Here are the Week 4 Winners of our "No-Sugar Added Poetry" Contest. Congratulations to this week's winners and honorable mentions!

We had 30 submissions in our final week (which can be viewed on the contest's member page) and our judging panel has selected the following winners:

1st Place: "Sam is Six..." by Tracy
2nd Place: "They said she could she would be fine" by Megan Decker
3rd Place: "Try Sweetining This Low" by Brad L

Honorable Mentions:
"I couldn't do that." by Jerry Nairn
"Partial definition" by J. Davis Harte

We have included these poems below for your convenience...

This week's prize winners should email Manny at manny AT tudiabetes DOT org with your complete mailing address so that you may receive your prizes!

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

---William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Sc. 2


Sam is Six…
My mom says “Diabetes SUCKS!”
And we laugh for awhile through the tears.

My baby sister begs for another snack, but I can’t have one.
She cries and my mom looks at me for the sign…okay.

My big sister wants to be a pastry chef!
“Look at the beautiful icing rose I made for you, just to look at though.”

My dad doesn’t want to hear the what ifs, and he doesn’t listen when she cries at night.
He sleeps. But I hear.

I hope I go low tonight. Those fruit snacks are so yummy.

They said she could she would be fine with a little careful tending.
They said she could she would be fine with a little careful tending.
They said she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t want to fly did she?
They said her life would be great as long as she ate right and poked herself and counted her carbs and calculated bolus and figured out her basal.
They said it would require change.
They said she would need support.
They never mentioned the word brittle.
They never said if I did everything perfect, she still might not be ok.
They never said the paramedics would all know her by name and address.
They never said she might not wake up.
They never said her kidneys might fail.
They never said her feet would burn and tingle with nerve damage that can never be fixed.
They never said she would be angry every day.
They never said I would be angry every day.
They never said I will probably have to bury my daughter.
But that’s the truth.
The truth no one says.
Is it because we all hope our child is the one with perfectly controlled numbers?
Do we all think that if we never say these words that they might somehow fade away?
I will say the truth.
I hate diabetes.
I hate diabetes.
I hate diabetes.
God please give ME the diabetes. Let me have blindness. Let me have painful feet. Let me never eat cake at a birthday party. Let me have the kidney infections and ultimately failure. Let me die early of heart disease.
Please.
I hate diabetes.


Try Sweetining This Low
I have stopped
Putting sweetener in my coffee,
Trying to convince myself
That I can taste
That natural sweetness
In water, beans, and cream,
That one packet of denial
Is Equal to one million
Splendid spoons of sugar.

Since then, every morning
On my way to work
I have poured bitterness
Into my mouth,
Held it on my tongue,
And swallowed it,
Thinking candylike thoughts
About saving my body
From unnatural chemicals.

But only one week later
I suddenly sense
That these sentiments
Are somewhat saccharine
Themselves.
Sweetness is something
That speaks to my softer side,
And I fear losing
My Sugary Twin to someone
Too strong and severe.

I see a man,
A seventy year old man
Healthy but hard,
Viceless but vapid,
Autonomous but alone.
On his deathbed he cracks
And the tears on his lips
Taste like vinegar.


I couldn't do that.
It's the silliest thing people say
to a diabetic.

We're not doing this for fun.

When you see the diabetic girl in the park,
poking and squeezing her finger for a drop of blood,
see also the threatening figure leaning on her,
holding a needle to her eye.
"Do it or I'll blind you!"

When you see the diabetic man in the restaurant,
jabbing the syringe through his pants into his leg,
see also the demon behind him
with an ice-pick against his kidney.
"Do it or I'll gut you!"

You could do it
with a gun to your head.


Partial definition
It became her before
she became herself
secret public riddle
worn on the heart sleeve
on the neck, on the finger
tips and Langerhans
hidden deep, pancreas

Straight out of the box
she, only three, free
sugar cereal Saturday
cartoons, sucking thumb
parents slumber 1975
freedom alive

Towering stuffed giraffe
hospital bed, child seer
nightmare dreamscape
get-well cards, as if, collect
ally nemesis enigma
diabetes dx 1976
American Bicentennial

"Do you want to hear
about your disease?"
she does not stutter
“No”. Teaching similes
as if her body was a car
both need care and fuel.
She tinkles in a cup

Test tubes fizz sugar levels
from hours and hours before
squeeze her eyes
shut, hard to be away
from Mom’s quick prick
daily shot morning insulin
Off she goes to play…

:DH

Views: 247

Comment by Sohair Abdel-Rahman on February 19, 2009 at 3:43am


Congratulations every body.The contest is over but Poetry club is waiting for your poems,any subject,not only diabetes.The world is going to read your lovely poetry in peotry club.See you there.....

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