Devin Lujan
Art Cover Contest Grand Prize Winner
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Devin Lujan
Bountiful High School's 2010 Literary Magazine Blog
Welcome and happy reading!
THIS IS THE COLOR...
Bountiful High School's 2010 Literary Magazine
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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...
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.
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
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.
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.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Love - Justin M. Lawson
This Is Goodbye - Tadiana A. Richter
Dan Haycock
This is Goodbye
Tadiana A. Richter
You stood by my side for so long
But now I have to let you go
I see the tears forming in your eyes
You’re sad but please don’t let it show
I can’t stand to see you cry
But I gotta do what’s best for you
You know I'm not good with goodbyes
So lets make it fast. I'll miss you too
Maybe someday well meet again
But till then this is goodbye
I’ll remember you forever and always
Until the day I die
This is Goodbye
Tadiana A. Richter
You stood by my side for so long
But now I have to let you go
I see the tears forming in your eyes
You’re sad but please don’t let it show
I can’t stand to see you cry
But I gotta do what’s best for you
You know I'm not good with goodbyes
So lets make it fast. I'll miss you too
Maybe someday well meet again
But till then this is goodbye
I’ll remember you forever and always
Until the day I die
Never Enough - Paul Atwood
Alayna Eiting
Never Enough
Paul Atwood
No matter how hard you try they always keep you down,
It’s like you’re a nail getting pounded into the ground.
You could try and change, but it doesn’t work,
They all just stare at you with a little smirk.
You’ll never be accepted no matter how hard you try,
I’m sure none of them would even notice if you were to die.
You ask yourself if it would be worth it,
Considering that they all treat you like crap.
Just step back and think for a few,
Do you really want all of them to be like you?
Break off and be yourself, in the end that’s all you have.
Never Enough
Paul Atwood
No matter how hard you try they always keep you down,
It’s like you’re a nail getting pounded into the ground.
You could try and change, but it doesn’t work,
They all just stare at you with a little smirk.
You’ll never be accepted no matter how hard you try,
I’m sure none of them would even notice if you were to die.
You ask yourself if it would be worth it,
Considering that they all treat you like crap.
Just step back and think for a few,
Do you really want all of them to be like you?
Break off and be yourself, in the end that’s all you have.
True Love - Tyler Vowels
Devin Lujan
True Love
Tyler Vowels
I creep, I crouch, I peek inside
I see her resting: fast asleep.
I hardly think that I’m a creep
For wishing her to be my bride
Perhaps in dreams, she sees us glide
From sea to sea; that water deep.
Perhaps from me that hope will seep
Into her heart she’ll take in stride
She wakes and turns, her eyes catch mine
I turn and run, but far too late
I’ll never ever get that date
Restraining order is far from fine.
So for one year I sit and wait
To meet the girl who I call Fate.
True Love
Tyler Vowels
I creep, I crouch, I peek inside
I see her resting: fast asleep.
I hardly think that I’m a creep
For wishing her to be my bride
Perhaps in dreams, she sees us glide
From sea to sea; that water deep.
Perhaps from me that hope will seep
Into her heart she’ll take in stride
She wakes and turns, her eyes catch mine
I turn and run, but far too late
I’ll never ever get that date
Restraining order is far from fine.
So for one year I sit and wait
To meet the girl who I call Fate.
Bad Drivers - Katelyn Bleak
Jordan Yazzie
Bad Drivers
Katelyn Bleak
Some people are just meant to be alone
When driving on the road, for the don’t know
That they’re not meant to drive, they should have flown
To where they want to be so long ago
For they should not be on the road at all.
Those drivers that are oh so far away
To meet the cross whew some cars seem to stall
Bad drivers keep going all the way
Some people are so rude to all those ‘round
They cut in front, and break so hard to stop
From going through the neighbors brand new hound
Or maybe breaking down the brand new shop
Bad drives should be banned from every state
Because of horrors others will await
Bad Drivers
Katelyn Bleak
Some people are just meant to be alone
When driving on the road, for the don’t know
That they’re not meant to drive, they should have flown
To where they want to be so long ago
For they should not be on the road at all.
Those drivers that are oh so far away
To meet the cross whew some cars seem to stall
Bad drivers keep going all the way
Some people are so rude to all those ‘round
They cut in front, and break so hard to stop
From going through the neighbors brand new hound
Or maybe breaking down the brand new shop
Bad drives should be banned from every state
Because of horrors others will await
Hallow's Eve - Katrina Hunt
Judgment - Paul Atwood
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
I Found a Piece of Silence - Rachel Wainwright
Zancy Pashley
I Found a Piece of Silence
Rachel Wainwright
I found a piece of silence
Glistening in the mumbled night,
And heedless of sharp edges
I blindly clung on tight.
I waited in the stillness
To think of things to say
I waited half a decade,
You waited half a day.
Before you starting chatting
With anyone around
While I stood on in silence
Just waiting for a sound.
No sounds could find my lips,
No sound could touch my tongue,
And soon the sound of silence
Began to have no sound.
I hadn’t moved an inch
But I managed still to fall
And drop that piece of silence
I’d been saving through it all.
And all the glittering things
I could have thought to say
All the things I could have said
To blow your breath away
Shone fleetingly in darkness
As it tumbled to the ground
Before it smashed away to dust
And shattered without sound.
So with cut hands
And an empty throat
We numbly walked away,
And one soft whisper slivered out
Between my lips of clay.
I Found a Piece of Silence
Rachel Wainwright
I found a piece of silence
Glistening in the mumbled night,
And heedless of sharp edges
I blindly clung on tight.
I waited in the stillness
To think of things to say
I waited half a decade,
You waited half a day.
Before you starting chatting
With anyone around
While I stood on in silence
Just waiting for a sound.
No sounds could find my lips,
No sound could touch my tongue,
And soon the sound of silence
Began to have no sound.
I hadn’t moved an inch
But I managed still to fall
And drop that piece of silence
I’d been saving through it all.
And all the glittering things
I could have thought to say
All the things I could have said
To blow your breath away
Shone fleetingly in darkness
As it tumbled to the ground
Before it smashed away to dust
And shattered without sound.
So with cut hands
And an empty throat
We numbly walked away,
And one soft whisper slivered out
Between my lips of clay.
My Gregarious Older Sister - Brianne Sandorf
Ode to Summer - Rachel Wainwright
Brooke Rowley
Ode to Summer
Rachel Wainwright
You welcomed me in like a friend
I had the whole summer;
You couldn’t end.
You smiled and lured in every way
The days were endless,
Weeks dripped and swayed
Time seemed to stop,
But then sped up.
My whole world crashed,
You set me up.
Summer, you lied
You cheated
You cut.
Your smiling mouth opened
And then snapped shut.
You shredded my mind
You ripped out my blood
You gave me the sun,
Then drenched me in flood.
You’re not the same
As you were then.
I hate you summer,
Please come again.
Ode to Summer
Rachel Wainwright
You welcomed me in like a friend
I had the whole summer;
You couldn’t end.
You smiled and lured in every way
The days were endless,
Weeks dripped and swayed
Time seemed to stop,
But then sped up.
My whole world crashed,
You set me up.
Summer, you lied
You cheated
You cut.
Your smiling mouth opened
And then snapped shut.
You shredded my mind
You ripped out my blood
You gave me the sun,
Then drenched me in flood.
You’re not the same
As you were then.
I hate you summer,
Please come again.
Clueless: Age 12 - Brianne Sandorf
Alone - Emily D. Regis
Taylor Smedley
Alone
Emily D. Regis
“You know what else children don’t know?” he asked, staring at me with an intensity that was unsettling. I shrugged and averted his gaze.
“They don’t know how to hurt. I mean, they know how to cause pain, but not how to hurt. There’s a difference.” He thumbed the whiskers on his chin, nodding softly as if I had uttered that statement and he was reflecting on my profound insight. I followed his lead and nodded, not knowing what else to do.
When I had seen his name on the Caller ID at 3 this morning, I had assumed he was drunk and needed a ride home from whatever bar he frequented nowadays. I answered, feigning surprise at hearing his voice after all these years. I knew he had been sober for the past year and a half, but it was no surprise to me that I would still be the one he called to pick him up after a long night of drinking. Or so I thought.
“You want to come over for a while?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Rachel just called. She had some huge news for me. I need someone to talk to. Please, Kate, you’re the only one I can talk to right now.” Hearing his voice so weak and broken and in need of care, I couldn’t refuse. After pulling on some sweats, yanking my hair into a ponytail, and throwing on some flip flops, I drove the ten minutes to his house. I still knew the way by heart.
I walked up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, knowing that the elevator would actually be slower. I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place by the fire extinguisher and walked in. The apartment was dark, but I walked straight to the den, where I knew he’d be, without colliding with any furniture. He was sitting in the large purple arm chair, like always, but instead of his laptop on the table in front of him, there was a novel instead. The Count of Monte Cristo. I was impressed.
Timidly, I knocked on the wall to announce my presence and he looked up and nodded at me. Gesturing for me to sit on the couch in front of him, he placed a bookmark in his novel and clapped it shut.
“Kate. It’s been too long.” From the way he spoke, you would never have thought we parted on less than good terms. Finally, dropping his mask, his eyes reached out to me in the way that only he could. “Katie-cat, I don’t know what to do. Rachel dropped by yesterday. She, well, she had some news to tell me. Kate, Rachel’s pregnant. I’m the father.”
For a second, I was sure I had heard him wrong. There was no way. But as I saw the honesty in his eyes, my hands began to tremble. I now knew why he had called me. I was his last resort. If he didn’t turn to me, we both knew he would turn to the scotch instead. Searching for my voice, I could think of no words. I stared at him helplessly.
“I don’t know what to do. What do I tell Rachel? That I don’t want to be a part of the kid’s life? That he’d be better off?” I knew he was only thinking aloud. That these questions were rhetorical. Thoughts began to race through my head. Images of him, drunk and angry. Loud. Harsh. Scary.
I wanted to calm him, to shake off his fears, but we both knew he would be a terrible father to this child. We both knew that Rachel would’ve been better off never telling him of their offspring.
“Kate,” he said, looking at me like he’d never seen me before, “Maybe there’s something I’m supposed to learn from the kid. Maybe, you know, I’ve been given a second chance.” This idea seemed to cheer him up and he began to list qualities he could learn from a child that would better his life.
“You know what else children don’t know?” he asked, staring at me with an intensity that was unsettling. I shrugged and averted his gaze.
“They don’t know how to hurt. I mean, they know how to cause pain, but not how to hurt. There’s a difference.” He thumbed the whiskers on his chin, nodding softly as if I had uttered that statement and he was reflecting on my profound insight. I followed his lead and nodded, not knowing what else to do.
“Katie-cat,” he said, reaching out to touch my on the arm. I instinctively recoiled, but he didn’t seem surprised, if a bit saddened. “I wish I could say I never meant to hurt you. But we both know that’s a lie. I did. I meant to hurt you. And I’m so sorry.” This time, ignoring my efforts to avoid his touch, he grabbed my wrist and turned it soft side up. Gently stroking the three small scars, I could see tears gather in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back. I wish I never hurt you. I wish I never made you hurt yourself.” Tears began to trail down his cheek and he didn’t both to wipe them off. “Katie-cat. Katie-cat.” He whispered over and over.
But I had heard it all before. I heard the I’m sorrys and I was sick of them. I stood up and turned around, and walked away. When I got to the door, I looked back to see his eyes, full of tears and understanding and no anger.
As I walked out, I whispered softly, “Goodbye Daddy.”
Alone
Emily D. Regis
“You know what else children don’t know?” he asked, staring at me with an intensity that was unsettling. I shrugged and averted his gaze.
“They don’t know how to hurt. I mean, they know how to cause pain, but not how to hurt. There’s a difference.” He thumbed the whiskers on his chin, nodding softly as if I had uttered that statement and he was reflecting on my profound insight. I followed his lead and nodded, not knowing what else to do.
When I had seen his name on the Caller ID at 3 this morning, I had assumed he was drunk and needed a ride home from whatever bar he frequented nowadays. I answered, feigning surprise at hearing his voice after all these years. I knew he had been sober for the past year and a half, but it was no surprise to me that I would still be the one he called to pick him up after a long night of drinking. Or so I thought.
“You want to come over for a while?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Rachel just called. She had some huge news for me. I need someone to talk to. Please, Kate, you’re the only one I can talk to right now.” Hearing his voice so weak and broken and in need of care, I couldn’t refuse. After pulling on some sweats, yanking my hair into a ponytail, and throwing on some flip flops, I drove the ten minutes to his house. I still knew the way by heart.
I walked up the three flights of stairs to his apartment, knowing that the elevator would actually be slower. I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place by the fire extinguisher and walked in. The apartment was dark, but I walked straight to the den, where I knew he’d be, without colliding with any furniture. He was sitting in the large purple arm chair, like always, but instead of his laptop on the table in front of him, there was a novel instead. The Count of Monte Cristo. I was impressed.
Timidly, I knocked on the wall to announce my presence and he looked up and nodded at me. Gesturing for me to sit on the couch in front of him, he placed a bookmark in his novel and clapped it shut.
“Kate. It’s been too long.” From the way he spoke, you would never have thought we parted on less than good terms. Finally, dropping his mask, his eyes reached out to me in the way that only he could. “Katie-cat, I don’t know what to do. Rachel dropped by yesterday. She, well, she had some news to tell me. Kate, Rachel’s pregnant. I’m the father.”
For a second, I was sure I had heard him wrong. There was no way. But as I saw the honesty in his eyes, my hands began to tremble. I now knew why he had called me. I was his last resort. If he didn’t turn to me, we both knew he would turn to the scotch instead. Searching for my voice, I could think of no words. I stared at him helplessly.
“I don’t know what to do. What do I tell Rachel? That I don’t want to be a part of the kid’s life? That he’d be better off?” I knew he was only thinking aloud. That these questions were rhetorical. Thoughts began to race through my head. Images of him, drunk and angry. Loud. Harsh. Scary.
I wanted to calm him, to shake off his fears, but we both knew he would be a terrible father to this child. We both knew that Rachel would’ve been better off never telling him of their offspring.
“Kate,” he said, looking at me like he’d never seen me before, “Maybe there’s something I’m supposed to learn from the kid. Maybe, you know, I’ve been given a second chance.” This idea seemed to cheer him up and he began to list qualities he could learn from a child that would better his life.
“You know what else children don’t know?” he asked, staring at me with an intensity that was unsettling. I shrugged and averted his gaze.
“They don’t know how to hurt. I mean, they know how to cause pain, but not how to hurt. There’s a difference.” He thumbed the whiskers on his chin, nodding softly as if I had uttered that statement and he was reflecting on my profound insight. I followed his lead and nodded, not knowing what else to do.
“Katie-cat,” he said, reaching out to touch my on the arm. I instinctively recoiled, but he didn’t seem surprised, if a bit saddened. “I wish I could say I never meant to hurt you. But we both know that’s a lie. I did. I meant to hurt you. And I’m so sorry.” This time, ignoring my efforts to avoid his touch, he grabbed my wrist and turned it soft side up. Gently stroking the three small scars, I could see tears gather in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back. I wish I never hurt you. I wish I never made you hurt yourself.” Tears began to trail down his cheek and he didn’t both to wipe them off. “Katie-cat. Katie-cat.” He whispered over and over.
But I had heard it all before. I heard the I’m sorrys and I was sick of them. I stood up and turned around, and walked away. When I got to the door, I looked back to see his eyes, full of tears and understanding and no anger.
As I walked out, I whispered softly, “Goodbye Daddy.”
Irony's Hope - Rachel Wainwright
Sydney Staples
Irony’s Hope
Rachel Wainwright
They call me Irony. Who knows why my parents named me that; because my father expected a boy? Because neither of my parents were expecting me at all? Or because being their only child, you might expect I was their favorite child, and yet I am not? Whatever the reason, whatever the cause; I am Irony, and I will always give you the opposite of what you wanted. I will go to piano lessons and quit the day before recital, I will show up for class pictures with a mud stain on my shirt, I will set the table, but leave the cups and everyone will have to stand in the meal, when they get thirsty, to get themselves a glass. I’m Irony, and as much as I hate, and savor the bitter bile in my mouth, even I cannot tell what I will get, and what I will do. Sometimes, even I have hope, and Irony’s hope is inevitably lost. But to be human is to house hope; that runs like a headless chicken, splattering everywhere no matter how hard you chop at it, and attempt to force it to die. Everyone expected me to get accepted and move away to the University. And until I didn’t, I hadn’t realized how much that hope had been with me. Not only because it would carry me away from my parents, and our waterless dinner table, but because I still hoped, even after all this time, that they could love me, and call me Truth.
Irony’s Hope
Rachel Wainwright
They call me Irony. Who knows why my parents named me that; because my father expected a boy? Because neither of my parents were expecting me at all? Or because being their only child, you might expect I was their favorite child, and yet I am not? Whatever the reason, whatever the cause; I am Irony, and I will always give you the opposite of what you wanted. I will go to piano lessons and quit the day before recital, I will show up for class pictures with a mud stain on my shirt, I will set the table, but leave the cups and everyone will have to stand in the meal, when they get thirsty, to get themselves a glass. I’m Irony, and as much as I hate, and savor the bitter bile in my mouth, even I cannot tell what I will get, and what I will do. Sometimes, even I have hope, and Irony’s hope is inevitably lost. But to be human is to house hope; that runs like a headless chicken, splattering everywhere no matter how hard you chop at it, and attempt to force it to die. Everyone expected me to get accepted and move away to the University. And until I didn’t, I hadn’t realized how much that hope had been with me. Not only because it would carry me away from my parents, and our waterless dinner table, but because I still hoped, even after all this time, that they could love me, and call me Truth.
Callowmen Part I: First Night - Derrick Fox
Jordan Yazzie
Callowmen Part I: First Night
Derrick Fox
"This is it kid, this is your shot at the big time. Don't screw it up. Be ready by 6:50." Shawn checked his watch: 6:20. Very short notice. Shawn shook the hand of his boss and left the office. His heart was pounding and his whole body was shaking. As he walked to the locker room, co-workers patted him on the back telling him good luck. Each time Shawn responded with a weak nervous smile. Halfway to the locker room, an older man stepped in front of Shawn, held out his hand and said, "Good luck Shawn, I'll be watching you closely." Shawn gave another nervous smile, shook his hand, and said his thanks. A veteran, his hero Silus Archer no less, would be watching him. Had he shown that much promise?
He made it to the locker room and took a quick shower. As soon as he stepped out he looked at his watch one more time: 6:40. He dried off, pulled on his plain black trunks, followed by his knee pads, and then laced up his boots. He picked up his ring and whispered, "This is for you." Shawn kissed the ring before putting it into his bag and leaving the locker room. He quickly found the man that he would be working with by the curtain where they would enter. "You ready?" Tyson said when he noticed Shawn. He spoke with such ease, but he was a veteran. Tyson laughed when he saw how nervous Shawn was, "Don't worry you will do fine. We go out at 7:15, so let's talk about this." The both of them sat down and talked about what exactly they would be doing that night. Finally music familiar to only Shawn played loudly throughout the halls and the arena, "I guess that's you, kid. Let's do this." Shawn stood up and took in a deep breath. He slowly let it go before stepping through the curtain letting the lights and sounds of the arena engulf him.
Callowmen Part I: First Night
Derrick Fox
"This is it kid, this is your shot at the big time. Don't screw it up. Be ready by 6:50." Shawn checked his watch: 6:20. Very short notice. Shawn shook the hand of his boss and left the office. His heart was pounding and his whole body was shaking. As he walked to the locker room, co-workers patted him on the back telling him good luck. Each time Shawn responded with a weak nervous smile. Halfway to the locker room, an older man stepped in front of Shawn, held out his hand and said, "Good luck Shawn, I'll be watching you closely." Shawn gave another nervous smile, shook his hand, and said his thanks. A veteran, his hero Silus Archer no less, would be watching him. Had he shown that much promise?
He made it to the locker room and took a quick shower. As soon as he stepped out he looked at his watch one more time: 6:40. He dried off, pulled on his plain black trunks, followed by his knee pads, and then laced up his boots. He picked up his ring and whispered, "This is for you." Shawn kissed the ring before putting it into his bag and leaving the locker room. He quickly found the man that he would be working with by the curtain where they would enter. "You ready?" Tyson said when he noticed Shawn. He spoke with such ease, but he was a veteran. Tyson laughed when he saw how nervous Shawn was, "Don't worry you will do fine. We go out at 7:15, so let's talk about this." The both of them sat down and talked about what exactly they would be doing that night. Finally music familiar to only Shawn played loudly throughout the halls and the arena, "I guess that's you, kid. Let's do this." Shawn stood up and took in a deep breath. He slowly let it go before stepping through the curtain letting the lights and sounds of the arena engulf him.
Forgive Me - Katie Sexton
Yours Truly - Emily D. Regis
Ashley Hanks
Yours Truly
Emily D. Regis
Things got hard
but I'm willing to handle that.
I want you to
hold my hand
and touch my hair.
I want you to
tickle me and
hug me and
be mine.
I've never been one
to be persistent
but with you
I must
insist.
I'm giving it up.
I’m giving up giving up.
I need you to
understand
that I am
willing and ready to
fight for you
with all
that I
can muster.
Why?
Because a little while ago
I started to
believe
in fate.
Yours Truly
Emily D. Regis
Things got hard
but I'm willing to handle that.
I want you to
hold my hand
and touch my hair.
I want you to
tickle me and
hug me and
be mine.
I've never been one
to be persistent
but with you
I must
insist.
I'm giving it up.
I’m giving up giving up.
I need you to
understand
that I am
willing and ready to
fight for you
with all
that I
can muster.
Why?
Because a little while ago
I started to
believe
in fate.
Cinquains - Katelyn King
No Thank You - Tara Alvey
Clint Irwin
No Thank You
Tara Alvey
You
Are
A star,
They said
You can be whatever you want.
But then they quoted that stupid and supposedly inspirational quote
You know how it goes that one overly quoted quote
“Shoot for the moon and you’ll land
Among the stars!” What a dumb
Thing to say No, I think
I’ll land Where I
Choose Thanks
No Thank You
Tara Alvey
You
Are
A star,
They said
You can be whatever you want.
But then they quoted that stupid and supposedly inspirational quote
You know how it goes that one overly quoted quote
“Shoot for the moon and you’ll land
Among the stars!” What a dumb
Thing to say No, I think
I’ll land Where I
Choose Thanks
The Aftermath - Derrick Fox
Brandon Henderson
The Aftermath
Derrick Fox
Joseph woke up to searing pain in his head. The light of the sun beaming through the window didn't help at all either. Slowly, holding his head with his hand, he sat up on the couch. He sat normally, resting his head in his hands, trying to wake himself up. He put his hands down on either side of him so he can lift himself up, but he had placed his left hand into a wet spot on the couch. Quickly he removed it and stood up, what had he just touched? Joseph stumbled around and slowly made his way to the window, but the closer he got, the more the sun got directly in his eyes and the more it hurt. As fast as he could he closed the blinds and finally opened his eyes to the point where he could actually see. "What the hell happened?" His eyes adjusted to the new lighting of the room, and he didn't like what he saw. Plastic cups were scattered all around on the floor, shelves, and the coffee table. Every where you looked there was half eaten food, some of it even left a trail where they slid down the wall. The lamp that his sister had given him as a house warming gift was destroyed into hundreds of pieces of a corner, and on the otherside of the room there was a black scorch mark. And that was just the living room, who knew what the other rooms looked like? Joseph let out a very frustrated sigh, "The price of having party."
At this point he couldn't even remember why they threw the party, but it didn't really matter. Right now he had to worry about getting his house looking presentable again. At that moment he heard clattering and stumbling as someone was trying to get up the stairs. He grimaced as the noise sent a throbbing pain through his head. Two people emerged from the basement, one a guy and the other a girl. The girl wasn't wearing any pants and her hair was a mess, the guy, whose hair was also a mess, wasn't wearing a shirt. "Hey man, thanks for the invite to that wicked party last night! That homemade flamethrower was just awesome!" The girl just nodded in agreement and then added, "and if you find my pants, would you mind bringing them over to my place? Thanks." She just smiled and signaled for the guy to follow her so they could leave. Joseph just shook his head, a homemade flamethrower? He let out yet another frustrated sigh and got to work on cleaning, after taking some aspirin and getting a cup of coffee.
The Aftermath
Derrick Fox
Joseph woke up to searing pain in his head. The light of the sun beaming through the window didn't help at all either. Slowly, holding his head with his hand, he sat up on the couch. He sat normally, resting his head in his hands, trying to wake himself up. He put his hands down on either side of him so he can lift himself up, but he had placed his left hand into a wet spot on the couch. Quickly he removed it and stood up, what had he just touched? Joseph stumbled around and slowly made his way to the window, but the closer he got, the more the sun got directly in his eyes and the more it hurt. As fast as he could he closed the blinds and finally opened his eyes to the point where he could actually see. "What the hell happened?" His eyes adjusted to the new lighting of the room, and he didn't like what he saw. Plastic cups were scattered all around on the floor, shelves, and the coffee table. Every where you looked there was half eaten food, some of it even left a trail where they slid down the wall. The lamp that his sister had given him as a house warming gift was destroyed into hundreds of pieces of a corner, and on the otherside of the room there was a black scorch mark. And that was just the living room, who knew what the other rooms looked like? Joseph let out a very frustrated sigh, "The price of having party."
At this point he couldn't even remember why they threw the party, but it didn't really matter. Right now he had to worry about getting his house looking presentable again. At that moment he heard clattering and stumbling as someone was trying to get up the stairs. He grimaced as the noise sent a throbbing pain through his head. Two people emerged from the basement, one a guy and the other a girl. The girl wasn't wearing any pants and her hair was a mess, the guy, whose hair was also a mess, wasn't wearing a shirt. "Hey man, thanks for the invite to that wicked party last night! That homemade flamethrower was just awesome!" The girl just nodded in agreement and then added, "and if you find my pants, would you mind bringing them over to my place? Thanks." She just smiled and signaled for the guy to follow her so they could leave. Joseph just shook his head, a homemade flamethrower? He let out yet another frustrated sigh and got to work on cleaning, after taking some aspirin and getting a cup of coffee.
Man from L. A. - Aticus Peterson
Heartache - Josh Brimhall
Mary Leloudis
Heartache
Josh Brimhall
Have you ever had a pain inside of you? Something there you’re not sure why it is there, nor how exactly it got there, although you have some idea. A sharp agony, not on the outside, but deep in the caverns on your soul, then expanding outward through the rest of the body, particularly coming from your chest, maybe your heart. Your body loses its strength and a deep cold feeling fills your insides, making the only thing to do is lay on your bed or couch, feeling like you could cry. It comes and goes a little bit, then abruptly leaves, but only for a while until it suddenly appears again as quickly as it left, sometimes piercing even harder. No matter how many psychological defenses you use to take away the repetitive hammering that this misery has caused you to inflict upon yourself, there seems to be no cure. I think this is something that comes from that thing called true love. Not the fake stuff, or else there would be no way it couldn’t hurt that badly. Many have sung about it-that painful feeling- too many talk about it falsely, others have made up metaphors or quotes trying to explain it, but the true feeling cannot be written in words or explained fully; the only way to know what it really is, is by experiencing it yourself.
Heartache
Josh Brimhall
Have you ever had a pain inside of you? Something there you’re not sure why it is there, nor how exactly it got there, although you have some idea. A sharp agony, not on the outside, but deep in the caverns on your soul, then expanding outward through the rest of the body, particularly coming from your chest, maybe your heart. Your body loses its strength and a deep cold feeling fills your insides, making the only thing to do is lay on your bed or couch, feeling like you could cry. It comes and goes a little bit, then abruptly leaves, but only for a while until it suddenly appears again as quickly as it left, sometimes piercing even harder. No matter how many psychological defenses you use to take away the repetitive hammering that this misery has caused you to inflict upon yourself, there seems to be no cure. I think this is something that comes from that thing called true love. Not the fake stuff, or else there would be no way it couldn’t hurt that badly. Many have sung about it-that painful feeling- too many talk about it falsely, others have made up metaphors or quotes trying to explain it, but the true feeling cannot be written in words or explained fully; the only way to know what it really is, is by experiencing it yourself.
Puppy Love - Brooke Rowley
Victorious - Derick Fox
William Beadle
Victorious
Derick Fox
A talented musician
Blondes that have red hair
Crazy girls who want to hurt me
Dudes that walk around with puppets
Even the teachers are a little crazy
First day here I made a girl angry
Geez, I just spilt coffee on her boyfriend
Hollywood Arts is a crazy school
I never would’ve dreamed I’d be here
Just because my sister couldn’t perform
Kind of glad she couldn’t I wouldn’t be here if she could
Lesson learned:
Make it Shine
Never just go into it not trying your best
Over the top is what you have to aim for
Passion takes you were you want to be
Quitting is for those who can’t
Reaching goals is for those who can
Stay with it and you will achieve
Take it from me
Unextraordinary me
Victory is what I am for
What I strive to achieve
X-ing out the negative
Yearning to be the best I can be
Zero people will stand in my way
Victorious
Derick Fox
A talented musician
Blondes that have red hair
Crazy girls who want to hurt me
Dudes that walk around with puppets
Even the teachers are a little crazy
First day here I made a girl angry
Geez, I just spilt coffee on her boyfriend
Hollywood Arts is a crazy school
I never would’ve dreamed I’d be here
Just because my sister couldn’t perform
Kind of glad she couldn’t I wouldn’t be here if she could
Lesson learned:
Make it Shine
Never just go into it not trying your best
Over the top is what you have to aim for
Passion takes you were you want to be
Quitting is for those who can’t
Reaching goals is for those who can
Stay with it and you will achieve
Take it from me
Unextraordinary me
Victory is what I am for
What I strive to achieve
X-ing out the negative
Yearning to be the best I can be
Zero people will stand in my way
Lamp Boy - Taeler Short
Adventures of Gratt and Cheeto - Emily Hawkins
Rachel Rogers
Adventures of Gratt and Cheeto
Emily Hawkins
Gratt (Matt and Griff) is a flavor blasted gold-fish, he lives in a bag. One day Gratt was sitting, pondering his life, looking around for inspiration as he wrote up his poem for class, when out of nowhere a very imposing, annoying gold fish, Cheeto, came up to him smiling crazily. Gratt tried to ignore her, but as she persisted on talking to him, he had nothing better to do then turn to her and try to get her to leave. "Hi" said Cheeto with a smirk on her face that would have scared away any other person, but at the moment Gratt was just trying to understand why this fish was bothering Him, of all people. "Um, hi?" he said trying to sound cold, "what do you want?" "Will you be my friend?" said cheeto with a crazy look on her face as she sat down on the chair beside him and waited for his reply. Trying, at all costs to get her to leave him alone he answered, "sure, but i have to get this done so could we maybe be friends later? somwhere else?" Without hesitation Chetto replied, "sure" and raced away. In amazement and sudden releif Gratt turned back to his notes, picked up his pencil, and resumed the poem.
Adventures of Gratt and Cheeto
Emily Hawkins
Gratt (Matt and Griff) is a flavor blasted gold-fish, he lives in a bag. One day Gratt was sitting, pondering his life, looking around for inspiration as he wrote up his poem for class, when out of nowhere a very imposing, annoying gold fish, Cheeto, came up to him smiling crazily. Gratt tried to ignore her, but as she persisted on talking to him, he had nothing better to do then turn to her and try to get her to leave. "Hi" said Cheeto with a smirk on her face that would have scared away any other person, but at the moment Gratt was just trying to understand why this fish was bothering Him, of all people. "Um, hi?" he said trying to sound cold, "what do you want?" "Will you be my friend?" said cheeto with a crazy look on her face as she sat down on the chair beside him and waited for his reply. Trying, at all costs to get her to leave him alone he answered, "sure, but i have to get this done so could we maybe be friends later? somwhere else?" Without hesitation Chetto replied, "sure" and raced away. In amazement and sudden releif Gratt turned back to his notes, picked up his pencil, and resumed the poem.
Black and White - TJ Hendricks
Elsee Hermansen
black and white
TJ Hendricks
my soul is dyed black, forever scared black as if burnt by fire. i have no idea how i found something so pure, so innocent, so free, so blameless. i don't deserve this. that fact that your still around means you see through the black or i've just learned to hide it so well its not noticable. i feel like the black wolf around the white one. i should go back to my cave and hide.... die alone, but i'm so hooked i'm won't.
black and white
TJ Hendricks
my soul is dyed black, forever scared black as if burnt by fire. i have no idea how i found something so pure, so innocent, so free, so blameless. i don't deserve this. that fact that your still around means you see through the black or i've just learned to hide it so well its not noticable. i feel like the black wolf around the white one. i should go back to my cave and hide.... die alone, but i'm so hooked i'm won't.
Close Your Eyes - Matt Hatch
Angie Hansen
Close Your Eyes
Matt Hatch
There are no flowery fields of flagrance and bliss
Just a giant pile of rot and filth
and we're all covered in it.
we call those "flower moments" the one where we stand up from the filth,
close our eyes,
and forget
just for that time, that we're standing in mess.
It won't last long.
It can't.
You can't fully fool you senses
Even the happiest man who's every thought is pure
knows in the back of his mind that something is wrong.
So lie back down in the muck
squirm and cry and whine for help
These filthy creatures you call friends won't,
Nay! can't help you!
With thier inability to focus on more then their own filth
encrusted lives for the few seconds you need from them.
If thou wilt be a begger
beg for death.
For all else is but a cruel joke.
Close Your Eyes
Matt Hatch
There are no flowery fields of flagrance and bliss
Just a giant pile of rot and filth
and we're all covered in it.
we call those "flower moments" the one where we stand up from the filth,
close our eyes,
and forget
just for that time, that we're standing in mess.
It won't last long.
It can't.
You can't fully fool you senses
Even the happiest man who's every thought is pure
knows in the back of his mind that something is wrong.
So lie back down in the muck
squirm and cry and whine for help
These filthy creatures you call friends won't,
Nay! can't help you!
With thier inability to focus on more then their own filth
encrusted lives for the few seconds you need from them.
If thou wilt be a begger
beg for death.
For all else is but a cruel joke.
Epitaph - Jacob Cardinal
The Bald Eagle - Caitlin Hibbert
Zandy Pashley
The Bald Eagle
Caitlin Hibbert
The bald eagle soars through the crisp air,
Ever increasing his ascent towards the clouds;
His majestic climb inspires the fisherman
Dreaming, gazing, into the sky.
This American icon has proved a strong
Survivor, sitting atop the food chain
He waits for his prey and attacks:
Diving through the air snatching a fish
With his knife talons and keratin beak.
Satisfied, at last, he glides across
The cloudless sky, into the sunset.
The Bald Eagle
Caitlin Hibbert
The bald eagle soars through the crisp air,
Ever increasing his ascent towards the clouds;
His majestic climb inspires the fisherman
Dreaming, gazing, into the sky.
This American icon has proved a strong
Survivor, sitting atop the food chain
He waits for his prey and attacks:
Diving through the air snatching a fish
With his knife talons and keratin beak.
Satisfied, at last, he glides across
The cloudless sky, into the sunset.
The Hunter - Ryan Larsen
Monday, May 17, 2010
Love Is Like - Michelle Dodd
A New World - Devin Franke
The Tree - Kate Kuykendall
Over- easy - Jason Andre
Tony Hsieh
Over-easy
Jason Andre
You take hold of my mind
and crack it open
destroying the fragile shell of my limitations,
and exposing me to the world.
In an instant I splatter;
spilling where I cannot be gathered
and clinging in clumps to everything nearby
Yet the very center of me—
quivering,
tenuous,
apprehensive,
remains miraculously intact.
Over-easy
Jason Andre
You take hold of my mind
and crack it open
destroying the fragile shell of my limitations,
and exposing me to the world.
In an instant I splatter;
spilling where I cannot be gathered
and clinging in clumps to everything nearby
Yet the very center of me—
quivering,
tenuous,
apprehensive,
remains miraculously intact.
Worth the Wait - Breanna Tucker
Rachel Rogers
Worth the Wait
Breanna Tucker
A spike of cold, a nest of pain
A million thoughts run through my brain
The feelings that I have feel wrong
But when I look they’re still not gone
I try and try but nothing works
They stay, they grow! That’s even worse
I need to let them go right now
My heart still clings to him somehow
He’s broken it, and not just once
And yet my heart, it’s such a dunce,
It loves him more and swells with joy
And when he smiles it sees no ploy
It thumps and stutters, how can I
Deny it, it’s my soul! It cries
I need him with me, night and day
And maybe just along the way
I’ll be with him and can’t deny
There is none happier than I
Worth the Wait
Breanna Tucker
A spike of cold, a nest of pain
A million thoughts run through my brain
The feelings that I have feel wrong
But when I look they’re still not gone
I try and try but nothing works
They stay, they grow! That’s even worse
I need to let them go right now
My heart still clings to him somehow
He’s broken it, and not just once
And yet my heart, it’s such a dunce,
It loves him more and swells with joy
And when he smiles it sees no ploy
It thumps and stutters, how can I
Deny it, it’s my soul! It cries
I need him with me, night and day
And maybe just along the way
I’ll be with him and can’t deny
There is none happier than I
Haiku - Katelyn Bleak
The Moth - Sariah Horowitz
Rachel Griffin
The Moth
Sariah Horowitz
A moth doesn't seem to glow,
Color is rather hard to show,
The wings that do drape,
Create a wary cape.
Under the safety of winged cloak,
Will not chirp, prod, or poke,
The moth is scared to open her wings,
For they are not the prettiest things.
But if only she knew, if only she¿d try,
She¿d find that she is a Butterfly.
The Moth
Sariah Horowitz
A moth doesn't seem to glow,
Color is rather hard to show,
The wings that do drape,
Create a wary cape.
Under the safety of winged cloak,
Will not chirp, prod, or poke,
The moth is scared to open her wings,
For they are not the prettiest things.
But if only she knew, if only she¿d try,
She¿d find that she is a Butterfly.
The Beach - Keller Seamons
Melody Waxed Sad - Ben Harrison
Taylor Millward
Melody Waxed Sad
Ben Harrison
As time passed by the melody waxed sad,
The harmony grew tired, and deathly thin.
My song had changed from happy jig to ballad,
And I myself became too old, too grim.
From whence came hence this minor key? I knew
That 'Mas not my mistake, who could I blame?
The only one who brought these tears was you,
And on your shoulders rests the weight of shame.
So here it is, the song I wrote for you,
Do with it what you will, I've played it through.
Melody Waxed Sad
Ben Harrison
As time passed by the melody waxed sad,
The harmony grew tired, and deathly thin.
My song had changed from happy jig to ballad,
And I myself became too old, too grim.
From whence came hence this minor key? I knew
That 'Mas not my mistake, who could I blame?
The only one who brought these tears was you,
And on your shoulders rests the weight of shame.
So here it is, the song I wrote for you,
Do with it what you will, I've played it through.
Elizabethan Sonnet - Rylie Sandorf
Stephen Spencer
Elizabethan Sonnet
Rylie Sandorf
Walking slowly down the lane,
I met a man who asked my name,
In response I answered “Jayne.”
And said he, “have you fame?”
Caught off guard I answered “No,
I prefer the smaller town.
To a life of glitz I will not go,
Fame and fortune drag you down.
What I hold dear I will not sell
For a life of lust and hurt.
On this matter I won’t dwell.”
Was my reply short and curt.
“You are wise beyond your years,
This life has only brought me tears.”
Elizabethan Sonnet
Rylie Sandorf
Walking slowly down the lane,
I met a man who asked my name,
In response I answered “Jayne.”
And said he, “have you fame?”
Caught off guard I answered “No,
I prefer the smaller town.
To a life of glitz I will not go,
Fame and fortune drag you down.
What I hold dear I will not sell
For a life of lust and hurt.
On this matter I won’t dwell.”
Was my reply short and curt.
“You are wise beyond your years,
This life has only brought me tears.”
You Can Do It - Kohle Perkes
Fallen Soldier - Elizabeth Merrill
Poem for the Eye - Rylie Sandorf
Sydney Staples
Poem for the Eye
Rylie Sandorf
I
Am a
Fan of the
Star. As seen from
Afar, they may appear
Small, but if viewed up close, they are quite tall.
Wished upon in the night sky, look! A shooting star just
Flew by. Movie stars are said to be stars. If they
Are so great, and stars are so far, why oh
Why is that what we aspire to be?
Always on the search
And never reaching our
Goals, is a star really
Something we should
Want to be like?
Who knows.
Poem for the Eye
Rylie Sandorf
I
Am a
Fan of the
Star. As seen from
Afar, they may appear
Small, but if viewed up close, they are quite tall.
Wished upon in the night sky, look! A shooting star just
Flew by. Movie stars are said to be stars. If they
Are so great, and stars are so far, why oh
Why is that what we aspire to be?
Always on the search
And never reaching our
Goals, is a star really
Something we should
Want to be like?
Who knows.
Bleeding Hearts - Tara Alvey
Megan Squire
Bleeding Hearts
Tara Alvey
They used to hold such charm for me
The most delicate and precious in all the garden wide
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Yes I used to play a princess and be
The one to break and never hide
They used to hold such charm for me.
Away up high and in the tree
In my leafy castle I would rule and ride
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Then suddenly, it was no longer pretend to me
And in no one could I confide
They used to hole such charm for me.
But then he broke my heart, the he
And to the childish fancies I could no longer abide;
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Yes not the flowers speak of something else to me
A world that is cruel and now, no so wide
The bleeding hearts, you see
They used to hold such charm for me.
Bleeding Hearts
Tara Alvey
They used to hold such charm for me
The most delicate and precious in all the garden wide
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Yes I used to play a princess and be
The one to break and never hide
They used to hold such charm for me.
Away up high and in the tree
In my leafy castle I would rule and ride
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Then suddenly, it was no longer pretend to me
And in no one could I confide
They used to hole such charm for me.
But then he broke my heart, the he
And to the childish fancies I could no longer abide;
The bleeding hearts, you see.
Yes not the flowers speak of something else to me
A world that is cruel and now, no so wide
The bleeding hearts, you see
They used to hold such charm for me.
Faces of Life - Sharlene Meono
Stephen Spencer
Faces of Life
Sharlene Meono
Wherever you go and whatever you see,
There are faces always staring at you.
On posters, billboards and even on TV,
At the ocean, the park, or maybe the zoo?
Some are more human with a nose and some eyes,
Others are like monsters or something else we despise.
Most are unanimated in which few can tell,
Made up of windows, walls, or a doorbell.
Faces can even be seen in clouds way up high,
In the back of a truck, on the front of a train.
Found in the stars that shine in an evening sky,
From the drops of dew that form on a windowpane.
It matters not where these faces arise,
The message they bring is where true meaning lies.
So be careful of the things that you do,
Because somebody is always watching you.
Faces of Life
Sharlene Meono
Wherever you go and whatever you see,
There are faces always staring at you.
On posters, billboards and even on TV,
At the ocean, the park, or maybe the zoo?
Some are more human with a nose and some eyes,
Others are like monsters or something else we despise.
Most are unanimated in which few can tell,
Made up of windows, walls, or a doorbell.
Faces can even be seen in clouds way up high,
In the back of a truck, on the front of a train.
Found in the stars that shine in an evening sky,
From the drops of dew that form on a windowpane.
It matters not where these faces arise,
The message they bring is where true meaning lies.
So be careful of the things that you do,
Because somebody is always watching you.
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