Georgia Poet Laureate’s Prize 2026: Meet the winner and finalists

Launched in 2014 by former Georgia poet laureate Judson Mitcham, in collaboration with the Georgia Council for the Arts, the Georgia Poet Laureate’s Prize is an annual program designed to encourage works by teen writers. It is open to all students in grades 9 through 12. Read more about its inception here and meet the 2026 winners and finalists below, selected by state poet laureate Chelsea Rathburn.

Winner

“Peach State Migration”
By Jaiden Geolingo

This part of sightseeing is always the hardest,
when the chandelier dies out &
we’re left with more trees. On this pasture there is no

gentle method of return. I could see my country’s geometry
from the rearview mirror, congruent
& filled with mayflies. Another dead end

I’ve left behind. The turnpike we passed through
is a clot of farewells, & dad drove beneath
the interstate’s guide signs towards a tunnel of light.

Here is the Atlanta air we’ve been dreaming of.
The sting of it. Another ferris wheel pulsates in the nocturne
& I’m dreaming about a potential snow harvest. & how I worry

about the perforated peaches behind me, the passports
disheveled in a Walmart parking lot.
I don’t know what to make of the weathervane

pointing to perpetual typhoon; I want to believe
that some good will come out of it,
like a crow song harmonizing in the distance, despite its crowness.

We are throwing away ripe fruit
at the flea market without an allegory. I want to return
to the pungent roads & the sewer-air, but

the rest are still perfectly adequate: like a
parable with no holy ending, or a simile with no
desirable quality. So much desire is here, leftover, as a keepsake.

Here are both our entrance & exit hymns. How it’s full of love.
This oracle. These massacres cycloned into a dark room.
What is there to love but the mountain ranges.

Jaiden Geolingo is a Filipino writer from Howard High School and the author of How to Migrate Ghosts (kith books, 2025). His work has been recognized by the National YoungArts Foundation, the Georgia Council for the Arts, and the Alliance for Young Writers & Artists, among others. Winner of the 2026 Louise Louis/Emily F. Bourne Student Poetry Award, his writing appears or is forthcoming in diode poetry journal, Poetry Society of America, Tupelo Quarterly, DIALOGIST, Writers Digest, and elsewhere. He is the editor-in-chief of Hominum Journal and a Best of the Net nominee. Jaiden is working on a chapbook titled Hymnal of Hourglasses and a co-authored poetry collection titled HEARTLAND. He thanks everyone in his life for the unending support.

Finalists (alphabetical by author’s last name)

“Walking to Make Sense”
By Langston Biestman

I will be going walking
For myself, and everything else.
Cars tear past to the side, whipping up gales
That seep into my fingernail bones and licorice flesh,
Ripping at my jacket to get inside.
Three feet of broken pavement are the only ward
From the purpose slipping away.

Crumbling houses listen to me leave,
Grinding footfalls falling upon fading ears,
And a cat accompanies me, wearing a collar
That glints and jingles louder than I.
It’s never meant to last, and the cat,
Mewling in biting disgust,
Disembarks, searching for elsewhere.

The sense, the broken pavement,
The cars, cat, and collar all fall to the back.
It’s come to a head, and I choose down,
Underneath the bridge, where the railroad tracks
Are lined out under the snow and trash.
The marks of years past are finally found.

Dozens had been there
To leave their graffiti up above,
And maybe they appreciated it then,
When it was vulgar and fresh,
But no one is there now.
Only I remain, a statement,
And I’m waiting for the right moment
To leave.

Langston Biestman is a junior at Lakeside High School, a member of the IB program, and a clarinetist in the school’s wind ensemble and marching band. Pursuing a job centered around animals and science, he finds enjoyment in chemistry and biology, though he always holds a place in is heart for literature and history. He loves poetry and is honored to see his work held to such a high standard. For pastimes, he likes listening to music or playing it on the piano, going on long walks or runs in Augusta, or simply reading or researching his interests.

“Emmanuel in the Walmart Parking Lot”
By Gabrielle Christie

my brother is laid out in the parking lot. and in the morning, the cleanup crew will come. and when they leave only the chalk will remember where he was. in a week they will remove the tape and the police will forget his name. there will be a black mama crying over the loss of her baby boy— her baby boy she named Emmanuel who she said could do anything in the world. she said: give your grace— give your praise to God and my child, He will see that you are done right. he prayed every day. now emmanuel is surrounded by bleach and scalpels. and they cleaned his blood off the asphalt. and his mama is banging on the walls in her cell because the police said she was disrupting the peace. she looks up to the sky and says: emmanuel, baby— my emmanuel, my son, my gift, my peace. she says she will not rest until they are put away.
next week, emmanuel’s mama is in a tree.

This poem contains special formatting. View the original format here.

Gabrielle Christie is a senior at the Rockdale Magnet School for Science and Technology in Conyers, Georgia. Her writing has been recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and she has attended the Georgia Governor’s Honors Program to major in communicative arts. Gabrielle is very passionate about the power of writing and storytelling to drive change. Her work in advocacy and the arts has shown her how creative expression can bridge divides. Gabrielle would like to thank her speech and debate coach, Mrs. Cherie Ullo, for her continued support throughout her high school career. She would also like to thank her family and friends for giving her the space to explore herself creatively.

“Confessions of a Little Brother”
after The Little Owl, Albrecht Durer, 1506
By Samanyu Ganesh

the glue still smells like sugar & dust & dried mango skins when I remember the day I betrayed her and told those guys waiting in the carpool line that the beautiful owl had not been her own & she cried and wondered how I could do that & I asked if she had any leftover candy in the pink-plumed box & tomorrow I’ll forget this but she won’t & I wonder if she’ll always resent me for it & Mama too & the night prior we had sat in the living room on an ashy, kerneled rug & Mama had swept away the peanut shells & sculpted a feathered shoebox & I watched but not closely enough & Mama could have been anywhere in the world & in line at Disneyland & promptly on a flight to see the real Neuschwanstein Castle yet she was here in our living room and I wasn’t sure why.

its red papier-mâché belly, brimming with party favors and Fun Dip, quivered like a heartbeat trapped beneath floorboards of tissue paper & in retrospect, maybe the owl knew more than I did & maybe it kept score in those black-currant, unblinking googly-eyes, patient as the stars

& my repentance complete, I felt the soft tremor of its wing against the windowpane

Samanyu Ganesh, 18, is a senior at the Westminster Schools in Atlanta, Georgia. Samanyu is passionate about poetry, math, music, and the social sciences. He has won multiple Regional Keys and National Medals in the annual Scholastic Art and Writing Awards (for poetry, journalism, short stories, and critical essays), and currently serves on the editorial staff of Evolutions, his school’s poetry and fiction magazine. He is the winner of the 2025 American Mathematical Society Poetry Contest, High School Division. Outside of writing, Samanyu is an avid quiz bowler and plays the cello. His hobbies include running, watching Formula One Racing, going to concerts, and following the NBA—and, as of late, NHL hockey (specifically the Boston Bruins) in anticipation of his next four years at Harvard College in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Incidentally, he was also one of the four finalists for the Georgia Poet Laureate Prize in 2024.

“We Were Pompeii”
By Lexi Markham

I
My grief was an open map
Still under construction,
In praise of robbery and shadow

Cinema shapes in Pompeii
Projected on the silhouette of ruins
Stress dreamlike images—
Gods of dust
Dilapidated pieces
Vanished days,

II
These were the ashes of memories,
Labors from
Travelling to excavate
The underworld itself,

III
I walk into your perfectly preserved house.
Storerooms like arguments
Of display

IV
Behind the plastic sheeting and scaffolding,
Remnants were mosaics.

V
Silhouettes
Now viewless
Feeding my shadowy
Past world.

Lexi Markham is a junior at The Paideia School and a 2024-2026 Atlanta Youth Poet Laureate. She has attended Interlochen, Kenyon, and Smith summer writing programs, and this summer will attend Governor’s Honors for Communicative Arts. Her work has been published by Vox ATL and the National Youth Poet Laureate Website and recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. She has also helped write a guided teen mental health workbook with Free Your Feels, and a poetry anthology with Vox ATL. She works as a commissioned writer for Vox ATL and the Center for Civil and Human Rights, and regularly performs at poetry events around Atlanta, speaking at nonprofit fundraisers and local colleges. In her free time, she enjoys reading Topaz Winters, practicing the guitar, and learning how to dance.