Youth Poet Laureate Competition
The Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning is proud to announce its continuation of Kentucky’s first Youth Poet Laureate chapter in Lexington. This prestigious program, in partnership with Urban Word NYC and the Kentucky Arts Council, is designed to honor young writers and leaders in Kentucky between the ages of 13-18, who are committed to making a civic impact through community engagement utilizing the power of their written and spoken words. We strongly believe that when we honor young people and give them this kind of office, the community is more likely to listen to what they have to say.
YPL Application Window: August 10—October 31, 2026
YPL Judging: tba
YPL Finalists Announced by: tba
YPL Finalists Meet-up*: tba
YPL COMMENCEMENT**: tba
*This meet-up is to ensure students are properly prepared and knowledgeable about the expectations, were they to win the commencement. (Most importantly, the $500 stipend is given upfront to compensate for all speaking engagements through that year)
**This is the competition where our finalists will be given a chance to perform their poetry and be graded by a panel of judges. Light snacks provided.
This program is offered in partnership with Urban Word NYC and the Kentucky Arts Council.
About the National Youth Poet Laureate Program
The National Youth Poet Laureate Program is an Urban Word NYC (UW) initiative— in collaboration with local youth literary arts organizations across the country. The President’s Committee on the Arts and the Humanities— championed by the leading national literary organizations, including the Academy of American Poets, Poetry Society of America, PEN Center USA, and Cave Canem. Read more about the National Youth Poet Laureate Program here: https://www.youthlaureate.org/home
Eligibility
• Be a Fayette County, Kentucky resident between the ages of 13 and 18.
• Be available to serve as Lexington Youth Poet Laureate for the January 2026 – December 2026 program year.
• Live locally throughout the program year.
• Not be enrolled in college full-time during the program year.
Prizes
- $500 stipend to support the YPL as they give readings and workshops with other organizations and groups.
- Professional mentorship from a local poet/activist ($500 value)
- Poetry featured in a chapbook and copies of the chapbook.
- Free access to one of the Nikky Finney Writer Cubbies at the Carnegie Center for a year (business hours only).
- Community project support from the Carnegie Center.
- Several free writing classes at the Carnegie Center.
- Help cultivating their public speaking rhetorical style.
- Opportunity to compete in the Regional Youth Poet Laureate Competition.
Duties
• Inspire civic engagement, social justice, cultural awareness, and literary excellence.
• Develop a community project to grow your writing craft and inspire our communities.
• Attend and perform at public and/or private events (at least four).
• Share your experiences, writing process, and values on online platforms.
• Write one “clean” poem for the Carnegie Center website.
• Submit three poems for the national anthology by Urban Word.
Application Process
• Three original poems showing your content, craft, and voice (10 pages or less).
• Artist statement that tells us who you are and what poetry means to you (250 words or less).
• Resume with a list of awards, community service, work experience, and/or activism.
• Contact info of an adult sponsor who knows your writing, school performance, and/or community involvement.
• Parent/guardian’s contact info (unless you’re 18 by December 31, 2025).
2026 Commencement Ceremony
2026 Lexington Youth Poet Tony Robinson
Booking Information
For press inquiries and booking please contact:
Linda DeRosett, Youth Programs & Volunteer Coordinator
Lexington Youth Poet Laureate Program Coordinator
lderosett@carnegiecenterlex.org | (859) 254-4175, ext. 229
Press Release
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Feb 11, 2026
Tony Robinson Named Lexington Youth Poet Laureate
Lexington, KY – On February 11th, five finalists vied for the Lexington Youth Poet Laureate title in a commencement ceremony hosted at the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning. Of those five, Tony Robinson, a senior at Lafayette High School, was chosen as the 2026 Lexington Youth Poet Laureate (LYPL) by a panel of esteemed judges, that included Katerina Stoykova, Elizabeth Kilcoyne, Sean Corbin, and Jay McCoy.
Runner-up Mady Dinh, along with Rylie Humphress, Gauri Joshi, and Ash Sauer, will continue to serve as official ambassadors to the City’s historic and vibrant cultures of poetry and literature, using their positions to promote local writers and the transformative qualities of poetry and the written word.
The National Youth Poet Laureate (YPL) identifies, celebrates, and honors teen poets who exhibit a commitment to artistic excellence along with civic engagement and youth leadership. YPL collaborates with local youth literary arts organizations and leading national literary organizations. “The Lexington Youth Poet Laureate is a title that allows one to speak, and express the truth that is often overlooked.” Stated the Youth Program and Volunteer Coordinator, Brandon Hatfield.
Robinson said, “Poetry to me means a mode of expression in the short, accessible, and figurative that can express the complex.”
Poem excerpt by Tony Robinson
Count
You’ve got metal on your tongue,
found metal between your finger tips
topped off by a number and name
maturing to the body count of 73,077,
I believe in your ability to find the dead
worth finding.
Shift through bodies, shift through
nameless faces, blasted,
take their claim to a skeleton,
bare your chest in medallions
memento, identify the moment
you lost your head.
Identify the way you’ve layered
a hole in the ground,
disconnected from the longest part
of life, your death.
Bird
Fallen, the bird
is stripped of its feathers.
Clipped, strung tethered
to the corkboard that
splinters, and spits
brown mulch from its
screwed rotted face.
Solace, is found
in the gaping wisdom
Caught, from the bird’s
beak. He says how
his struggle is a
testament to the
might of blue feathers
and Elmer’s glue.
Captivation, only lasts
as far as you can find the time.
Jostled, the bird
swings with the sway
of children’s laughter.
Thankful,
Bloodied, he is
blessed in finding purpose.
Pain, is a reason
to escape or find yourself
on a pin board. Posed,
is the wisdom of a bluejay.
My brother is a traveler,
he has been gone for many
moons;
skipped town before the sun
set over the horizon. No one
said goodbye, but there are
legends that he left loudly,
just unseen, unnoticed.
In Milan, there resides catacombs
and cathedrals
lined with bones. I’m convinced
he’s seen them, became as
fascinated as I with the
concepts of a church
turned to dead.
Leading to him laying his head to rest
at the footsteps of a priest, calling it home.
My brother is mute,
he never spoke a word
but always caused a ruckus.
I made a nice
clean-up crew.
Though,
it’d be unrealistic to say,
his departure did not
mark some end to my carefulness.
Prodigal brother, not to return home till
my hands mark the day on the calendar
in ink. The sun rises and sets,
and I pray it shines
brighter on your head.
Thinking back on his heart beat,
badum — I realized I had only
memorized how he sounded when he
was asleep. Distant, far away, his soul
ran slow to me. My auditory and tactile
sense discouraged, quite suddenly,
by the irreparable factor like a broken
car, sour lemon, he was rendered driving
on a broken motor, I had no fix to.
Suddenly,
and spontaneously having combusted
on the side of the highway he’d made back
to me.
The Gnostics argue that Judas did not betray
from hate, rather a love unknown to others,
a kiss on the cheek, a devotion to God, to promise
of devotion
to carry out a plan, knowing your demise,
But considering, Abraham still brought
his son to the hill instead of the lamb,
it is found true that love, on occasion,
may only truly fashion itself as its devotion
to distance, to something inexplicable and
omnipresent.
For press inquiries and booking please contact:
Linda DeRosett, Youth Programs & Volunteer Coordinator
Lexington Youth Poet Laureate Program Coordinator
lderosett@carnegiecenterlex.org | (859) 254-4175, ext. 229
More About the National Youth Poet Laureate Program
Founded in 2008, the National Youth Poet Laureate Program identifies and celebrates teen poets who exhibit a commitment to artistic excellence, civic engagement, youth leadership and social justice. Learn more at http://www.youthlaureate.org
More About the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning
The Carnegie Center for Literacy & Learning is a 501(c)(3) non-profit educational and community center devoted to helping all citizens improve their quality of life through education and expression. Our open-door policy invites people young and old to learn something new. We offer seasonal classes in writing, publishing, and languages; tutoring for students grades K-12; vibrant youth and family programs and exhibits; readings from established authors and local literary icons; and other arts-related events designed to encourage among Central Kentuckians an appreciation for learning and the arts. Learn more at CarnegieCenterLex.org.
More About Urban Word
Urban Word is an award-winning youth literary arts and youth development organization that collaborates with local youth literary arts organizations across the country to provide uncensored platforms for youth voice. It is championed by the leading national literary organizations, including the President’s Committee on the Arts & Humanities, the Academy of American Poets, Poetry Society of America, PEN Center USA, Cave Canem, and the Library of Congress.
Poems
Bird
Fallen, the bird
is stripped of its feathers.
Clipped, strung tethered
to the corkboard that
splinters, and spits
brown mulch from its
screwed rotted face.
Solace, is found
in the gaping wisdom
Caught, from the bird’s
beak. He says how
his struggle is a
testament to the
might of blue feathers
and Elmer’s glue.
Captivation, only lasts
as far as you can find the time.
Jostled, the bird
swings with the sway
of children’s laughter.
Thankful,
Bloodied, he is
blessed in finding purpose.
Pain, is a reason
to escape or find yourself
on a pin board. Posed,
is the wisdom of a bluejay.
Good Night
one day everyone
will be laughing;
the wind
will be chilled
cradling your
already pale skin
against the gray sky.
you’ll rest your head
upon the window
waiting,
sitting in the scent
of petrichor; grass dew,
you’ve felt like this once.
when your hair dripped
down your spine like a mist,
and for once
you breathed clearly.
but today
if only for the minute
(or passing second)
the trees
and the frost
on your fingers
tell you that you must live.
Dinner Bell Bunny
I hope to be interesting enough
that I can be eaten whole,
That morrow will drip with
a sweet saccharine upon the tongue.
That a silver platter is not enough
to serve my bones.
To have a reason prescribed
to the fantastical nonexistence
between purgatory.
Pelt torn from fleshy muscle,
am I soft enough to desire?
To be held and tousled
fluffed into a throw pillow,
every part of me useful
and carefully crafted for
mandated dissection.
Eyes Caught On Wire
Sickness cradles in the back of my throat
and grows into a bitter bite at my senses.
Until my eyelids can’t take it anymore,
until my lips are dry and I just can’t help
but make it worse,
rolling my tongue over it.
Tearing the skin.
Muscles taut.
I toss and get caught with
memories of once being a child,
melting into my bed
staring towards the ceiling.
To fill a mind
that hasn’t thought clearly in weeks.
Mutilated and off the bone
the fish hangs from the hook,
torn and tattered
the gills are fileted, I forget
what it means
to be a person,
on most weekdays.
I pick senselessly at my nerves.
Tenderized flesh.
I haven’t slept well in weeks,
and nothing makes sense but a frustration,
other than the itch
in the deep pocket of my spine.
Strung from a wire,
starting and forever embed,
running in the fingernails
that tear at my hair.
I’ve fallen to some sort
of fallacy, related or tied to
the way I grew up.
or how my great grandmother
twice removed and five times over
was raised.
“Dang, this is like something out of a movie”
Onyx pools at our feet, feeding
the rubies and diamonds and emeralds
lining the coast, blinking to show they are
breathing too.
We scream at the night to a girl
I don’t know, and we pray that our
“Happy Birthday”
travels to Cuba with a Saran-wrapped suitcase,
and we suck in the hot air
like rabid dogs because we know
it’s going to be gone pretty soon.
I don’t know you very well but
give me a hug just for
tonight, we are invincible
as long as we empty our souls
in the sand doodles.
Shoulder to shoulder, soldiers to
the war that is leaving the parking lot.
Sitting on the seafoam
floor with our hands grasped tight
so y’all
don’t float out of my memory
is fun. Want to try?
Milanesa
“Milanesa, noun, a thin slice of beef, dipped into beaten eggs, seasoned with salt and other condiments, dipped in breadcrumbs and shallow-fried in oil.”
- Breadcrumbs in the pan,
ones that used to be
crushed by your mother’s hands.
Day old stale bread bought
on the panaderia
on the corner
with your childish fingers
in her wrought ones
that begged for sweetened layers
and rotted your teeth dark
brown, like you.
- Egg wash in the other,
(you always said
keep it second and separate)
spiced with the pap-rrrik-ah
bought on the corner
of the strip mall,
where our tongue congregates
in a sea of sale stickers.
- Thin sliced meat, whatever you’d like,
we’re not picky,
just whatever can be found.
If you’re smart like us,
knead a thick slab
with a harsh and gentle
awakening
for maximum outcome.
- Now dip,
watch it ebb and flow
from dry to wet.
Dip into each part of you,
the one that exists
on the dusty cobblestone
and in the boisterous laughter
and around the swirling mountains
and outside of here.
- Heat the skillet.
Yes, the electric will work just fine.
Do you hear the sizzle,
the thumping speakers
that spill striking accordions?
Pour the oil generously,
let it tumble out
like the drawn out melodies.
- Let it sit and fry
till the color of your eyes
shine through,
dark honey and hazel
like our roots beckoned.
Never let
the jet black strands
shine through,
or else a pile of ash
will spew off the griddle.
- Pick it out.
Drag it into a new country
a new home,
a new life,
a new name.
Aim to be gentle,
but if it’s a little sudden,
it’s alright,
you both were taught to prosper
on the hard white
porcelain platter.
- Grab the knife,
serrated edges
with the mahogany base
we stole from Abuela.
She hasn’t noticed yet.
Maybe the one with the square blade,
the one you crafted
just like your father,
woodworker on the side.
You look like him you know,
same long sad face
of a stubborn life.
- Cut deep,
listen to the flesh tear.
We are rabid animals;
when the tender meat
falls onto our plates,
we must hold back
our ancestral urges.
- Squeeze the lemon,
cut with the same knife,
a blossom of the quince tree
or the ciruelo
in Tia’s backyard
that refuses to die
in the whirlwinds
of this unpredictable life.
- Consume whole,
lick your lips,
let your thick smile
crawl onto your face.
Do you want some more?
