2025 Sejong Writing Competition
Winning Entries :: Sijo
Adult division
Dad's Turn
The workday is done. Time to pick up my baby from daycare.
She comes toddling, wearing a poncho for a skirt and mismatched shoes.
Her teacher smiles at me and asks: Did Dad dress her this morning?
Sijo Reading by Bonnie Tudor.
Family Recipe
Baking bread with my grandma, she teaches me to knead the dough.
Her fingers push, pull, and fold, making the dough tense with gluten.
As I rise, her hands fade away. It is time to prove myself.
Sijo Reading by Brooke Daly.
Bird Island
Bird Island floats far from shore; there, eagles nest and lay their eggs.
When thick clear ice forms a bridge, racoons forage on frigid nights.
Love and eggs (in the scoundrel’s mind) are always best when they are fresh.
Hallyu
Parasite on the big screen and BLACKPINK on the radio.
Dalgona at the market and Kimchi at the local pub.
I left Korea, but the Wave brought her back to me again.
Mother Tongue
Flesh and soul once brought forth here, though home now rests on foreign soil.
In their words, her speech stumbles, falling back on sounds from afar.
With a sigh, she takes out her phone, it spits out her forgotten tongue.
December
The Long Night Moon rises as I struggle to finish this poem.
She closes her book and heads up the stairs without a word.
Embers in the fireplace cool, like those of an old marriage.
Sijo Reading by David Jibson
Bedtime
You demand only a story, pudgy pink hands turn pretty pages.
Knights slay beasts, I know this one a kingdom saved, I close the book.
You cry out—and then what happens? Sleep now, write that one yourself.
Sijo Reading by Ash Lozano.
Pop-Pop Jake
Achoo, achoo! I sneeze. I hate these stupid allergies.
Sorry, you must get that from me, my Pop-Pop truly replies.
Lovingly I smile. That’s impossible. He’s my step-grandfather.
Pre-college division
Dumplings
The dumpling I wrapped has sloppy seams, bursting with filling.
It sits besides the ones my mom made: plump and perfectly pleated.
She smiles at my misshapen creation. "It'll be delicious."
How to Forget in Six Easy Steps
Knead the dough, pull flour thin; crack three eggs, let hot oils hiss.
Wield your spoon, turn the batter — fold and stir and whisk and scrape and mix.
Stir and stir until you forget; beat and blend the pain away.
Letter Never Sent
Ink flows smooth across the page, Words of love, of admiration.
Folded tight, sealed with hope, Tucked away in his back pocket.
Years drift by, the ink fades–unread, Paper may forget, his heart won’t.
Split Household
A packed bag filled with clothes, going to Dad’s house for the weekend
Two addresses, two toothbrushes, two bedrooms my entire life
Half an hour if I forget something; “Whose house are you at?”
Sijo Reading by Ash Jenene Hall.
Bamboo
Fresh and new, a bamboo shoot. Soft and tender, like a newborn.
However, within short time, comes great toughness, like an adult.
Given time, bamboo becomes dry. After some years, so will we.
On Drowning
Fuming with rage, she boards the bus; it floods with cruel isolation.
There she yells those fiery words, hoping to fight the rising tide.
Yet once home, she finds no solace. Her eyes remain drowned in tears.
Sijo Reading by Zoe Mihalick.
Fish Don't Feel Pain
A naive thing to say, when all research points a different way.
“Oh, but their nervous systems are not capable of pain.”
you'll say, as the fish thrashes in pain, and you serve it in a souffle.