The Ocean Doesn't Break

The world is splitting at the seams,
loud with sirens, loud with screens,
But far from that, the ocean stays,
counting time in slower ways.

It carries storms inside its chest,
yet still it knows how to rest.
It holds the weight of everything
and never once stops moving in.

I press my feet into the sand,
feel the pull, feel something planned—
a rhythm older than our fear,
a promise that it’s still all here.

The tide comes in. The tide retreats.
It takes my grief down to its feet.
Salt and tears are hard to tell,
both are stories oceans tell.

And maybe that’s why I come back—
not to escape, not to distract,
but to remember how to stay
when things are breaking far away.

Nellie Jane Fouksman
Grade 11, San Francisco


WINNER

Beach Experience

I didn’t see them at first.
Just wet sand,
Hiding below waiting to be found.

Then the water pulled back
and the sand moved.

Tiny shapes rushed downward,
like they knew something
I didn’t.

Mole crabs don’t get the whole beach
just that narrow strip,
Where waves crash over and over again.

They eat what the waves forget
plankton, broken life,
things too small to name.

I didn’t notice it at first.
Just shells,
seaweed drying in the sun,
the usual scatter
left behind by the tide.

A bottle cap pressed flat
like it belonged there.
A torn wrapper shining next to a can.

Plastic doesn’t sink like regret.
It stays.
For a very long time.

Some pieces are small enough
to disappear into sand,
Mistaken for plankton or food.

The beach learns to hold it all,
including the things that will outlast us.

When the tide pulls back,
the garbage doesn’t rush away.
And what scares me most is the familiarity.

Lucas Bratt
Grade 12, San Francisco

HONORABLE MENTION

Ode To Garibaldi

O’ Garibaldi,
How I admire your tangerine scales
Your dome-shaped, bulging crown
Your pouty, sullen frown
As you chase us off your lawn

Once, bright eyed with electric blue freckles
You darted around the weeds

But we thinned your forest
Dirtied your water with dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane and sludge
Unleashed an army of prickly purple feeders
No wonder you hold a grudge

So, you show us your teeth
Nip at the goggles of divers
Expel us from your garden
When it was ours to tend


Oona Doner
Grade 10, Pasadena

HONORABLE MENTION

A Ribbon of Life

The ocean, a ribbon of life
twists and turns
and when I get to the end
she starts over again

and in the chorus of tide pools
a crab scuttles across the piano floor
so quickly all I can take
are a handful of notes

the kelp forest billows
so fiercely I can sense
the emerald she clutches
teasing from her depths

above the anemones blossom
and a pacific seahorse buzzes by
in a dance of life so minuscule
a seed buds within me

sandpipers whizz around
chambers of foam
like needle and thread
stitching the currents back together

I ride the crest, anew
following the moon’s plumpness
and compass of the sea until
I start again

Natalia Gustin
Grade 10, Irvine

HONORABLE MENTION

Supplicating to the Sea

Teach me to wear my reflection
As cool and clear as you do
O, how you stride so seamlessly
Stirring sand and stone like nothing
O, how you seep through my mind so softly
My ocean, my ambition, my kin

Ayame Huber Munemura
Grade 12, Aliso Viejo

HONORABLE MENTION

Wheels on the Water

Pink streamers flow in the sunlight
Rippling, sparkling
Clinging to the handles of my bike

Water mimics the movement
Sky clones the color
Both a mirror
Reflecting their love of one another

Soft sand whispers,
Interlacing fingers with hard pavement
Holding on
Not letting the breeze estrange them

They pay no mind to me
Unbothered by my presence
And I wonder if maybe,
While the waves and heavens blushed,
They would allow me a moment of reverence

To leave solid ground
And merge reflections
To make no sound
When my wheels met wetness
To be free of anchors
Far from the trenches

To pedal on the water, free from expectations

Charlene Macuixtle
Grade 12, Wilmington

HONORABLE MENTION

Turn Around

Sitting atop blocks of concrete,
scrolling on repeat.
Neck down, back in collapse
the phone set its trap

Behind the rough concrete,
luscious waves of blue crash and meet.
Above the tiny screen,
seagulls soar in this shimmering dream.

Under sounds of an ad brand,
soft winds whistle over blowing sand.
Beyond Instagram's page to “explore,”
warm orange rays reflect the glassy shore.

Seagulls soaring, and waves shimmering,
winds whistling, and rays glimmering;
all of it the phone has drowned.
But, all you have to do is turn around.

Evan Ready
Grade 12, Huntington Beach

HONORABLE MENTION

At the Endless Blue

I stand where the salt meets the stubborn grit,
A witness to the heave and the heavy blue,
Where the world doesn’t end, it only begins again
In a language of foam and ancient, throbbing thunder.
I thought I knew the weight of my own name
Until the tide rushed in to wash the ink away,
Replacing it with the sting of salt and the scent of kelp—
Like a baptism, seeping beneath skin and sinew
Here, the seagull is a master of the updraft,
And the bioluminescent pulse is a heartbeat
In that deep, dark swell,
where life lingers like stubborn stars.
It is a terrifying mercy, this vastness,
To be so small beneath the sovereign sun,
To watch the waves, those emerald, rolling cathedrals,
Collapse into lace against the warming sand.
The ocean does not care if I am brave or trembling,
It only pulls me into orbit—
like falling without end,
tilting my head back
to drink sunlight off the crests
and see myself shimmer in every sun-lit swell.
I am no longer a phantom on the shore,
But wind-whipped flags glowing orange in the tide,
Plovers squealing in grime-streaked sand,
A blue-whistled song riding the curl of mile-long storms–
Caught in the web of everything that breathes,
Watching the horizon stretch its arms to hold us all.
In her roar–—beautiful, salt-bright, and endless—I know
That to be small is not to be nothing,
But to stand in awe.

Angelina Sun
Grade 12, Fremont

HONORABLE MENTION

My Nomadic Heart

That home doesn’t feel like one place anymore.
It’s something I carry with me,
quiet and careful.

I’m used to living between things—
between two sides of my family,
between how I see myself
and how others see me.

Then the fire came
and turned my house into a memory.
Just like that,
I was between places too.

Now I live by the ocean.
The water never stays still.
It keeps moving,
like it understands what it means
to change.

At school, people talk about the beach
like it’s always been theirs.
I listen,
learning how to fit into a new normal.

Sometimes I miss who I was before—
before I learned how fast
everything can disappear.

The smell of smoke still follows me.
Fear does too.

But the ocean always comes back,
strong and steady.
And I think maybe I can learn
to come back too.

I am made of fire and water,
of loss and strength,
of more than one story.

And I am still here.

Audrey Rose Alexander
Grade 7

WINNER

Once when the waves...

Once when the waves tickled the shore, a snail shell shone bright golden.
Gleam. Shine. Ring.
Once when the waves pounded the beach, the kelp danced along, holding fast.
Pound. Swish. Twirl.
Once when the waves licked the sand, an otter found an urchin.
Crack. Crunch. Yum.
Once when the waves touched the coast, a garibaldi ate red algae.
Swim. Eat. Repeat.
Once, after the waves tickled the shore,
After they pounded the beach,
After they licked the sand,
After they touched the coast,
A human came along,
And smiled.

Alessandra Chapman
Grade 7, Felton

HONORABLE MENTION

Where the California Coast Remembers Me

I was born beside the southern sea,
In Laguna Beach’s golden light.
Its tide pools keep their mystery,
Where garibaldi flash so bright.

Each summer carries me farther north,
To Carmel wrapped in ocean mist.
Sea otters drift as the kelp sways forth,
While waves carve cliffs they can’t resist.

Two coasts have raised me, near and far,
One warm with laughter, bold and free.
One quiet, hushed beneath the stars,
Both forever a part of me.

The ocean survives through fire and storm,
Through plastic, smoke, and shifting form.
Yet every tide still reaches back,
A wave to hold us, strong and intact.

It teaches us what it means to stay,
To bend, to heal, and find a way.
No matter how the shoreline bends,
The ocean calls us home again.

Jacqueline Lising
Grade 7, Laguna Niguel

HONORABLE MENTION

Since I was a kid

I’ve loved the beach since I was a kid,
When my shoes filled with sand and I didn’t care
The ocean was cold, but I ran right in,
Laughing when waves knocked me over out there

I remember the fog in the mornings,
Gray skies that made the ocean seem endless
Seagulls screaming, people on the pier,
The wind loud, salty, and pretty reckless

I used to collect smooth rocks and broken shells,
And watch surfers surf way past sunset.
The waves kept coming, no matter what,
Like the ocean never got tired or upset

Now I’m older, but it still feels the same
The smell of salt, the sound of the tide
The beach reminds me of who I’ve been,
And the kid who still lives somewhere inside

Ian Maravilla
Grade 9, Fountain Valley

HONORABLE MENTION

Ocean Beach

Ocean Beach isn’t beautiful or perfect—
not in the way songs describe
California to be.

It’s gray and cold,
wind sharp enough to sting,
the shore stretching endlessly
beneath a fog-heavy sky.

The water doesn’t shimmer.
The sun never warms you.
It doesn’t try to be gentle.

After school,
my best friend and I walk there,
backpacks still on,
the weight of the day
pulling at our shoulders.

We sit in the sand,
hands like ice, hair tangled,
close enough not to speak,
watching waves crash and pull back
over and over,
like breathing.

It isn’t paradise.
But it is an escape—
from hallways and bells,
from the quiet pressure
to be more than we are.

Ocean Beach never asks that of us.

It lets us be cold,
quiet,
unfinished.

And somehow,
it’s enough.

Liana Mayfield
Grade 9, San Mateo

HONORABLE MENTION

Seals at La Jolla Cove

The odor of fresh fish wafts over,
tourists are holding their noses.
Ha, I think, That's for trying to take over our beach.
Then, a tourist tries to get close.
I bark a warning,
the other seals awake from their slumber,
our fish “stink” isn’t gonna last long.
We huddle and bark.
The tourists retreat.
Ha! My friend Pedro barks, Seals 1, Tourists 0!
Yeah! I respond. Seals rock!
I plunge into the cold ocean, needing delicious fresh fish.
Pedro materializes beside me,
and we dive down deeper.
By the time we get back,
tourists have taken out their most fearsome weapon,
the camera.
We huddle and pose in our worst positions.
Show your backside! the elder command.
Finally, they take away their cameras, leaving us free to roam.
Yay! Pedro shouts. Awesome!
Pedro and I return, diving down deeper, and deeper.
Dude, Pedro barks, Stop! I see the orange thingies!
I stop and see the fish.
They’re bright orange with tiny eyes.
And some of them make low thumping sounds.
We eat a few and then resurface,
wriggling onto the sand.
But when we are back on the shore,
the tourists are regrouping.
We are the seals of La Jolla Cove! the elder shouts. We own this place!
We are the seals of La Jolla Cove! everyone repeats. We own this place!
The tourists back off, but some giggle.
The seals are safe again, and so is La Jolla Cove.

Norah Lu
Grade 4, San Diego

WINNER

The Beach Boogie

When the car came to a stop
Out of the vehicle I hopped
Then I wadded through the junk
To get a Sprite from the trunk

The sand was hot to my feet
But the carbonation was cool and sweet
My family kept kicking up sand
So I had to cover my drink with my hand

Then my parents set up two chairs
And an umbrella to block the sun’s glare
I bounced up and down, trying not to annoy
I was just so excited for my new water toy!

Last year my brother got a boogie board
I was mystified as he zigged, zagged and soared
Stuck on the blanket, I watched him with envy
Next year, I vowed, it was going to be me!

So I dragged my parents to the surf board store
Where boogie boards were arranged from the ceiling to the floor
In the corner, I saw one just perfect for me
Stamped with a picture of a remarkable corgi

Riding the waves was such a thrill
But after three hours, we had had our fill
So me and my brother came back to the shore
And I slept in the car because there was no more

Caden Cho
Grade 4, Los Angeles

HONORABLE MENTION

The Way of the Ocean

Invigorating ocean, magnificent waves,
moving, twisting, curving,
like a Wavy Turban Snail,
I hear the ocean in your shell.
Spiraling, a familiar shape.

Someday, we will go inward.

The gentle ocean breeze
blows salty, cool air.
Tides collect mermaid trees.
Ocean is Mother Earth’s blanket—
comforting, warm, embracing.

Waves flow like a feather,
lifted by the breeze,
weightless, guided,
without resistance.

When I am with you,
I feel freedom.
Near you, happiness.
I surrender to you
with gratitude.

Tides breathe in and out,
an unexpected encounter
Ocean,
you have changed me.

Malia Mason
Grade 4, Mission Viejo

HONORABLE MENTION

A Sea Pig

Chubby tube-foot legs,
Waddling deep underwater
Devouring mud

Avani Tathele
Grade 6, San Diego

HONORABLE MENTION

Leopard Shark

A leopard shark is spotted black,
One tall fin sticking out of its back,

With a strong jaw lock to hold its pray,
It will not hunt in the light of day,

And when the sun starts to rise in the east,
It will wait until dark to enjoy a feast,

And when it's done with its caught feast,
Its scraps fall down to the dark, dark, deep.

Abel Wright
Grade 5, Inverness

HONORABLE MENTION

Litter or glitter?

On the sea, see the trash,
with every wave and every splash.
Motor boats and ships leaving out oil,
trash on the ocean, trash on the soil.
One by one, the fun and joy,
will fade away and will all destroy.
Hand in hand with mom and dad,
I picked up the plastic, the wrappers, and, then i was mad
“Why is there so much junk?” I thought,
I was exhausted and it was hot.
We ought to be fair and not to litter,
so that the ocean could always glitter.

Jasfateh Singh
Grade 3, Ventura

WINNER

A Haiku: A Silent Ocean

A silent ocean.
No splashing, and no twirling.
Splish, splash, otters crash.

Kennedy Elliott
Grade 3, Santa Rosa

HONORABLE MENTION

I Took A Picture with My Mom's Phone

I took a picture with my mom’s phone
so I could remember it
when the waves washed it away

When I got to the beach
I took my shovel
and my bucket
I went to find a spot for my sandcastle

I tried to make it tall
I filled the bucket with water
The sandcastle grew bigger
and bigger

I wet the sand
so it doesn’t fall
and the sandcastle looks better
stronger
more polished

I finished the sandcastle
I took a picture with my mom’s phone
so I could remember it
When the waves washed it away

Aaron Lee
Grade 2, Los Angeles

HONORABLE MENTION

Crab

I am a crab
red and white
and I can fight
and pinch, but
I am trapped in a net
and the rope is tight.

It's a dark and thunder-filled night
but then a crab
taps me on the back
and frees me.
It's my friend from long ago
when I was as small as a coin.

We crawl across the sand
under the sea
walking and talking together
until we find a treasure chest of squid.

R.J. Moore
Grade 3, Cotati

HONORABLE MENTION