Winners of the 2026 Gordon Parks Museum Poetry Contest, sponsored by Helen Townsend and Trabar Associates, have been selected. This year’s theme was “Giving a Voice to the Voiceless.”

Seventeen entries were received. First Place went to Jada Paschal of Kansas City, Mo., for “The Girl in the Red Dress.” Second Place went to Kamryn Pirkey of Pryor, Okla., for “10 Steps.” Third Place went to Aiden Thomas Bugger of Wichita, Kan., for “In the Empty Frame.”

Four Honorable Mentions were also named: Sarah Epps of Pleasanton, Kan., for “Forest Flowers”; Melissa Andrews of Decatur, Ga., for “Developed in the Dark”; Makenzie Moser of Paola, Kan., for “The Misfortune of Women”; and Alyssa Murray of Kansas City, Kan., for “Might I Offer You an African Proverb.”

The First, Second and Third Place winners received cash prizes of $200, $150 and $100, respectively.

The contest is inspired by Gordon Parks, who used his camera to speak for those unable to speak for themselves. Poets were invited to capture the essence of the theme in their own words.

Judges for the contest were Kansas Poet Laureate Traci Brimhall and poet Cash Hollistah. The poetry exhibit will be on display on the Gordon Parks Museum Facebook page and on the museum’s website, gordonparkscenter.org.

First Place: “The Girl in the Red Dress” by Jada Paschal

Crisp early mornings dressed in Sunday’s very best
Melodies strumming through the halls
The smell of collard greens and smothered turkey necks
Waiting for someone to devour when the final Amen falls

Hands raised high, Tambourines set ablaze
Tongues speaking words language cannot possess
Mary Janes swinging at the altar
The Girl in the Red Dress

The distinctive smell of reset
Potions and concoctions of Clorox
Warm nostalgia and a tree of wrinkles
In a world full of superficial Botox

Salons overflowing with the same culture
Trends the world understood too late
Ma’s knuckles forging roads in her scalp
Vaseline and Cocoa Butter glistening on her face

Smile draped in jewels like the divine
“Too Big!” and “Too loud!”
The hoops and the chains suddenly—
“Too much!” and “Too proud!”

Nevertheless
Still The Girl in the Red Dress
Shame.

Confidence mistaken for attitude
Curves screaming provocative
Condolences and Apologies
Restrained in the shackles placed upon us—
tongues no longer so talkative

The circles that once framed her crown and ears
Now drawn across her back
And yet, she remains
Mourning those who never grew their wrinkles
Beauty in the Bloodline, burdened by the pain

…Tsk, Tsk, silly me
I’ve outgrown the outfit, but never the skin
Suppressed.
—Forever, The Girl in the Red Dress

Second Place: “10 Steps” by Kamryn Pirkey

The lights cast a reflection on the wall
The kitchen faucet trickles water
Medicine bottles cluttered on the wooden table
Don’t look to the right, Don’t look to the right
My head pivots to the right
Beep Beep Beep
I can’t mumble
The life machines scream to keep you alive

10 steps is all to walk in the room that you will perish in.
10 steps to individual that cared for me
Little did my sterling self know, you’d be gone in a matter of days.

I can’t whisper
It pained my inner child voice to take those 10 steps
That you didn’t recognize me anymore
“Who’s that” you choke out
I couldn’t speak
I didn’t have a voice
To sing my little rhymes of begging you not to leave.

I regret taking those steps
I wish I took them
But I did
I took those 10 steps to see you pass.
My voice cracked every step I took.

Third Place: “In the Empty Frame” by Aiden Thomas Bugger

The sharp alarm cuts through the frozen dawn,
and through the glass, my day has begun.
The early light breaks in a blinding stun;
a flash of gold that mirrors the low sun.
I sit up, my muscles stretching as I turn to face the street.

By Noon, a stranger steps into my home,
and he tells me his name is Jerome.
As he sets up his equipment,
I rush to get prepped, waiting.

Then—A bright FLASH! it happens.
The camera flash traps the sharp lines of my face,
locking my private grief into a cold, lonely frame,
making a black-and-white story for the world to see, not touch.

For a split second, the blinding brightness burns,
painting the peeling walls in a holy, false white.
Then comes the return of the all-too-familiar dark.

Jerome packs his bags and walks out of my home,
Leaving the intoxicating smell of burnt powder.
He leaves to wash my struggles in chemical trays,
stamping a clean piece of art from my daily pain.

But back in my house, the sun climbs my walls again, unbothered,
and the street goes right back to its endless beat as the sun sets again.

Now the midnight shadows stretch across the floor.
I step out this unfinished frame.
Unframed, unprinted, and utterly unbroken.

The true work of my survival, completely hidden,
as I rest overnight, ready for more struggles,
tomorrow, which can wait.