In conjunction with the German American Heritage Center's current exhibition The White Rose: The Student Resistance Against Hitler, Munich 1942-1943, the Davenport venue sponsored a poetry contest seeking original works inspired by the theme of “resistance.” All individuals chosen for the slam were between 13 and 20 years of age, with their poems five minutes or less in length, and the contest winners received $100 as compensation for their entries. With the kind permission of the GAHC and the authors, a selection of winning entries will be published monthly through January.


Shalom Moore, 17 years old, Rock Island High School
This poem is dedicated to my dad, Scott Moore. It's a tale of his courage, faithfulness, and his resistance to negativity during the time when I, his first-born daughter, was hospitalized as an infant.

A Brave Father”

Come near from afar, take heed to my tale
There is a man trusting God in great strife
Amidst low income, hope would prevail
In the battle of his young daughter's life
So many problems - doctor's said she'd croak
The man, often gone, not there for his wife
Could've sat in his car, with pressure broke
Whilst far away, babe struggled for life
The man and his wife, both Christian believers
Held by the prayers of the Lord's many saints
Stuck with their kid like golden retrievers
Though very weary, they did not grow faint
And God, in His goodness, kept the man tall
Yes, this same God is willing to help all



Clementine Springsteen, 17 years old, West High School
"Perfect, Always"

"Just write."
The words are familiar, of course.
They play in my head on loop;
It was never a matter of creativity.
The words already existed within my skull;
A jumbled mess of one-liners and half-baked ideas.
No, the issue was of another nature entirely.
I reach out to pick up my pencil,
To write something,
To write anything.
But my fingers never meet the familiar plastic.
My arm never moves.
The words are never written.
I've oft been posed the question,
'If a tree falls in the forest
And no one's around to hear it,
Does it make a sound?'
A stupid question, I thought,
Of course it still makes a sound.
But if a poem is pieces together
And no one's around to write it,
Does it still exist?
It's a theoretical;
Schrodinger's Poem
It's the greatest piece I've ever written.
It's my masterpiece.
It is I; I, it.
The true reflection of the magnificent me.
A love letter to the wonderful idea of I.
It's the worst poem I ever could have written.
Messy, unrefined, meaningless.
It's everything I've ever feared that I am.
It is but a confirmation of what I already know,
The truer reflection of my vile self.
It's both, it's neither.
I'll never know which is the truth.

I'll never write it; never allow it to be.
I can't let it be imperfect.
But God, in His omniscience, created man.
Man, the most imperfect creature of them all,
A blemish on God's beautiful creations.
I pick up the pencil,
Feel the cold plastic against my hands,
And I write the poem I've kept locked up
In the all but inescapable prison of my perfectionism.
It's mediocre, a product of my inexperience.
The lines are messy, my writing unrefined.
The words have no meaning.
It's perfect in its imperfection,
The truest reflection.


The White Rose: The Student Resistance Against Hitler, Munich 1942-1943 will be on display at the German American Heritage Center from through February 12, with regular venue hours Tuesdays through Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. and Sundays from noon to 4 p.m. Exhibit entrance is free with $3-5 museum admission, and more information is available by calling (563)322-8844 and visiting

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