2023 #KIDLITVIBES WINNERS & HONORABLE MENTIONS

WINNERS

Scroll to read the winning 2023 entries.  The feels are listed in parentheses after the title and author.
Note: Some authors are expanding their entries into picture books they hope to query at some point, therefore not all entries are listed below.

BUSY BEAVER BY RYANN JONES (FRANTIC)

[*=italics]

*Quick! Quick!

Winter will be here soon!*

Scrambling in a hurry,

Pitter-patter, scurry,

Beaver starts to worry,

*Must repair my home!*

Chomping and a-gnawing, 

Skitter-skatter clawing,

Teeth are used for sawing,

*Wood to fix my dome!*

Teeter-totter TIMBER!

Lugging, tugging, limber,

Huff-n-puff and hinder,

*Lumber’s almost there.*

Pat-a-pack-a SLAP SLAP

Whomp-a-whomp-a WHACK WHACK

Dam is gonna crack— 

CRAAAAAAAAACK!

SPLOOSH!

*There goes my lair!!*

Heart is pump-a-pumping

Tail is thump-a-thumping

Shoulders slump-a-slumping

*Must begin anew.*

Clock is tick-a-tocking,

Beaver stops his gawking,

Checks the logs are locking,

*So much left to do!*

Scrambling in a hurry,

Pitter-patter, scurry,

Chomping and a-gnawing, 

Skitter-skatter clawing,

Teeter-totter TIMBER!

Lugging, tugging, limber,

Pat-a-pack-a SLAP SLAP,

Whomp-a-whomp-a WHACK WHACK,

*WHEW!

I’m through.*

PUDDLE BY KELLY & TIM BIRDSONG (GLOOMY)

Pitter-patter. The sound wakes me.

Drip-drop. Drip. I pull the blanket up a little higher. I snuggle in. Then, I remember.

Tap. Tap. I peel open my eyes. The grey clouds hang low.

Ping. Ping. Shuffling to the closet I carefully slip on my boots. 

Ker-plunk. I zip my raincoat all the way up to my chin and open the front door. 

Whoosh. The wind whips, whirling leaves ‘round the yard. 

Slosh. Slosh.  I step outside and look up. The cool water falls gently on my skin. 

And then I see it, shimmering below me like a silvery cloud. I bend both knees and jump high into the air. 

SPLASH!

NESTING IN LATE SPRING BY LAURA COONEY (EAGER)

Rain skitters on the window in plinking bursts.

There is a tiny blink of sunshine on the horizon,

But it doesn’t stop the splishing, spitting and splashing of rain down the drainpipes. 

The road is slick and it’s not very warm outside.

But we are

Cosy here.

Nestled under blankets with cushions cocooning us, we eat popcorn. 

We snuggle in front of the fire which pops, crackles and snaps, like the cereal,

But warmer.

As tiny animals in a burrow,

We entwine limbs closely, huddled. 

The birds do the same. 

Nesting and waiting for the late Scottish cold to leave,

And for the even later spring to arrive. 

We are warm,

We are comforted,

We are snug.

The rain plops lighter now on my roof.

RIVERS SECRET AMBITION BY KATIE MCENANEY (BASHFUL)

THE COZIEST BED BY EMILY KEIFER (COZY)

This needs some adjusting. A blanket or four 

will amp up the coziness factor some more.

I’ll stack all my stuffies surrounding the bed,

a pillow for under each limb and instead

of these plain cotton sheets I could use llama hair,

then snuggle my kitten, my book, and prepare 

to zzzz…

Except…this pillow’s lumpy, and that one is flat.

The kitten is more of a grumpy old cat.

The blankets are heavy, I can’t hardly turn,

and the teetering stuffie brigade makes me yearn

for my one special bear. And these llama hair sheets

are too warm for mid-summer. They tickle my feet.

Back to one pillow, one blanket was fine,

and these cotton sheets actually do feel divine.

Ahh. Perfect.

MAY BY ERIN PETTI (THANKFUL)

Dad hasn’t mowed the grass yet this spring, so I can hide in soft, green blades, puffy clumps of growing things.

The robin hops then, just like me, she stays so still. 

I close my eyes and feel sunshine on my skin. I bet she feels it on her feathers, gray and orange. Air for breathing, air for flying.

When I open my eyes I spy a new dandelion blooming bright. The robin nods, then spreads her wings away. 

I kiss the dandelion’s yellow head. I wait some more in the soft warm grass. Someday soon she’ll be a wish.

FIRST (AND LAST) GOAT YOGA CLASS BY KELLY CLASEN (CALM)

“We begin with tree pose.” 

I stretch tall, fingers to roots.  

My goat comes in near, 

strikes hooves in a rear, 

and lets out a ripple of toots. 

Ugh! Why did I get the stinky-winky goat? 

“Downward dog, please.” 

I strike a most perfect pose. 

Goat belts out a bleat,  

starts tasting my feet, 

and quickly moves onto my clothes. 

Ewww! Why did I get the icky-licky goat? 

“Now child’s pose, class.” 

I inhale into my gut. 

Goat paws at the ground, 

does one lap around, 

and rams straight into my— 

Now what?!? 

Goat looks UNsteady-Eddie!  

He drops to my mat,  

his head on my lap, 

eyes closed and snoring already. 

Ahhh. Zen, at last.  

Namaste, goat.  

CHINCHILLA NINJA BY MARIA PIÑERO POPE (SUS - SUSPICIOUS)

Melinda is expanding her entry into a full PB that she hopes to query in the future. 

BEATRICE BRONTOSAURUS BY LAURA POLASEK (BASHFUL)

A blushing brontosaurus is quite a sight to see.

And if you’re friends with Beatrice, you’ll see it frequently.

For almost any reason, her cheeks will start to glow – 

The ever-deepening redness across her face will grow.

Then south it turns, down it creeps, gleaming ever brighter,

And soon her whole neck shines like a fire burns inside her.

You may think that her blush cannot spread anymore,

But you’d be wrong, it carries on, down to meet the floor.

Head to tail she’s covered, her shyness on display;

This repeats, over and over, all throughout the day.

All this frequent colouring makes her poor heart sink,

But her friends all hug and say, “We love you when you’re pink!”

OH NO! MY FRO YO! BY NIKKI DEL VECCHIO (NO CHILL)

My five favorite words:

BUILD YOUR OWN FROZEN YOGURT

It’s an art. It’s a science. It’s GO TIME.

I’ll need vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. Mint and mocha. Birthday cake. And is that peanut butter and banana swirl? YES, PLEASE!

Add a sprinkle of sprinkles, a dollop of whipped cream, and a scoop of cookie dough. Some gummy worms, chocolate crunchies, and brownie bits. SQUISH ‘EM IN!

Now for a smidge of caramel and a smudge of hazelnut. DON’T DRIP A DROP!

And finally, a pump of hot fudge. 

Make that two. Three. Four. 

No, five. SIX. 

SEVEN!

OH NO! MY FRO YO!

It’s runny. It’s ruined. It’s a melted mess of mix-ins.

IT HAS NO CHILL!

New cup…

LET’S TRY AGAIN!

THE RELUCTANT STAR BY KELLY KATES (BASHFUL)

Sun peeked from behind Cloud and then quickly hid again.  

Everyone was waiting for her to make an appearance but she hated to be the center of attention. 

 All of her life, she had been told she was a star but she preferred to stay out of the spotlight.

“You got this”, cheered Mercury.  “I’m right behind you.”

“What’s the big deal,” huffed Mars.  “It’s not like the whole world revolves around you.”

“Well, actually . . .” interrupted Mercury.

Sun blushed, radiating heat.  Buds sprouted, reaching for her warmth.  She smiled as new leaves waved happily and she started to shine a little brighter.

It was finally spring.

 But, just remember, don’t look directly at the sun or she may hide away again.

FIRST PUSH BY RYAN RAE HARBUCK (PROUD)

C’mon, ready. . . get set. . . Go!

I wrap my hands around both wheels and give a one-two push.

Look forward, sit tall. Shoulders back.

I can keep up. I’ll do it myself.

Don’t need mom or dad to guide me now. It’s my turn to explore.

I decide.

I can choose right or left or wibbly-wobbly, or forward or backward or even spinning loops. Whenever I want.

I’m stronger and bigger. I fit where I sit.

The world is waiting— ramps and elevators and all.

I’m coming! Don’t care about sore hands. Don’t care about being different than my friends. All I care about is that I get to move on my own. Today I’m free!

It’s just me and my wheelchair.

WAITING ROOM WORRIES BY JENNA ELYSE JOHNSON (NERVOUS)

Paper crinkle-creases underneath me.

Beads of sweat trickle down my spine.

Trying not to squirm, I secure a smile into place. 

My only armor against white coats.

My tummy twists.

My fingernails are nibbled raw.

As footsteps draw closer, my heartbeat roars in my ears.

My cheeks burn like mid-afternoon August asphalt.

Can Mamma hear too? 

I take a deep breath and hold, until spots flood my vision.

Tears lurk. 

At last, the doctor enters, clipboard in hand.

“Let’s go to the lab.”

My legs tense as I follow past vast gray doors.

Then a sloppy, wet tongue surprises my cheek and a fluffy tail thumps at my side.

A giggle erupts and a real smile pops into place.

This is my kind of lab!

GOOD MORNING BY JAN SCHWAID (CRANKY)

I wake up covered in fur and spikes. 

Breakfast is wrong. Triangle toast. Too-cold juice.

The tag on my shirt itches. My socks bunch in my shoes.

My fur bristles. My spikes sharpen. 

We’re late. 

I snarl.

I stomp out of our apartment.

Then…

the worst thing happens. 

Dad pushes “down” to call the elevator. 

I yowl so loud it hurts. Tears fall hot. 

My spikes gleam needle-sharp. My fur stands on end.

Dad leans down. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” He wraps me in a hug and doesn’t care if the spikes scratch his skin. I hug back hard.

“Sometimes, my mornings feel monstrous, too,” says Dad.

The spikes go smooth, the fur falls away.

Inside the elevator, I let Dad press the button.

BARBECUE BETRAYAL BY MCKELLE ANDERSON (GLOOMY)

With twitching nose, I’m on my feet.        

There’s heaven on the breeze.        

A whiff of smokey meat and buns        

And melting, cheddar cheese.        

Last time you made this glorious meat        

On plates out on the lawn,

I helped myself to everything

Til’ everything was gone.        

 You chased me round and round the yard        

While shouting, “Cooper, no!”        

I loved that perfect game of tag        

With bags of buns in tow.        

But as I smell the smell this time,        

you lock the doggy door,        

You fill a bowl with boring stuff.        

An insult on the floor.        

My scrumptious hopes are fading.

My dreams can’t be pursued.

My tail will droop eternally

If I can’t eat your food.

FIREWORKS BY LAURA SPRTEL (EAGER)

We packed the picnic basket with our favorite snacks. 

Dad spread the blanket across the grass. 

I had been waiting for this moment all year. 

“How much longer?” I asked, bouncing on my toes. 

“When the sky gets dark.” Dad smiled, handing me a popsicle. 

The park grew crowded. Music filled the air. Giggling children zig-zagged between blankets. Glow sticks and sparklers streaked by. 

In the distance I heard a pop and a screech. My eyes grew wide. Any minute now!

Fireflies flickered on and off. Excitement hung in the air. 

Flash. BOOM. A sparkle of bright light showered the fading sky. 

“Dad!” I tugged on his arm, pointing to the sky. “It’s starting!”

BOOM. Crash! The fireworks show had begun!

CRANKY CRAB AND THE COCONUT TREE BY SHARON JACKSON (CRANKY)

A crab climbed up a coconut tree,

hoping to grab a big meal.

He slipped, then he flipped,

rolling right down the trunk,

and bumped on the ground with a squeal.

He criss crossed his claws,

and stomped on his legs,

and let out a frustrated moan.

The other crabs asked, “What happened to you?”

But he hissed, saying, “Leave me alone!”

He shouted, “This tree

is the worst tree of all!”

And gave it a whack and a punch.

Then the coconut loosened and fell on his head

And the seagulls lined up for some lunch.

THE INVITATION: YOUR CURIOUS SELF BECKONS BY RAINA HASSAN (CURIOUS)

Adventure calls!

Come with me.

Wander, look, explore, 

and see.

Something different can often be

a chance for ingenuity

to open doors and paths and drawers—

offering 

opportunity.

When something’s new

you might feel mad.

Scared or lost, 

confused or sad.

Take my hand 

and soon you’ll see

a world of 

possibility.

‘Cause something new can often be

a chance for 

flexibility

to open hearts and minds and arms—

expanding your 

community.

Fresh perspectives to discover,

secret treasures to uncover.

Adventures, 

friends, 

new ways to be—

right next door, across the sea.

Puzzling paths in a woodland place,

tremendous views of outer space.

Tiny atom,

Milky Way—

Let’s go,

discover, 

look, 

and play.

Inside, 

outside,

big 

and small—

together, 

let’s explore it all!

SHE RUNS BY SHERI BENTLEY (POWERFUL)

Running wild

Feeling free

Pushing herself

Pulling herself

The highs

The lows

Her soul

Her soles

Rhythmically pulsating

Pummeling the pavement

Her gait staccato

Her stride smooth

She’s a loud lioness

A graceful gazelle

She flies

She soars

She leaps

She roars

Bouncing and pouncing

In search of the prize

Nature is her stage

The sky is her song

The wind is her weapon

The pavement her pawn

She’s the queen in the chess match

The jewel in the jungle

The treasure in the triumph

The magic in the struggle

Unleashing herself

She rolls and she rocks

She dashes and sprints

She toils and unlocks

Emancipated

Illuminated

Dedicated

Alive

THE GOAL KEEPER BY KATIE LEE REINERT (NERVOUS)

She squinted into the sun.

Who had the ball?  The field felt so big from her goal box. 

Was it the other team?  She still couldn’t tell.  She wiped the sweat from her forehead.  Checked her position.

The crowd cheered.  Suddenly the ball came into focus.  A breakaway.  Headed straight for her.  

Her body came alive, energy coursing through her legs and down her arms, into her fingers.

Left.  Right.  Left again.  Following every movement.  

Time slowed.

Could she anticipate the direction?  Could she be faster than the ball?  Could she beat her opponent?

The kick!  With a surge, she leaped.  Time stopped.  She reached out.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Smack!  

Silence.

Standing, she dropped the ball to the ground. 

This time they cheered for her.

NATURE'S LULLABIES BY JULIE HAUSWIRTH (COZY)

It’s our first night sleeping under the stars.

Our bellies are full of ooey-gooey s’mores.

We wear matching flannel jammies,

                and my brother cuddles his favorite stuffed bear.

The warm, dim glow of the lantern makes our little tent feel like home.

Fireflies flash in our mason jars.

Cicadas sing a lullaby, their buzz carried by the gentle breeze.

I drift off to sleep, snuggled tightly in my soft sleeping bag.

Suddenly, a rumble of thunder shakes me awake.

I guide my brother through the darkness.

Memory leads the way—

                  Through the back door,

                           tiptoe up the stairs,

                                        second door on the right…

Straight into the familiar comfort of Mom and Dad’s bed,

                where the rain on the windows sings us back to sleep.

THE FLIGHT OF IDEAS BY ANNE LIPTON (CURIOUS)

I wake up every morning 

and fly out my front door.

Why can’t I fly like starlings

on wings that swoop and soar?

I watch their murmuration,

a drifting black sand dune.

Why can’t they fly to Jupiter?

Or even to the Moon?

I 3D print a telescope

to relish reddish Mars.

How do you build a rocket ship

and navigate the stars?

I wake up with the egg-yolk sun

and wave to Mercury,

view Venus in her milky cloud

and learn astronomy.

I’ll run rings ’round Saturn

and sail to Neptune, too.

(Uranus farts methane gas—

I’ll skip that stinky stew.)

But sleep is my first mission,

and if you wonder why—

ideas often flock to me,

and, in my dreams, I fly!

EAGER, MOMENT BY MOMENT BY DIANE MITTLER (EAGER)

“Is he here yet?"

Grandma smiles, “Not yet, but probably today.”

While we wait, we work a puzzle together, piece by piece.

“I think my new brother will like the shark one best.”

“Is he here yet?”

Papa laughs, “He’s on his way!”

To pass the time, we read together, page by page.

“I think my new brother will like the wild things best.”

“Is he here yet?”

Dad hugs me, “Yes!”

Down the long hallway, we hurry together, step by step.

“I think my new brother will like ME best.”

“Where is he?”

Mama beckons, “Over here.”

Finally, we snuggle together, side by side.

“I know I love him best of all.

TRICERA-CHOPS BY BRI LAWYER (SUS-SUSPICIOUS)

Three triceratops upon a hill.

*Chomp*

Now only two.

T. Rex didn’t eat it. Even though his mouth watered just looking at it. 

It was probably Brachiosaurus.

“Uh, I’m an herbivore.”

Two triceratops upon a hill.

*Gulp*

Now only one.

T. Rex definitely didn’t eat it. Even though his stomach growled just thinking about it. 

It was probably Compsognathus.

“Um, I weigh four pounds.”

One triceratops upon a hill.

Nom-Nom-Nom

Now none.

T. Rex for sure, truly didn’t eat it. Even though he really REALLY wanted to.

Wait a second… T. Rex, are you using that horn as a toothpick?

Are you *sure* you didn’t eat them?

Well, I can't blame you. Jurassic times call for Jurassic measures. 

And Tricera-CHOPS are delicious!

BLUE BY ASHLEY KARGES (GLOOMY)

Blue was a dreary rain cloud. 

When he rolled in, the day darkened. Glee became gloom. People packed up picnics. Kids clamored indoors. Though Blue only wished to enjoy their company. 

“Follow us, Blue!” Cloud friends flittered with ease - up, up, and away! But Blue trudged along, hanging low, feeling heavy.

One afternoon, Blue approached a girl, alone, tears rolling down her cheeks. At her tears, Blue was overcome with a wash of feelings. And something new happened.

A raindrop. Drip! Then, pitter patter. Next, Blue let everything go! The girl lifted her face. After the shower, she wiped her eyes, took a breath, and smiled. “Thank you, nice cloud. I feel better.” And for the first time, Blue felt better too. 

SLOW DAYS BY AMY CHINI (CALM)

Slow days are for stretching out in the yard,

No one rushing me,

Or calling me inside.

Days for keeping my cheek close to the cool ground

And watching the ants work and work.

Slow days are for lying on my back,

Squinting up to the sky

Searching the clouds for pirates.

Slow days are quiet days.

No come-alongs or hurry-ups,

Or shoelaces needing tying.

Just the rubby sound of my toes in the grass, 

And the rougher sounds of my skin

On the sun-warmed sidewalk.

Slow days are for thinking about kites,

And all types of birds,

And things that take time.

On slow days, the only things I feel 

Come from inside of me.

Which is good and different and feels

Just right.

LULU BY JILLIAN DOBSON (BASHFUL)

I’m in charge of our classroom pet, this week.

I follow the instructions carefully.

“Place the food bowl into the terrarium slowly, Lulu’s shy,” says Mrs. Lee. 

But I know that already.

Lulu mirrors my reflection. She waits and watches from the corner while I stand as still as a statue. I breathe slowly, so I don’t fog up the glass. She tucks her legs the same way I draw mine into my extra long sleeves. 

When the loud bell goes “BRRRING-BRRRING-BRRRING” she pulls her head inside of her shell as quickly as I pull my turtle-neck over my chin, both of us shrinking from the noise.

We need a little time and space before we feel brave enough to come out of our shells.

CRIMSON FOX BY ANGEL TATE (NERVOUS)

Once upon a snowy day

A crimson fox came out to play.

Though vague, I recognized his shape. 

With fear, I chose then, to escape.

On yet another snowy day

I saw that fox and heard him say, 

please be my friend, I do not bite.

So now it is with great delight,

That I can say, that we are friends.

But, that’s not how this story ends. 

Fox asked me over to his den

to have some tea and cakes, and then…

He packed some up for me to take. 

Both buttered rum and carrot cake.

And as I trekked home through the snow.

I thought about just days ago.

I ran from fox. But in the end, 

That fox became my bestest friend.

TRICKY TROUT BY DANIELLA KAUFMAN (MISCHEVIOUS)

A glint. A WHISH. There goes a fish!

It’s Finn the tricky trout.

He’s clever! Quick! Bold and slick

when other fish feel doubt.

Finn slyly glides until he spies

a hook that catches fish.

His school of trout shout, “Swim away!”

But Finn just smirks and. . .SWISH!

He dives to dig through sediment.

Retrieves a plastic cup.

Then taps the hook. It snags his bait

and WHOOSH the cup goes up!

PLIP-PLOP! The hook appears again.

He loads a nylon tote. 

Soon all the litter loot is gone!

Fin surfaces to gloat.

A voice explodes, “That tricky trout!!!”

Finn adds a taunting splash.

When fish ask, why? Finn winks an eye.

“Just taking out the trash.”

THE BIRD IN MY CHEST BY MELINDA SCULLY (NERVOUS)

Melinda is expanding her entry into a full PB that she hopes to query in the future. 

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Scroll to read the 2023 honorable mention entries.
Note: Some authors are expanding their entries into picture books they hope to query at some point, therefore not all entries are listed below.

IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING BY TRENISE FERREIRA (POWERFUL)

When Harry Lewis was born enslaved, it seemed impossible he’d find freedom and become a heralded horseman.

When Lexington was an unruly colt with promise but no polish, it seemed impossible he’d become a champion.

When they teamed up, it seemed impossible they’d power their way to podiums.

When they thundered down the track, it seemed impossible they’d set records – running four miles in under eight minutes – and triumph in six of seven straight races.

When Lexington lost his sight, it seemed impossible he’d leave a legacy.

And when Lewis and Lexington retired, it seemed impossible they’d sow the seeds of a family tree that’s sprouted 230 champions and 12 Triple Crown winners like Secretariat, Affirmed, and Justify.

But they did.

Because impossible is nothing.  

THE PIE SPY - A BAKER'S BURROW MYSTERY BY CARRIE KARNES-FANNIN (COZY)

Autumn rain pattered on the burrow’s window and sugar wafted into the air as they opened the old trunk. “Granny was Watson Woods’ best baker ever,” Blanche said. “I hope her recipes are in here.”

Max’s long ears flopped in his face while he rummaged inside. He held up some yellowed papers tied with twine. “Is this a cookbook?”

Blanche struggled to make out the old-fashioned handwriting. “The Case...of...the...Pie Spy.”

“Detective notes?” Max clapped his paws together. “Ooh, delicious...let’s read them!”

“Now?”

“Pretty please?” 

Blanche laughed. “Oh, who could say ‘no’ to that face?”

Max settled against her shoulder with a contented sigh as Blanche began to read. “My latest creation was cooling on the windowsill when the stranger knocked...”

MY FAVORITE THING BY SARA KRUGER (TICKLED)

Flannel that is soft and warm

That tie I gave my dad

Those silky ribbons from Mom’s hat

The scarves my sister had

Feathers of all shapes and sizes

Pom poms never fused

Felt sheets folded into squares

A paintbrush never used

Flower petals warm with sun

A velvet lambs ear leaf

Grass pulled from the lawn today

A pussy willow sheaf

Lips that sputter raspberries

A waterfall of hair

Fingers lightly creeping, crawling, 

Seeking skin that’s bare

My siblings sneak attack me 

Using all these things and more

I know that I don’t stand a chance

I’ll end up on the floor 

You’ve heard of “tickle torture”, well

My siblings can be reckless.

But that’s ok—my favorite thing

Is being tickled breathless!

SUNDAY SCARIES BY JENN KIM (NERVOUS)

Every Sunday, 

a dark cloud hangs

over my head.

A storm brews—waits—

to cover me whole, and flood me with tears.

For tomorrow, I will be reminded

that I don’t like eye contact.

That lunch has too many smells

and that no one else likes to talk to themselves. 

For tomorrow, I will hear 

jokes that I don’t understand.

Frustrated voices when calling my name

and giggles behind my back.

For tomorrow, I will be told

to hurry up and slow down.

To get out of the way and stand here. 

To be like this and not like that. 

But I am like that.

So I wait, 

with my dark cloud

every Sunday. 

I should buy an umbrella.

FIREFLIES & PAJAMAS BY ELLEN KOHLMAN (COZY)

Grandma rocking on the porch.

Kitty purrs in her lap.

Puppy stretches nearby.

Daddy sips the last of the lemonade. 

Honeysuckle wafts heavy in the air. 

Fireflies appear.

Playtime is done; sandbox is closed.

Dump truck and shovel are put away.

Clothes fill the hamper.

Warm water swirls; bubbles fill the tub.

Scrub and soak.

Fresh soft pajamas.

Mr. Moon shines in the window. 

"Read me a story."

Momma's soothing voice floats around the room. 

"Where's my Beary?"

Snuggles under the blanket.

"What's that noise?"

"It's the peeper frogs singing you to sleep."

Curtains ruffle in a soft breeze.

A quiet yawn.

"Sleep well our angel."

Boy and Beary sweetly dream.

MAYBE THE SUN WILL COME OUT TOMORROW... BY KATHLEEN MACEACHERN (GLOOMY)

It all started with unexpected rain,

    then her dad ate her waffles,

            her favourite sweater was is the wash,

                            And her pencil case with the pretty yellow flowers had a hole in it.

The books on shelf had all been read,

                 and the puzzles tucked away, 

                        The colouring books all filled in,

                                    and the bottle of glitter completely empty….

Karlie decided the only thing to do was find the biggest, coziest blanket in the house and 

hide under it for the rest of the day.  

                 She didn’t expect to find her sister already under the blanket.

Dad also had eaten Jenna’s favourite granola bars,

                                            and the rain had cancelled her soccer game.

Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow. 

THE STORM BY MELISSA MILES (POWERFUL)
Rain falls. Pitter-pat. Pitter-pat.

Puddles form. Splat! Splat!

Rumble. Crack!

Lucy jumps. 

POP. Power’s out. 

The room plunges into darkness.

Her puppy shivers. Lucy’s lip quivers. 

Mommy shines a flashlight. She makes shadow bunnies dance on the wall.

Lucy laughs. 

Until…

Crack! The windows rattle. 

The laugh sticks in her throat. 

Each BOOM from outside

vibrates in her chest. 

Lucy hugs her puppy. 

His shivers have become shakes. 

The poor little guy is scared to death. 

“We’ll build a fort,” she tells him. 

It’s cozy inside.

The lightning flashes dim.

The thunder claps quieten. 

WEE LITTLE WATER DROPLET BY LAURA WIPPELL (PROUD)

Can you see me?

I’m that wee little water droplet.

Slipping and sliding along frothy waves.

It’s a roller coaster!

And a bit much...

I sink beneath the surface.

Feeling dizzy! 

The sun burns.

The sea is getting hot...

TOO HOT! 

I need to get out!

I let go…

Look up!  

I'm flying!

Feeling giddy and free!

Now I’m REALLY high up.

You’re just a little speck.

BRRRRRRR!

It’s chilly up here!

I search for others.

We cuddle.

And condense.

Feeling content.

Uggghh… I’m feeling heavy.

We stop cuddling, and let go…

A BUNDLE OF NERVES BY JUDY SOBANSKI (NERVOUS)

I know all the words.

I’ve memorized lines.

My pirate shirt’s baggy 

but my peg leg fits fine.

Still…

What if my parrot 

falls on the floor?

What if my ARRRGH!

comes out as a ROAAR!

What if I drop my

big plastic sword?

Or slip on the ship

and sail overboard?

I’m nervous and scared.

My stomach is swirling.

It’s all I can do

to keep it from hurling!

Still…

I know I’m prepared.

I’m ready to go.

I reek confidence;

it’s on with the show!

I step out on stage,

raise my sword to the sky.

Twitters start small but

they soon amplify.

I feel a slight breeze

and I wonder by chance?

I quickly glance down…

I’ve forgotten my pants!

BUTTERFLY IN MY TUMMY BY EMY MCCARTHY (NERVOUS)

The butterflies are churning,

And my legs are wobbly.

“UGH! I can’t do this!”

Anywhere but here would do.

Everyone is smiling, 

But what if they feel just like me? 

Could the smile be a mask?

The girl ahead is tapping her feet.

The boy near is dripping in sweat.

Behind me, a girl is twirling her hair. 

“PHEW! I’m not alone.”

Looking down at my tummy, 

My thoughts are with the butterflies. 

I’m holding them captive.

I need to give them freedom,

In order to be free.

I think back to Mom’s mantra,

In…

Out…

1…

2…

Every breath cools my fears,

And…

Little by little…

The butterflies flutter away.

NO CROQUET BY BESTY MCGOVERN (GLOOMY)

The steamer whistle shrieked. Edith clapped her hands to her ears, wincing.

Around her people gathered at the railing, chattering excitedly. Their high spirits seemed to slide from her, like raindrops from an umbrella.

This would not be the summer she wanted. No pony rides, no croquet on the lawn, no picnics with rose cakes.

Instead: an island far out to sea, dripping wet and reeking of whale oil, or so she imagined. 

The harbor and town came into view, grey and misty. Her shoulders slumped another inch.

“Chin up. Let’s march,” said her aunt. 

They bumped down a gangway to a wharf crowded with tourists, carts, and baggage. 

Edith sniffed the briny air. 

There it was.

Her heart sank.

Whale.

ANABEL'S COZY DAY BY JESS BURBANK (COZY)

Outside glares.

Blue sky. Sunshine. 

Again.

“Ready to go?” Mama asks. 

Another perfect weather Beach Day? 

"No," I say, "I want...Cozy Day!"

“Cozy Day sounds lovely, Annabel, but…how?” wonders Mama.

“I know how!" I reply, "Let me show you:"

Wiggle swimsuits off,

pull pajamas back on.

Whirrr-whirrr-brrrr,

Turn every fan high.

Move sprinklers--

pitter-patter roof rain,

dribble-drabble window rivers.

Flicker-the-switch lightning,

pots, pans, metal spoon thunder. 

Boom-boom, ker-crash! 

Make mmm-melty grilled cheese,

drip-drip-drippy soup slurps,

warm tummies.

Draaag, plop!

Blanket nest.

Try purple yarn finger-knitting. 

Tangle-trapped, “Oops! I made another nest.”

Grunt, whooaaa, teeter-totter book stack tower. 

“Read one from the top!”

Sprinkle spices,

stir stovetop apple juice.

Cinnamon sniffs, 

careful sips.

Then,

curl up cat-like on the couch for long, cuddly Cozy Day naps.

KEEPING CALM BY MARY-CATHERINE AMADU (CALM)

Once I caught Calm. 

It was super sweet, 

and I wanted to keep it,

but Calm slipped through my fingers 

like my cup of chocolate milk. 

So I set a trap for Calm. 

I built it with blankets, pillows, and stuffies. 

The trap worked! 

That is, until Calm ran away 

like my little brother 

who destroys EVERYTHING. 

Calm was a good runner.  

But could Calm swim?    

I filled my tub and added bubbles.

EVERYBODY loves bubbles.  

Including Calm!

But after a while, Calm dived deep down

like my Dad’s frown

when he saw our mess.   

Maybe Calm isn’t the kind of thing

I can keep for always. 

But I still like it. 

I think Calm likes me too

because it just keeps coming back. 

THE COZY CHAIR BY TODD W BEETON (COZY)

This cozy chair

None can compare,

It fills each life’s desire.

In winter time

It’s quite sublime,

To sit here by the fire.

The same for Spring,

It’s comforting

The way the sun’s rays warm me.

That late day light

It hits just right

As though designed just for me.

Then, summer too

With window view

I watch the birds all flitting 

As A/C blows

Upon my nose,

Directly where I’m sitting. 

When autumn comes,

The heater hums,

To quell this drafty feeling

And right on cue,

I know: it’s you,

This chair you’ll soon be stealing.

You sit right down

I shift around

And take my prized position

Upon your lap

To take my nap

Each day’s purrr-fect tradition.

2022 #KIDLITVIBES WINNERS & HONORABLE MENTIONS

WINNERS

Scroll to read the winning entries.  The feels are listed in parantheses after the title and author.
Note: Some authors are expanding their entries into picture books they hope to query at some point, therefore not all entries are listed below.

S'MORE PLEASE BY SARAH CLAXTON (JOY)

The crackles get a little louder and my face heats up as I step closer. Pop! A bright ember floats to the ground. Slowly slowly turn the stick, I like them nice and toasty all around. Oops! A little too close! Hurry, blow! My chest fills with laughter as I reach for the bottom piece. Two chocolate squares placed evenly across, I squeeze my marshmallow down and push the top cracker on it. As I squeeze I pull out the stick, the end gooey and sticky. I wait a minute for it to cool, then I take a bite and it melts in my mouth. 

“Who wants another one?” Dad asks. 

“S’more please!”

GARDEN'S GATE BY ERIN QUILL (JOY)

Garden stared at the closed iron gates with speared tips at the top. 

The sky wept for Garden. 

Golden sunflowers, wine-colored roses, and 

navy-blue hydrangeas—all locked away.

Garden wanted visitors: animals, people, friends. 

No one walked through the garden in years.

Petals dropped and leaves fell to the ground each successive year Garden was left alone. 

Until a lonely child found the gate.  

After climbing a tree by the garden wall, she dropped to the ground within Garden. 

Garden perked up. 

Each minute the child stayed, Garden’s flowers blossomed until Garden felt beautiful again. 

The child smiled, sat, and read a book. 

Sun beams lit up Garden as the rain clouds drifted away. 

The girl left, but returned to open Garden’s gate. 

DECISIONS, DECISIONS BY COLLEEN MURPHY (ANTSY)

Back and forth and back and forth

and back and forth she paced.

Her hands atop her curly hair;

her fingers interlaced.

Every now and then she paused,

“I’ll take a…” she’d say.

But when she looked inside the case,

she’d shrug and walk away.

So…

back to back and forth she went,

until she heard a voice,

“Eliza, we’re about to close.

You need to make a choice.”

“Ugh,” she sighed. “I said,” she cried,

“I’d try out something new.

But what if I don’t like the taste?

I don’t know what to do!”

She swiftly finished one more lap,

then gave herself a squeeze.

“Okay. I’ll take the usual…

but add some sprinkles please.”

MIDSUMMER MORNING BY JENNIFER THOMAS (CHIPPER)

The sun is up! I hear the birds!

I’m feeling bright and chipper.

I toss my blanket to the ground;

Can’t find my missing slipper.

With one bare foot I bounce downstairs

And trip on snoozing Coal.

He wakes and snarfs the Frooty-Puffs

That land outside my bowl. 

I yank the drawer of cutlery;

It drops and hits the floor.

I turn around and grab the milk;

It’s kinda hard to pour.

Now spoons and forks and knives and milk

Are splattered ‘round the pup.

He slurps with glee and knocks my knee;

I fall and lose my cup. 

“Hi, Mom! How long have you been there?

You look like you’re in shock.”

“Go back to bed, oh won’t you please?

It’s only five o’clock!”

CEMETERY HUNT BY ANDI CHITTY (HEEBIE-JEEBIES)

I crouch low and pull my knees in, trying to make myself smaller. 

My back presses against the cool marble gravestone. 

I should have run farther. 

I should have- 

Footsteps. 

My heart pounds. 

dunDUN 

dunDUN 

dunDUN

I close my eyes and steady my breathing as the night breeze blows. 

A strand of hair tickles my nose. 

Don’t move. 

Listen. 

The footsteps are faint… slow. 

Searching.

I turn my head to hear, but a spiderweb hits my face. 

Something crawls onto my cheek and I tense. 

I feel each of its eight legs. 

But I can’t move.

He’s right there. 

Right-

“Found you!” he yells. “Nice spot!”

I jump up and brush my face, giggling with relief. 

“Ok, this time you hide, and I’ll seek!”

THE GRUMBLE THAT GREW BY EMILY KEIFER (HANGRY)

From his cavernous tum, leaked an unearthly hum—

Burbled and gurgled and surged

Relentlessly growing, the grumble not slowing—

Curdled and hurdled and merged

From his vacant insides, hunger clambered and pried—

Spreading, embedding, and wedged

He thrashed all around til his blocks toppled down—

Upsetting, regretting, and dredged

He shot mom a pout fringed with falsetto shouts—

Heated, repeated, and peaked

The tower went flying, then shouts turned to crying—

Defeated, depleted, rose-cheeked

Here comes a tray filled with pretzels and fruit—

Munching and crunching and crumbs

The anger subsides with replenished insides—

Brunching and lunching and hums

Refill the tray and Mom sits down to play—

Invited, united, beside

The blocks are collected, the tower corrected—

Delighted, excited, dry-eyed

UNCLE JACK'S ATTIC BY SJ WINKLER (MYSTERIOUS) 

Read the expanded story and see the amazing illustrations on SJ's site HERE!

No one is allowed up here, 

but I have to look. 

I need to know if the rumors are true. 

The light in Uncle Jack’s attic never stops flickering. It sways on its dusty cord in the rafters, buzzing like the horseflies trapped in his barn. Dust invades my nose. I know it wants me to sneeze, stumble, and retreat. My shoulders grow heavier. The air itself wants to push me away. The stairs are loudest of all. If I listen too close to their creaking, I can hear threats of collapse in their groans. Even the stair rail tries to snag my skin with splinters, but nothing is going to stop me from opening the locked trunk in the corner. 

Not after last time.

THE MISTAKE BY KATIE BRANDYBERRY (AWKWARD)

After two weeks in the new house and one week at the new school, Layla still had zero friends. 

But, that was about to change because Haley invited the whole class to her birthday party. 

Layla made the sparkliest card, then counted down the days. 

Finally, Sunday arrived. 

"Hello?" Haley's eyes widened when she saw Layla at the door. "Oh. The party was yesterday..."

Layla's jaw dropped. She missed the party?         

She stood silent. How could she get the day wrong? 

She stared down. "Oh. Well..."

Her eyes welled up as she handed over the card. "Er... happy birthday..."  

"But we still have lots of cupcakes! C'mon in!"        

Before long, there were zero cupcakes left, and one house filled with giggles from two new friends.

MAYA'S MORNING MYSTERY BY SARAH MEADE (MYSTERIOUS)

“It’s finally here!” 

Maya bounces out of bed and throws open her door.

Silence.

No colorful streamers.

Huh?

Maya tiptoes downstairs.

No chocolate-chip-pancake smells.

What?

Maya steps into the kitchen.

No shiny balloon by her chair.

Nobody singing.

“Hello?” Maya calls. 

She wanders from room to room.

“Mom?”

“Grams?”

“Leo?”

Maya sighs. 

Where is everyone?

Did they forget?

Then she hears something. 

Music?

In the backyard!

Maya hurries outside.

The cheery music gets louder.

But no one is there! 

Maya follows the music . . . 

All the way to the big tree.

Maya gasps.

A ladder . . . and a TREEHOUSE!

She climbs up. 

Her heart hammers.

She pushes open the door.

Streamers! Balloons! Doughnuts!

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAYA!” 

Mom, Grams, and Leo sing.

Maya grins. “Best birthday surprise ever.”   

BACK IN THREE SECONDS BY ABBY VOSS (DEJA VU)

What an interesting castle! thought Dougal, staring at the smooth brick, and admiring the jade-green paintwork. The oddest feeling crept over him that he’d seen it before.

Dougal swept past, not really thinking where he was going until he came across another castle; exactly the same. Even down to the flag fluttering on one of the turrets. How odd! thought Dougal, that castle looks familiar. And he darted away again. 

Wait! Who are these strange creatures? Why are they staring?

“Mummy – is it true that goldfish only have a three-second memory?” asked the smaller of the two.

Odd question! thought Dougal, swishing his tail to propel him smoothly across his tank. 

Goodness! What a pretty castle! Though I feel sure I’ve seen it before.

THE SOMETIME HOUSE BY CARRIE KARNES-FANNIN (LONGING)

A sometime house dreams  

of man, woman, boy, girl as 

sweet summer arrives.  

At dawn dolphins play,  

fishermen throw silver nets,  

And the house awakes.  

Man, woman, boy, girl  

fill rooms with golden pancakes  

and sticky laughter.  

White curtains flutter  

and bees hum as the sun warms  

the old cottage's face. 

Small hands dig sand and 

man, woman, boy, girl’s tender  

gritty toes trudge home.  

Under lazy rains  

the worn boards shift and settle, 

but the old house stands.  

Golden leaves dropping,  

creaking rocking chairs hold close  

man, woman, boy, girl.  

Fiery foxes hunt  

while boats sleep on the black bay. 

House shutters its eyes.  

A bare pale cottage  

dreams of man, woman, boy, girl— 

sweet summer come back. 

THAT AWKWARD MOMENT WHEN BY EMILY DURANT (AWKWARD)

Mom, I have something to show you

I’ll tug on your pants ‘til you look

Your eyes won’t believe

This trick up my sleeve

And all of the practice it took!

It feels like you can’t even hear me

When your friends are around it’s the worst

Stop chatting away

And come watch me play!

If you don’t look I think I might burst

Mom, are you paying attention?

I’m tugging with all of my might!

What’s wrong with your ears?

I’ve been tugging for years!

Won’t you acknowledge my plight?

Mom, you will think it’s outstanding

This move I can do is the bomb!

Just wait ‘til you see

Pay attention to me!

EEK!— You’re not my mom!

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Scroll to read the honorable mention entries.
Note: Some authors are expanding their entries into picture books they hope to query at some point, therefore not all entries are listed below.

ENTRIES TO FOLLOW...