普林斯頓 Leonard L. Milberg 53高中詩歌獎

Leonard L. Milberg ’53 High School Poetry Prize 倫(lun) 納德·L·米爾伯格'53高中詩歌獎旨在挖掘美國或國外的11年級學生的傑出文學創作，競賽由普林斯頓大學的劉易斯藝術中心（Lewis Center for the Arts）舉(ju) 辦。本比賽的評委會(hui) 由普林斯頓大學寫(xie) 作係的成員組成，如Michael Dickman，Yiyun Li，Paul Muldoon，James Richardson，Tracy K. Smith，Susan Wheeler和Monica Youn。

Lewis Center for the Arts

劉易斯藝術中心是以已故的Peter B. Lewis（1933年-2013年）命名的。劉易斯先生是普林斯頓大學1955屆的畢業(ye) 生，也是大學的前特許理事，他在2006年向大學捐贈了1.01億(yi) 美元，開創了普林斯頓大學藝術的新時代。

普林斯頓大學的創意寫(xie) 作、舞蹈、音樂(le) 劇、戲劇、視覺藝術和跨學科工作室等課程組成了劉易斯藝術中心（Lewis Center for the Arts）。該中心通過每年舉(ju) 辦100多場公開演出、展覽、讀書(shu) 會(hui) 、電影放映和講座，為(wei) 校園和更廣泛的普林斯頓地區社區服務，其中大部分是免費的。

重要地位
倫(lun) 納德·L·米爾伯格'53高中詩歌獎是普林斯頓設置的詩歌比賽，獲獎詩歌可以在arts.princeton.edu上發表。比賽全程由普林斯頓大學教授評判。參與(yu) 該詩歌比賽可以和世界各地同齡學生一起交流詩歌，隔空與(yu) 普林斯頓大學教授碰撞詩歌文化。參賽要求

年齡要求：各國的11年級高中生
其他要求：每個(ge) 學生可以提交3首詩，沒有字數要求
學生需要在官網提交作：首先在官網指定的地方複製好作品，再上傳(chuan) PDF版本（需要提交兩(liang) 次）
文件名格式為(wei) （名-姓-poems)
PDF文件的每一頁都要標注參賽者名字、家庭地址、郵箱地址、手機號、在讀高中名稱以及學校電話。
官網提交：
https://arts.princeton.edu/leonard-milberg-high-school-poetry-prize-submissions/

參賽時間
競賽提交將於(yu) 2021 年 11 月 1 日開始，截止日期為(wei) 11 月 28 日晚上 11:59（美國東(dong) 部時間）

獎項設置
獲獎作品都將在官網上展示，一等獎到三等獎作品可以下載下來研讀。
一等獎：獎金500美元
二等獎：獎金250美元
三等獎：獎金100美元
榮譽獎：獲獎詩歌名稱展示在官網上
備賽資料

競賽希望有積極性的學生能夠選擇參加比賽，並希望他們(men) 能夠將詩歌的寫(xie) 作和分享視為(wei) 一種樂(le) 趣，而不是一種義(yi) 務。
推薦閱讀下列詩歌選本：
Poem-a-Day: 365 Poems for Every Occasion, edited by Tamar Brazis20th Century Pleasures, edited by Robert HassThe Best of the Best American Poetry, edited by Robert Pinsky

2021獲獎作品欣賞
Olivia Yang
Charlotte, North Carolina
Etymology of Loss

The day my mother died, I opened
my copy of the Tibetan Book of Living 
and Dying for the first time. I stroked
each page, the soft fur of age glistening
between my fingers. Perhaps 
the deepest reason why we are afraid of death
is that we do not know who we are. It is time now
to admit my mother’s death to be two
deaths, the first in her chamber of body,
the second in a glass room
in my mind. Her departure left a silence
underneath the trembling
of my skin, which swallowed
grief as quickly as a reassurance
that this was anything but finality.
I want to think of death as a metaphor
about empty space. Yet even a ghost will gnaw
at its coffin. When it’s packed too tightly
together, there’s a thickness to dust
I’d never noticed before. Like the birth
day cake I ate at seven — a diabetic sweetness
smudged in icing, recoiling
from the skin of my throat.
I drag the knife across glazed flesh
tenderly, as if to rouse the body
slumbering beneath frosted casing.
A sprig of pale lily rests on my platter –
no, wilts upon a coffin. The light goes out.
The flicker of an exhausted wick lingers, butane
licking the corners of my mother’s withering
lilac lips. I cannot remember
if she was there to witness the feast.
What does death do with the body
it discards? The same that we do
with the things we do not want. Mother,
when I try to capture your face, I can only remember
your cheekbones outlining a mouth
downturned, flushed in the rouge of anger.
When I try to grieve, I open
the same book and highlight with a pen
the words that can border you
in your wake — a cold body still
stuck, clinging onto caking ash.
But what is this? A revival? Or an erasure?
To contain you, I created a room
which was also a ghost. The distance between
you and I — faceless. I keep forgetting
empty space can also be a door
and even now, I wish I could enter
and exit freely.
But I know this is not an elegy
for I still do not know the words
that can contain you.

【競賽報名/項目谘詢+微信：mollywei007】