This year’s Moving Words Competition 2025 winning poems were selected from almost 500 poems by this year’s judge, Arlington Poet Laureate Courtney LeBlanc, who also has a poem on display. View the poems below and on Arlington’s ART buses from April through September 2025.
Winners
Marc Drexler, Joan Leotta, Gabby Gillam, Madelyn Rosenberg, Roberta Berry, Sunayna Pal, Deborah Ager
Honorable Mentions
Maya Ribault, Julie Brodie, Karina Lazorchak, Cristi Donoso, Rose Avent, Richard N. Mott, Shelley Dutton, Jennifer L. Blanck, Deborah Ager, Joan Leotta, Aleck Solorzano, Kat Flores, Mariel Herbert, Amy Dougher-Solorzano
Poet Laureate Poem
Winter Solstice
By Courtney LeBlanc
Poet Laureate of Arlington, Virginia
We’re inching closer, the slow slide
into darkness, the thick black of night
falling around our shoulders, holding
us tight. It’s easy to settle into the dread
of dark, to feel it pull us down but
remember, light is coming, little
by little, the days grow brighter,
our hearts grow lighter. Little by little.
Solisticio de Invierno
por Courtney LeBlanc, Poeta laureada de Arlington
Traducción de Lucian Mattison
Nos acercamos de a poco, el deslizamiento
lento hacia la oscuridad, el negro espeso de la noche
cayendo en los hombros, abrazandonos
fuerte. Es facil arellanarse en el pavor
de la oscuridad, sentirlo tirandonos hacia abajo pero
recuerda, la luz esta llegando, poco
a poco, los días se vuelven más brillantes,
nuestros corazones más ligeras. Poco a poco.
Winning Poems
Things We Do for Love
Marc Drexler
Gaithersburg, MD
The entire summer I was eight
we couldn't put the car in the garage.
Two huge tomato plants
had grown and were fruiting
from the crack in the middle of the driveway.
Nothing made my father happier
than when I told him we were eating
a driveway tomato.
Untitled
Joan Leotta
Fairfax, VA
an owl continually questions
my identity
as I watch the stars
Trees Bare Themselves to the New Year
Gabby Gillam
North Potomac, MD
Sidewalks hide beneath
discarded summer wardrobes
—colorful farewell.
Signs
Madelyn Rosenberg
Arlington, VA
We spent a year
advertising our very souls
in the front yard.
I wonder now if the neighbors
hardened by frost
softened by false spring
will still bring
figs.
Mother’s Day
Roberta Berry
Bethesda, MD
mother's day—
only the tulips
come calling
mother's day
she puts me
on hold
first lilacs
still no pleasing
my mom
What Coping Feels Like
Sunayna Pal
Rockville, MD
Have you ever sat on your foot
until it forgets it's there?
Completely numb and when
you place it softly down
There’s nothing. No sensation. No spark
Just a weight where your foot should be
A stranger to itself with each step
a quiet ache filled with needles
you learn to carry somehow
walk anyway
The Poem
Deborah Ager
Hyattsville, Maryland
To make of the dirt a fruit, I tended it, the blister
that welled rose-blood red, serum-swelled,
the amber-colored wound, the delicate sack.
It was safe in the tending. To make of the words
a poem. How hard the world scraped against it,
how long it took in the remaking--a skin
of letters, a skim of silver ointment.
How, in sleep, I lifted the making to my chest,
to keep it whole, to keep it from harm.
Honorable Mention Poems
Web
Maya Ribault
Washington, DC
Its center, golden,
hung gossamer in air,
delicate, preying.
I Fear
Julie Brodie
Arlington, VA
I fear
For our beloved country -
Will they steal it?
( Thieves that they are).
They take the beauty of the clouds
They take the sky with it.
But they can’t
take our breath away.
Pomegranate, Dissected
Karina Lazorchak
Arlington, VA
Bloody, ripe flesh sits patiently
on the operating table,
All veins and arteries
open for observation
A pip bursts in two
and its dragon juice
dribbles down,
spreading sweet secrets
Grief
Cristi Donoso
Alexandria, VA
I can't remember the last time rain fell
or what
it has to do with you.
Weeks later I notice blades gone stiff,
the green of them sucked back down
into the soil and the azalea petals browning,
burnt ends curling, the air still
with brittle heat, the hostas
in mourning, shrugging
their wilted arms.
Needle and Thread
Rose Avent
Arlington, VA
My Grandmother knew her way around
a needle and thread.
In the gentle piercing and pulling of threads
she somehow bound us all together
silently taking our measure
stitching us piece by piece to each other.
My family would scatter like loose buttons in a tin
only to be caught up again, whole-cloth
in her capable hands.
Patched, mended, rejoined in love.
Little Metalmark (Calephelis virginiensis)
Richard N. Mott
Arlington, VA
One of the “small miracle” butterflies whose
orange wings are powdered enamel marked
by scratches into grey metal & seen only
by the rare few who know where to look—
while the rest of us spend our days in traffic,
online, caught in nets of conversation
as the world’s inconspicuous,
the lovely, float past
tipping their wings
unnoticed.
I Have Heard the Snow Sing
Shelley Dutton
Alexandria, VA
They say the snow is silent
Drifting down and piling up
Wet, cold, heavy
Blanketing the world
In utter stillness
But I have heard the snow sing
A clinking, tinkling melody
As a billion fractal shards
Fall to earth
And dance to a music all their own
Untitled
Jennifer L. Blanck
Arlington, VA
an idea
drops
creates ripples and expands
possibilities
Untitled with Mary Oliver Vibes
Deborah Ager
Hyattsville, MD
Any animal can teach you this—
how to be present in the world
whether they grow quiet in danger
or chase after a feather or food.
Don’t you wonder how they do it—
the scanning, the hunt? Who tells them
what to do when the grass stalks stiffen
with ice? Before darkness coats day,
a yellow black-eyed Susan, a petal or two,
the color they said we should always soak up.
Early Spring Crocus
Joan Leotta
Fairfax, VA
Petals close
tightly shut
to stave off
evening's chill
but open to praise
the day to come
when caressed
by sun's first kiss.
Free Transfers for Two Hours
Aleck Solorzano
Arlington, VA
Life moves
like a bus —
pick the right one
Ode to the Public Library
Kat Flores
Bethesda, MD
Dear public library,
You have
exactly what I need.
I have one heart
and my heart is yours.
Everything I am and everything I have
is yours. I will never
love a man the way I love you.
Yours forever,
Lover #1
Forecast
Mariel Herbert
Ashburn, VA
Who reads anymore? The snow
we weren’t supposed to have turns
sidewalks into rivers: still galaxies
beneath the same old moon. Almost
full, we leave our leftover feelings
by blue bins once a week because
someone else might want them—
to sand down, repaint and resell.
But who has time for breathing?
Winter Aubade
Amy Dougher-Solórzano
Arlington, VA
When the leaves dropped,
we never bothered
to take the air conditioner
out of the bedroom window
and now there is a bird
nesting inside it,
tapping out a little poem
above our heads—
nature’s own
tin can phone