Break-ups, struggle, and summer rain: Here are our 2025 poetry contest winners

Another year, another poetry contest! Here are the poems that came out on top.

The Copper Courier has come to the end of our third annual poetry contest, and we’re so excited to share the winning poems with you.

But first—we want to give a massive thank you to everyone who submitted this year. Sixty-seven people sent in poems on the theme of “Arizona,” and our five judges (including me!) loved reading each one. 

As a poet myself, and the host of our monthly poetry open mics, I know how scary it can be to share creative work with an audience, so we appreciate writers trusting us with their work. 

And speaking of the open mic, please join us on July 2 at Meraki Kava Bar from 8 to 10 p.m. The contest winner John Idalis will be a featured reader, and we’ve invited everyone else who submitted to participate. 

Come out to the free event and hear some great poetry, or share some of your own! Anyone is invited to get on stage and read. 

If you want some inspiration, read our contest’s winning poems here. It was a tight race, and two poems tied for third place. Enjoy!

1. “Your Tacoma, AZ”

John Idalis, 26, Mesa

where was your first kiss?

i imagine my future children asking.

tacoma

not in the p.n.w. though.

here

in the southwest

in your toyota tacoma.

here

where the asphalt inches towards

the superstitions.

these future children will be mine

but not yours,

babe.

i tried everything.

held on for eighteen months

for you to see the light…

in your tacoma

driving west towards to sunset

discussing suns playing against rockets

i mention the n.a.s.a. – houston rockets connection

“that’s where they faked the moon landing,”

you said.

at first, i thought you were joking.

you went to mesa community college

i know you know some things.

i asked you to expand

you added,

“the sun revolves around the earth.”

now i know mesa public schools taught you the solar system

and gravity,

babe.

i asked you to explain.

“i don’t believe in outer space.”

God,

please send an asteroid pummeling towards the 60 freeway.

anything to crumble the earth

and launch this tacoma into space

so maybe in our last breaths in this truck

he will see with his eyes

the planets revolving around the sun.

i mean

the world might as well end.

my man

my first kiss

my first love

i had waited 24 years to find him-

doesn’t believe in science.

our beliefs may seem small

in the grand scheme of things:

they live in our cells

in our brains

in our bodies

tiny beings!

on this small rock!!

floating in this small galaxy!!!

of many infinite galaxies!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!

… babe

if we can’t agree on the past,

how can we agree on the future?

we had a beautiful date at a sports bar in ahwatukee

we watched the suns and rockets on a big screen

you asked why i didn’t take any pictures

i said i forgot

but deep down i knew

we were coming to the end.

back in your tacoma

back on the 60 heading home

music playing loud, bass rattling the truck

tears started streaming down my face.

i

finally saw the light.

the moon shining its gentle beams

onto your dashboard.

i now knew you refusing the covid vaccine-

the cause of much worry and concern for me

that i hid from you

like my tears while you were driving-

would undoubtedly wreak havoc on our future marriage.

i love my future children too much

to not get them inoculated.

and no

vaccines don’t cause autism, babe.

we’ve always existed

just didn’t have the tools to succeed

and died far too young from disease

(and often locked up, given lobotomies)

that people didn’t notice our existence

until recently.

i pray one day

truth will hit you like

the apple hitting newton

(gravity joke- you wouldn’t get it apparently).

until then

it’s time i depart Your Tacoma, AZ.

thank you for the ride

i had a good time.

but now i’ve spent too much time

trying to open your eyes

trying to touch your mind-

what about my life?

2. “The Scorching Land”

Ana Briones, 25, Tempe

My grandfather worked the fields, 

He had special permission granted.

He worked very hard, and because of his hard work,

His family was able to visit.

But for some reason…

Some settled in the scorching land next door.

And then because my mother visited I was born. 

But her home was not here, so I followed. 

In México my family grew but did not thrive. 

To this burning land my mom came back, 

For a dream, 

That which is my right. 

But I wanted to be a visitor, 

Not to belong to this dried-out land.

Here the water runs dry and so do dreams, 

But we pushed and we pulled and I did succeed.

Somewhat…

I learned English, and I even got a degree, or three.

I have a job and a home, 

Love too expensive, 

Wheels and houses out of reach.

So, many days you’ll find me 

Walking under the blazing sun, 

Sweating out the salt and water 

That I so dearly carry from home. 

Even if my feet do burn and melt through the pavement,

I have to keep walking,

Until I accomplish this so-called Dream. 

In this land where everything burns and melts, 

We keep planting seeds for us, our friends, and our family. 

While water may run dry, I will share what I can. 

And with what I may inherit, borrow, or steal 

I may still be able to succeed, 

Here,

where many visit,

For the scorched dream. 

To this burning land people come and settle 

For what other reasons I do not know.

There’s too much hope for dried out dreams.

There’s hope that flaming sunsets provide comfort 

For those left behind, throughout this desert.

Which soil will I be buried in,

Will it be wet or dry? I do not know, 

But unlike many, I do have a choice

To live or to leave this scorching land.

3. “Arizona, My Heartland”

Patricia Macias, 42, Phoenix

In desert dawns of coral flame,

Where mountains whisper ancient name,

The cactus stands in sunlit pride,

As saguaros guard the countryside.

Red rock cathedrals rise so high,

Carved by time ‘neath painted sky.

Canyon’s echo with eagle’s cry,

Where silence sings and spirits lie.

Monsoons dance on desert stone,

Then fade into a twilight tone.

The stars arrive, so wild and near—

A galaxy made crystal-clear.

From Flagstaff pines to Tucson’s gold,

In every corner, stories told.

Where sunsets bleed in orange and wine,

And copper soil holds roots of mine.

O Arizona, land so wide,

With fierce soul and gentle pride—

You’re more than place; you’re pulse and song,

A home where desert hearts belong.

3. “Summer Rain”

Becky Jo DoRan, 43, Maricopa

​​After the long, scorching days of summer’s blaze,

A sight to behold, a marvel to amaze,

The heavens open, and droplets descend,

A symphony of rain, a cherished friend.

The first cool kiss upon the thirsty earth,

Awakens life, brings nature to rebirth,

Each drop a diamond, glistening in the light,

Quenching the land’s thirst, a welcome sight.

The air is filled with a petrichor perfume,

A fragrance of renewal begins to bloom,

Leaves unfurl, and flowers raise their heads,

In the soft, gentle rain, their joy spreads.

Children dance in puddles, laughing with glee,

As raindrops fall, setting their spirits free,

The world transformed, from dusty and dry,

To vibrant and green, under the gray sky.

Oh, the excitement of rain after the heat,

A wondrous gift, a moment so sweet,

It brings us together, as a community,

Celebrating nature’s abundant beauty.

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