Tuesday, June 1, 2010


Devin Lujan

Art Cover Contest Grand Prize Winner
Devin Lujan

Bountiful High School's 2010 Literary Magazine Blog

Welcome and happy reading!

This Is The Color...

Jacob Cardinal

this is the color is...

a conflagration of emotion and words...
a gathering of diverse thoughts and opinions...
an explosion of feelings and ideas...
the emotions we wish to shout out loud...
can you feel my color?...
tampering with my eyelids...
a tamed thought that yearns to be set free...
students swarmed like bees at a hive...
ords and stuff...
a tempest of words and cares . . .
wind whispers to those immobile...
hands digging into the remains of my hips...
a place for us to showcase our verbose brain spew...
an explosion of the imagination...
a portrait of love, hate, joy, envy, and infinite other emotions...
an empty shell on the beach...
a bird calling to me...
thoughts and ideas of a class full of young minds...
mixtures of the thoughts of the world...
a swirl of emotion, of thoughts, of cares, of opinions...
the confrontation of ageless yellow and naive violet...
the meeting of collective ocean and single sand....
the sun that drips like rain drops from the sky...
the void in this collection of minds...

Writing Contest First Place: Snow Globe Nostalgia - Erica Farnes

Clint Irwin

Snow Globe Nostalgia
Erica Farnes

I love snow globes. I love to run my hands over the glass, to feel the cool smoothness of perfection. I love to peer at the innocent scene inside that perfect little world. I love to gingerly pick it up and turn it over, every nerve on end praying I don't lose my grip. I love to quickly set it right, before my luck runs out and I drop it. I love to watch the snow fall, wondering what it's made of, and what it would feel like outside its watered dome.

I have my own snow globe. I don't touch it much. The chaos of snow is nice, but it's not worth the risk of shattering glass. I keep it on my shelf. It's surrounded by other happy knik-knacks and random sentimental pictures. I keep it safe and upright. I keep it from falling.

She has a snow globe, too. I suppose if she could, she'd glue it down. Though, knowing her, she might shake it often, just for the reaction: just to watch the snow fall down. She likes chaos. Or, this is possibly more accurate: she likes to pretend there's chaos. She likes the brief fall of snow, and the instant peace and true calm that comes as it settles. Yes, she likes to shake the globe, she likes to make it snow; but she'd never drop it. Never.

But, she doesn't work her own snow globe. Its shelf isn't in her room. It's called her globe, but it's not hers to shake.

And, it's not hers to drop.

She stood there for a moment, watching them turn the globe on its back, watching the snow start to fall. The plastic snow didn't make her smile. The stormy chaos didn't bring thrill. They've done this before, many a time before, and though she'd shake the globe herself, the vision of them doing so is nauseating, not invigorating.

She watched them plunge her perfect world into snow.

And, in an unspoken agreement, they slowly relaxed their fingers.

It fell slowly to the ground, a moment where things truly stop and go in slow-motion. A moment where, if you were conscious enough, you could reach out and stop it from happening. But, you never realize you could have caught it until it's already hit, and time is regular once more.

She watched it fall.

She watched perfection break, perfection shatter, perfection flow in a microscopic river.

She saw her globe in pieces, her happiness broken on the floor.

And nothing is ever as captivating when mended with tape.

Writing Contest Second Place: Freeze - Carson Hawkes

Aaron Cavanaugh

Carson Hawkes

U know when you were a kid and you played freeze tag?
That's how my life always feels.
Problem is, I'm frozen and no one bothers to unfreeze me.
I just stand here watching the world speed past,
everyone smiling,
playing the game without me.

Writing Contest Third Place: Days of Me - Rachel Broom

Ali Lloyd

Days of Me
Rachel Broom

When people say they miss me,
I think how much I miss me too,
Me, the old me, the perfect me,
Lover of no cares, living my dreams,
Happy me, the good me, kind
To elderly people who never get visitors, enthusiastic
Person and encourager,
Proud me, satisfied and confident
After performing magnificently
On the piano at my recital,
Swift me, after getting my best time when running the mile,
Leader of the group
Who knows the way, helping
The ones who have fallen behind,
Excited me, winner of first place in literature,
Cleaner and random job
Girl, only for the summer,
Organizer of many brothers’ closets,
Personal tutor, fresh new markers,
Smarty at writing similes and metaphors
That captures images, a writer,
Me on a boat in the summer,
Seeing how far I can lean over the edge.

That’s me in my room crying,
Trying to hide my emotions, a failure, and no one,
Becoming unnoticed, it’s a struggle to be invisible,
My mind struggles to be in the
Spotlight, always lurking in the shadows,
Poignant me, with no positive attitude,
Eager welcomer of praises,
Cleaning lady, babysitter, my mom’s
Cookbook editor, a lost soul,
Discourager at my door, dweller on
Bad memories, supporter of friends’
Troubles, Thinker of misery, Comforter
To the weak and unfortunate, Listener
To an unhappy heart, Maker of
A small idea,
Great contenter with what is
At my finger tips and never asking
For more than what can be afforded,
Hoper of future miracles,
World gawker, apprehender
Of the frameless door.