Cheering and clapping
Fear dampens the sound
Crashes over and around me like a wave
Who wants to go next?
The next person climbs up
Meanwhile my heartbeat in my throat
Is as quick as a frightened rabbit
My breath racing as fast as my heart
My limbs shake
Blood pounds through my head
Names fly by, faces, tunes
While I sit and wait, sit and wait
Microphone or no? lyrics or no?
These are what Mr. Eric asks each volunteer
It’s all a blur
It feels like shards of memories
Punctuated by wonder, dread, and more
My thoughts are like a tornado
Sucking up everything
Shattering it in a whirlwind of anxiety
I raise my hand
I am shaking as I climb up onto the stage
Accept the microphone
And deny lyrics
I remember opening my mouth
Words fly out
Making a bold choice with each one
The adrenaline and fear shifts
Into something else entirely
Something that demands attention
Fills my whole body with something else

War Chant

By Niren Madhan, age 12

Sword! Spear! Axe and Shield!
Whip and Lasso, crack and fly!
War is a-coming,
the time is nigh!
For blood! For glory!
Slashing! Clashing! Lashing!
as battle cries rise,
we fight for ones we’ve lost,
we fight for what’s to gain,
at break of dawn, the battle is raging,
by sun or storm a war is a-waging.
So onwards soldiers!
Onwards we march!
We draw our blades, and onwards we fight!
We fight for day, and we fight for night!
Slash and hack!
Batter and sack!
Scatter and dash!
Swipe and smash!
We ready our weapons,
We fight for what’s right.
In the face of darkness
we raise our swords!
we battle Kings, Queens and Lords.
So heft your axes,
draw your daggers,
and never, ever let tyranny rise.
In the midst of death, deceit and lies,
we hurl our spears and stab our blades.
So rise my fighters!
Rise and fight,
fight for freedom, for justice and light!!!

Great Oak Tree

By Gwen Petzing, age 12

Eyes blue
Like she’s trying to
Give me a clue
To come closer to her
Using them like a lure
To get to know her better
To spend all our time together
To let our hands intertwine
Sit under a pine
To hold on tight
Throughout our fights
Her name, Violet
Her warm hug is like a blanket
Wraps around me
Like leaves on a tree
Her voice is as soft as rain
Her voice heals all my pain
Her smile lights me up like the sun
Except it’s always there for me when the day is done
Her voice, a melody so soft so sweet
It makes me feels whole and complete
She is an angel helping everyone in need
And planting a hopeful seed
That will one day, turn into a great oak tree
Where we will sit forever, gratefully

The Day Was Sunny

By Rory S., age 6

The day was sunny.
I saw a bunny.
I loved the bunny.
So I gave it honey.

Some notes on the experience

It’s interesting being on the inside of the process of a literary competition. I’m the only one who knows which poet wrote which poems. I tally the votes, and decide on the process (if anyone has a better one, I’m all ears). So I get to see all the machinary in what is mostly a very opaque process, at least from the other side. As a writer, I enter contests, and just send work out on submission, all the time. It’s always felt a little random.

And folks, it is!

Which is not to say our winning poems aren’t winners. “Ode to the Squirrel” was a runaway favorite, and rightly so. It’s just that there could so easily have been other winners as well. The difference between advancing to the finals or not often came down to one vote, and some poems that squeaked in then did quite well. A poem I personally love, the kind of work that gives me goosebumps, wasn’t a finalist. And the poem by the two-year-old was so fresh and cool!

I don’t introduce much competition into my classes, because it tends to just bum people out. But literary contests are a huge part of the literary world at large, and I think it’s both fun and edifying for my students to get to see how they work from the inside. Also, there are fewer venues than their should be for children’s writing, and one thing I realized in the last few years — a covid epiphany — is that we are culture. So if we want or need something culturally, we can make it happen.

But mostly it’s exciting to honor kids’ voices.