“Perfect”
by Sarah Shelley, Flinders Christian Community College
Years 11 – 12 Written Poetry Finalist
In the supermarket lights,
everything is arranged like it’s trying to be chosen.
Apples lined up in perfect rows,
all the same shine,
all pretending they didn’t bump into each other to get here.
I pick one up,
turn it in my hand
like I’m deciding what “good” looks like.
The labels matter more than they should.
Organic. Perfect. Extra sweet.
As if fruit can pass or fail at being fruit.
Bananas are judged for their curves
before anyone even tastes them.
I hear someone say,
“Don’t pick that one, it’s bruised,”
like damage is contagious.
The grapes are packaged too tightly,
like they’re not allowed to spread out
or take up too much space.
I notice how fast people decide
what’s worth putting in their basket.
The strawberries are all the same size
like they went through a test
none of them agreed to.
I start thinking about timing.
Too green = not ready.
Too soft = too late.
There’s only a narrow moment
where something is considered “right.”
And I stand there
wondering when I started feeling like fruit
on a shelf.
Something people glance at
before choosing something better.
The peaches look perfect from far away,
but no one talks about how easily they bruise
when you’re not careful with them.
I put one apple back,
then pick it up again,
like I can’t decide if it deserves me
or I deserve it.
The checkout beep sounds final.
Like once you’re chosen,
that’s who you are.
And I realise
it was never really about fruit.
It was about being seen
and deciding
if that felt like enough.
How did writing this poem make you feel?
Writing this poem felt like slowing down something that usually moves too fast in my head.
It had a quiet, reflective tone, like paying attention to small details (fruit, labels, choosing, timing) and letting them carry something heavier underneath. That process felt thoughtful rather than emotional in a dramatic way; more like noticing patterns in how people think about worth and comparison.
There was also a sense of building something indirect on purpose, saying one thing on the surface while letting another meaning sit underneath it. That made it feel a bit like layering, where each image added to a bigger idea without needing to state it outright.
Overall, it felt like trying to turn an abstract feeling into something concrete and relatable, so it could be understood without needing to explain it directly.
Which single line in your poem are you the absolute proudest of?
The line I’m most proud of is, ‘As if fruit can pass or fail at being fruit’. I think I love it because it came from noticing something so ordinary and then realising how strange it actually is. We put so much pressure on things, and on ourselves, to be the ‘right’ version of something, when maybe existing as you are should already be enough.
Describe your poem in three words
Perfection, vulnerability, belonging.
To me, ‘Perfect’ is about that quiet feeling of wondering how other people see you, comparing yourself without always meaning to, and trying to work out whether being seen and chosen is the same thing as feeling like you are enough.
Where is your absolute favourite place to sit when you are brainstorming ideas?
I don’t think I have one perfect brainstorming place because most of my ideas seem to appear when I’m doing something completely unrelated. Usually, something small catches my attention and my mind just keeps pulling at it until there is an idea I want to write down.
What skills do you think you strengthened through writing this poem?
Writing this poem strengthened a few important skills that sit under both creative writing and communication.
One of the main ones is using metaphor and symbolism. Taking something everyday (fruit) and letting it carry a deeper meaning takes practice in thinking abstractly and connecting ideas that aren’t obviously linked.
It also strengthened subtext and subtle communication — the ability to suggest a message without directly stating it. That’s a really powerful skill in writing because it lets the reader discover meaning rather than just being told it.
Another skill is precision with language. Poetry forces you to choose words carefully, because every line has to earn its place. That builds awareness of tone, rhythm, and emotional impact.
It also involves structuring ideas creatively, rather than in a straightforward paragraph. Deciding how to move between images (like fruit types, shopping, and comparison) helps with organising ideas in a way that builds meaning gradually.
Finally, it strengthens empathy and perspective-taking, because the poem is based on how people might experience judgement or self-doubt. Translating that into images helps you understand feelings in a more layered way.
Why do you think people write poetry?
People write poetry because it gives them a way to say things that don’t fit neatly into normal speech.
Sometimes it’s about emotions that feel too complicated, too private, or too intense to explain directly. Poetry lets people slow those feelings down, shape them, and make them easier to understand, both for themselves and for others.
It can also be a way to notice things more closely. Ordinary moments (like fruit in a bowl, a conversation, a memory) can become meaningful when you look at them differently. Poetry turns everyday life into something worth paying attention to.
For many people, it’s also about connection. Even when a poem is personal, it often touches something universal, like self-doubt, love, change, or pressure. So writing poetry can help someone feel less alone, and help readers feel understood too.
In a way, poetry is just a way of taking thoughts that feel messy inside your head and giving them a form that others can step into.