Welcome to the Scribbler, previously Spork, the Hudson High School Art and Literary Magazine has moved to a new blog, and a new look. You can still e-mail Carol Hobbs any submissions that you may have at chobbs@hudson.k12.ma.us, or you can hand deliver than to her room F105, you can even place them in her mail box in the main office. You can also e-mail our editorial staff with any questions or submissions you may have at sporkhhs@gmail.com or email our editor in chief at jmclean776@gmail.com, there will also still be the submission box in the Hudson High School Library at the main desk.
We will also be placing all submissions on this website. If you go to the Spork blog you will just see a post directing you to come here (there is a link provided!) also you may have noticed that all submissions that were published on Spork have been transferred over to the Scribbler's blog.
Scribbler will be slowly going as a publication such as a monthly book review written by an editorial member once a month (this should be seen as early as January.)
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Falling Somewhere
By Sarah Ellis
I know I’m falling
somewhere
But
where?
Maybe down a rabbit hole?
…
Or have I
really been standing on solid ground?
No, I’m going somewhere
Am I spiraling out of
control?
Who knows?
But I’ll be there someday
I don’t know where
yet.
But
I will when I get there.
Then I’ll be home.
Bimini Sunset
By Susan Bryant
The trees sway with bliss
The ocean crashes, so clear
Paradise this is
Waking up to this
Sky of rainbow colors rise
Red and orange burst
The sound puts you to sleep
Awakes you for another
Day in vacation life
Poetry by Rebecca Beaudoin
Flooded
Hard as a rock
Tough as steel
Wielder of once a powerful cold stare
Even into the eye of a storm
It could stop enemies in their tracks
That used to be you
Now, that stare floods with tears
Security
Diversity is a good thing
You have the power to rule your life
There will be people who stand in your way
But do not wait
Life is worth living
Never forfeit
Frienemies
We used to be friends
Now we are enemies
We were allies
Fighting for the same cause
Now you’ve turned a cold shoulder
In response a great wall was built to only divide
High School
You are free to be yourself
Bullets fly left and right
One army untrained
The other, skilled assassins
The traitor comes out on top
Bullets fly left and right
Enemies were gained
Allies lost
A cold silence stands between them
Bullets fly left and right
Veterans bear battle scars both permanent and invisible
Once peers are now enemies
The war ends when the caps are in the air
Graduation
Fate
“Fate is a wild mare
You must grasp onto its saddle for your life
Trust it every step of the way
Its ways are mysterious
Like its misty gray tone
It cannot be tamed
And it lures you with its grace
Whether you decide to enjoy the ride or not
You must always trust its decisions
For better or worse,”
Said my father, leaving me alone to my solitude.
A Rose
Its once sturdy stem wilts in agony
It once braced the relationship they shared
Its brightly-colored petals wither and crumble
They alight to the blood-stained ground
Where battles were fought with tears
This flower once symbolized love
Now destruction has taken its toll
Nothing Compares
My mother’s love is thin
As thin as the silk of her cloak
Her so-called love cages me in
Keeps me from my potential
I wish to please her
But I can never be the daughter of her dreams
His love is gold
Rare and pure
But mother thinks not so
Only because of the rags he wears
Here I will never be free
With him I’ll be disowned
To leave or not to leave
That is the question
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Within Jack Han
Mary Campbell
I want to create
Something no one understands
That holds a meaning
That anyone can structure
By their personal opinion
They will search for hours
For what's lying within
And when they conclude
What they think it really means
They won't be settled for now
It will make people
Look and it will engross them
With the colors and
The techniques I have mastered
They will look for what's within
The Beauty of Night
Kelly Young
The town right below,
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
The cool wind travels,
like waves crashing to the shore
continuously.
The starts hovering,
like angels over the town,
brightening the night.
Alone to the right,
stands the moon watching over
the sleeping children.
The church stands tall,
its point facing the black sky;
at the town's center.
The trees act as guards,
protecting the citizens
from evils of night.
All is safe and sound,
no reasons to fear the dark.
Everything is calm.
The town right below,
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
Abstract painting
Tatyana Dobay
My emotions are running wild
Each color resembling a feeling
I pick up the paintbrush like a wild child
When will come the healing
This calamity stabs like a knife
It's bringing out a part of me I never knew I had
Nothing feels right
Maybe this will help a tad
Blue as my sadness
Green as my doubt
Red and orange as my anger and madness
Black and white as I shout
As all the colors mix, they resemble the mixed emotions I am thinking
I can think straight, my mind feels as if its shriking
Amazing Art in the City
Tatyana Dobay
Beep Beep the taxi's talk
Whoosh whoosh the wind blows
Click click the people walk
Squeak the subway goes
The city so loud
Brightness fills your eyes
Anywhere you decide to go you push through a crowd
Looking at the building your head will rise
Cars and taxis with no time to wait
Always rushing to get to where they need to go, not seeming so witty
So make sure you leave 5 minutes early for your date
'Cause there's no time to wait in the big city
Sky Above Clouds
Hannah Carroll
Feeling invincible floating in total solitude,
Detached for the city streets, alone.
Gliding over treetops, skyscrapers and clouds.
White, fluffy haze goes on further than the horizon,
While the sky stretches in shades of indigo
Into the plush, pastel sunset.
I sail into the sunset,
Whose beauty can provide solitude.
The brightness that comes before night's dark indigo
Is a sight that stands alone.
As day melts into the horizon,
I watch as the wind moves the clouds.
The Fairest of Them All
Caitlin McGowan
The fairest of them all should be me.
After all,
I am her step mother
The sparkle in her eyes show her love for him
This look is despicable
Prince "Charming"
What's that supposed to mean?
He is not so charming to me.
Seeing Snow's happiness kills me inside.
That girl should have been dead years ago
If it weren't for those dumb dwarfs who save her
I would have been considered
The fairest of them all
Real Eyes Realize Real Lies
Ja'kima Price
As I take a deep breath
I step back and couldn't be death
because of this bright color beam
The battle between real and pretend
I'm right between them
They often seem to blend
This causes so much mayhem
I try to see the good in the world
All the bright possibilities
All the colors seem so swirled
All of its glorious beauties
I know what I see isn't real
But I try to keep the lies away
But it's something about the way I feel
That feels so cliche
This world that I see
Is nothing but a fake
So just let me be
While I deal with this ache
Monday, May 21, 2012
Biggie Sloths
Humans Humans Humans can’t you see
Sometimes your carrots make me hungry
And I just love your edible ways
Guess that’s why you have five toes and I have three
Sloth Sloth Sloth can’t you see
Sometimes I get that you are hungry
And I just love your slow ways
Guess that’s why I have five toes and you have three.
by Kevin Libby
Sometimes your carrots make me hungry
And I just love your edible ways
Guess that’s why you have five toes and I have three
Sloth Sloth Sloth can’t you see
Sometimes I get that you are hungry
And I just love your slow ways
Guess that’s why I have five toes and you have three.
by Kevin Libby
Untitled
by Rachel MacMann
A world drained of its color
Now lives in black and white
Life so much duller
The same old thing, every day and every night
Yet one lucky girl
Who holds a bubble in her hand
Gets to see her boring bleak world
As a colorful, lively land.
The streets may be grayscale and barren to all the rest,
But to the girl with the bubble,
The streets do impress
For the girl can see the beauty under all the rubble.
In the end, what makes this photo so pristine
Is that it shows things are not always what they seem.
A world drained of its color
Now lives in black and white
Life so much duller
The same old thing, every day and every night
Yet one lucky girl
Who holds a bubble in her hand
Gets to see her boring bleak world
As a colorful, lively land.
The streets may be grayscale and barren to all the rest,
But to the girl with the bubble,
The streets do impress
For the girl can see the beauty under all the rubble.
In the end, what makes this photo so pristine
Is that it shows things are not always what they seem.
Untitled
by Liam Haley
The cat is sleeping
Inside the red rubber boot
Dreaming a sweet dream
Snoozing like a cat
Dreaming of what cats dream of
The small rubber boot
The cat is sleeping
Inside the red rubber boot
Dreaming a sweet dream
Snoozing like a cat
Dreaming of what cats dream of
The small rubber boot
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Nighttime at Phillies
by Lucy Small
I put on my bright red lipstick,
My favorite dress,
And curled my hair.
Now here we are,
Sitting in Phillies on a Saturday night.
My hat on, sitting next to her.
I place my hand on hers
As she sips her coffee.
I glance at her beautiful face;
After ten years I love her still.
My back to the window.
A thousand more dollars gone,
Not a penny left in the bank.
I look across the bar;
I wish I had a girl too.
I pull the collar of my white uniform.
The clock slowly ticks by,
Almost time for closing.
The lady motions for a refill,
The coffee filling her cup the only noise.
I put on my bright red lipstick,
My favorite dress,
And curled my hair.
Now here we are,
Sitting in Phillies on a Saturday night.
My hat on, sitting next to her.
I place my hand on hers
As she sips her coffee.
I glance at her beautiful face;
After ten years I love her still.
My back to the window.
A thousand more dollars gone,
Not a penny left in the bank.
I look across the bar;
I wish I had a girl too.
I pull the collar of my white uniform.
The clock slowly ticks by,
Almost time for closing.
The lady motions for a refill,
The coffee filling her cup the only noise.
Time
by Leia Owen
It seems the worst memories will always persist,
Yet the good ones are what we should hold onto.
We must know when it's best to just leg go,
For it is true that all things fade through time.
Thought they can consume us, we must resist;
At least, until the our last days are through.
Time is fleeting, just like the birds with their feathers,
Gliding through air until they are wet and broken.
Our memories, too, may fly on from time to time.
We must not let our pasts persist and break our wings,
Thinking of the future, too, a sure waste of ages.
You must turn from the clock and live for here and now.
It seems the worst memories will always persist,
Yet the good ones are what we should hold onto.
We must know when it's best to just leg go,
For it is true that all things fade through time.
Thought they can consume us, we must resist;
At least, until the our last days are through.
Time is fleeting, just like the birds with their feathers,
Gliding through air until they are wet and broken.
Our memories, too, may fly on from time to time.
We must not let our pasts persist and break our wings,
Thinking of the future, too, a sure waste of ages.
You must turn from the clock and live for here and now.
The Journey Home
by Ryan Monteiro
A man on his way home,
returning from a long day.
His horses have been waiting patiently,
like most horses do.
Waiting for the moment their master calls them,
although he's tired from his work.
All he wishes for is to go home,
where his wife and children wait.
And like every other day, their master
will put them in their little homes
with a bed made of hay,
and expected to rest up for the next day.
But for now, the day is departing,
leaving room for the night.
Only the torch on the carriage will lead
the man and his horses home.
A man on his way home,
returning from a long day.
His horses have been waiting patiently,
like most horses do.
Waiting for the moment their master calls them,
although he's tired from his work.
All he wishes for is to go home,
where his wife and children wait.
And like every other day, their master
will put them in their little homes
with a bed made of hay,
and expected to rest up for the next day.
But for now, the day is departing,
leaving room for the night.
Only the torch on the carriage will lead
the man and his horses home.
Party Animal
by Mary Campbell
You don't realize
I lay paralyzed.
Still moving
In coloring,
Leaving you hypnotized.
You can't easily
See me so clearly.
Look harder,
Look further,
You'll see a dancer.
You'll see all my friends,
Parties with no ends.
We do that,
But fall flat
Of what the message meant.
You don't realize
I lay paralyzed.
Still moving
In coloring,
Leaving you hypnotized.
You can't easily
See me so clearly.
Look harder,
Look further,
You'll see a dancer.
You'll see all my friends,
Parties with no ends.
We do that,
But fall flat
Of what the message meant.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Unknown
by Kat Meyer
Kitten said to Dog,
“Tired. Want to sleep.”
To which Dog replied,
“Well, try counting sheep.”
A hundred sheep later, she asked,
“Why me no nap?”
Three wishbones later, he replied,
“Put on a nightcap.”
She put on her nightcap and wailed,
“It no work.”
Dog covered his muzzle and growled,
“I'm gonna go bezerk!”
Kitten whined,
“You no help at all.”
Dog then barked,
“How'd you like being thrown at a wall?!”
Dog then fell fast asleep,
tired from this pest.
Then Kitten snuggled next to him,
making her own little nest.
Kitten and Dog snuggled,
not moving head nor foot
until then morn, when Kitten squirmed,
and Dog growled, “Stay put!”
Kitten said to Dog,
“Tired. Want to sleep.”
To which Dog replied,
“Well, try counting sheep.”
A hundred sheep later, she asked,
“Why me no nap?”
Three wishbones later, he replied,
“Put on a nightcap.”
She put on her nightcap and wailed,
“It no work.”
Dog covered his muzzle and growled,
“I'm gonna go bezerk!”
Kitten whined,
“You no help at all.”
Dog then barked,
“How'd you like being thrown at a wall?!”
Dog then fell fast asleep,
tired from this pest.
Then Kitten snuggled next to him,
making her own little nest.
Kitten and Dog snuggled,
not moving head nor foot
until then morn, when Kitten squirmed,
and Dog growled, “Stay put!”
You Can Do This
by Sami O'Toole
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Let's cut the crap,
before I kick you with my shoe.
Honestly,
it isn't worth the tears.
You have survived perfectly
all these years.
You don't need a man
so don't pretend—
just 'cause you can—
that he will be your friend.
You know he won't.
He will use you and be done.
Fall into his trap, oh know you won't!
You should never let him have his fun.
So run,
far away,
until you reach the sun,
where you will stay
Safe
And
Sound.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Let's cut the crap,
before I kick you with my shoe.
Honestly,
it isn't worth the tears.
You have survived perfectly
all these years.
You don't need a man
so don't pretend—
just 'cause you can—
that he will be your friend.
You know he won't.
He will use you and be done.
Fall into his trap, oh know you won't!
You should never let him have his fun.
So run,
far away,
until you reach the sun,
where you will stay
Safe
And
Sound.
Young Lady in a Boat
by Kat Meyer
The dark blue-green and gray of the gloomy lake and trees
gives the impression of clouds, holding rain brought from seas.
The boat itself looks dark, and the pug is a dark brown,
but what caught my eye the most was the young lady's white gown.
The flowers that sit on the boat look sad, with colors worn;
may have once been pretty, but now look forlorn.
Her face and hat look dark, her curly hair a reddish brown,
making a huge contrast to her gold and white gown.
The dark blue-green and gray of the gloomy lake and trees
gives the impression of clouds, holding rain brought from seas.
The boat itself looks dark, and the pug is a dark brown,
but what caught my eye the most was the young lady's white gown.
The flowers that sit on the boat look sad, with colors worn;
may have once been pretty, but now look forlorn.
Her face and hat look dark, her curly hair a reddish brown,
making a huge contrast to her gold and white gown.
A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte
by Kat Meyer
I hear the people's conversations
I see the many, many relations.
I see the detail in the dots
I feel the grass within the spots.
The people never look ahead,
Their immortal images never dead.
Children laugh, run, and play,
Never knowing they'd be immortal on this day.
I wonder if they knew
They were being watched by you.
To those in the painting, whether it is or not,
It's always a Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grand Jatte.
I hear the people's conversations
I see the many, many relations.
I see the detail in the dots
I feel the grass within the spots.
The people never look ahead,
Their immortal images never dead.
Children laugh, run, and play,
Never knowing they'd be immortal on this day.
I wonder if they knew
They were being watched by you.
To those in the painting, whether it is or not,
It's always a Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grand Jatte.
Swimming Pool in the High Street
by Hannah Carroll
My everyday journey was brightened this morning
By a vision of summer, the sidewalk adorning.
I walked down High Street on my way to work
And ran across a man with an artistic quirk.
Each time he struck the drab sidewalk,
He breathed life into it through the stroke of his chalk.
A woman floating effortlessly in a pool of cement
To spread delight is her intent.
Each person who passes the gleeful scene
Is left with a cheery mood: smiling, joyful, serene.
Who knew that a whimsical habit like this
Could put a whole city in a state of bliss?
My everyday journey was brightened this morning
By a vision of summer, the sidewalk adorning.
I walked down High Street on my way to work
And ran across a man with an artistic quirk.
Each time he struck the drab sidewalk,
He breathed life into it through the stroke of his chalk.
A woman floating effortlessly in a pool of cement
To spread delight is her intent.
Each person who passes the gleeful scene
Is left with a cheery mood: smiling, joyful, serene.
Who knew that a whimsical habit like this
Could put a whole city in a state of bliss?
Behind Her Eye
by Lauren Rich
Her parents wanted a picture of her for her eighth birthday.
I asked her to show me happy, excited, surprised.
She posed for each emotion,
smiling big,
her mouth in a perfect O shape.
I asked her to show me sad.
Anyone could feel the pain showing through her eyes.
She slouched back in her chair,
slowly drifting somewhere else.
I asked her what she was thinking about.
Mommy and Daddy fighting at night,
when they thought she was asleep.
Not loud enough for her to hear every word,
but she didn't need to.
She already knew.
Little did they know
that they were the reason
for the pain behind her glimmering eyes.
Her parents wanted a picture of her for her eighth birthday.
I asked her to show me happy, excited, surprised.
She posed for each emotion,
smiling big,
her mouth in a perfect O shape.
I asked her to show me sad.
Anyone could feel the pain showing through her eyes.
She slouched back in her chair,
slowly drifting somewhere else.
I asked her what she was thinking about.
Mommy and Daddy fighting at night,
when they thought she was asleep.
Not loud enough for her to hear every word,
but she didn't need to.
She already knew.
Little did they know
that they were the reason
for the pain behind her glimmering eyes.
Dead Thoughts
by Hannah Siktberg
Loss.
Depression.
Sadness.
The fear of losing people close to her,
Those who haunt her sleep.
Everyday she wondered,
Are these people real?
Or fake?
Is this life a dream?
Am I Alice?
Did I fall down a hole
And end up in a world of nonsense?
Or have I jumped through a mirror,
To a place where everything is backwards and messed up?
She concluded,
No world is perfect.
No person is real.
Loss.
Depression.
Sadness.
The fear of losing people close to her,
Those who haunt her sleep.
Everyday she wondered,
Are these people real?
Or fake?
Is this life a dream?
Am I Alice?
Did I fall down a hole
And end up in a world of nonsense?
Or have I jumped through a mirror,
To a place where everything is backwards and messed up?
She concluded,
No world is perfect.
No person is real.
The First Kiss
by Rachel MacMunn
A soft, loving kiss
Upon a delicate head.
A mother giraffe
A young, innocent child
Bound together by their love.
The first loving kiss
Upon a delicate head
From a mother giraffe
To her young, innocent calf
A moment captured for life.
A single photo
Worth one thousand words and more
A single moment,
Frozen in time forever.
A soft, loving kiss
Upon a delicate head.
A mother giraffe
A young, innocent child
Bound together by their love.
The first loving kiss
Upon a delicate head
From a mother giraffe
To her young, innocent calf
A moment captured for life.
A single photo
Worth one thousand words and more
A single moment,
Frozen in time forever.
Mr. Huge Lego Man
by Victoria LoRusso
Piece by piece by piece
I was crafted uniquely.
Thousands of yellow squares
Formed together to show my true self.
I pour out my soul—
which only my creator knows—
To the entire world,
allowing my feelings to shine through.
Tell them that I,
Mr. Huge Lego Man,
have feelings like people
but am still unable to voice them.
Piece by piece by piece
I was crafted uniquely.
Thousands of yellow squares
Formed together to show my true self.
I pour out my soul—
which only my creator knows—
To the entire world,
allowing my feelings to shine through.
Tell them that I,
Mr. Huge Lego Man,
have feelings like people
but am still unable to voice them.
Catastrophe
By Ja'Kima Price
I closed my eyes and every sound that I heard before—cars rushing by, people ordering McDonald's through the drive-thru, screeching tires—ceased to exist. My whole body jerked forward, then shot back because of the resistance of my seatbelt. I sat there, unable to open my eyes, unable to move, unable to think.
Then I heard a faint sound. I couldn't make it out at first, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed that it was my mom yelling at me to get out of the car.
Why do I need to get out of the car? I thought to myself.
And then I saw it. Our windshield was cracked, not broken. The hood of the car—or what was left of it—was all scrunched up, and there was smoke everywhere. I closed my eyes again as the smoke found its way into my thoughts.
~~
I woke up to the sound of purring as my cat, PJ, licked my face. It's the usual way he would wake me up. I looked at my phone. It was Friday, July 1, 2011.
It's a new month. Now only a month and twenty-six days until my birthday, I thought.
It was 8 A.M. by the I had gotten up, taken a shower, and eaten breakfast. I went into the kitchen, where my mom was on the phone with my oldest aunt, Samantha.
“We are going to pick Aunt Samantha up from work and take her house hunting,” my mom told me once she got off the phone.
I was actually excited about getting out of the house today, besides the fact that it was almost 100 degrees out. I love visiting my aunt because whenever we get her from her job, she always ends up bringing me to Slim-Jims. We left from our house at eleven, since my aunt got out at twelve. When we arrived at Henry Ford Mailing System, she came straight downstairs.
The first house we looked at was actually right down the street from where my grandmother, Sharon, lived. My mom's car started overheating because of the weather, so we decided to pull into my grandmother's driveway and let the car cool. After an hour, the car was cooled and we drove down the street.
We checked out the first house. It was a little too small, but it was cute and cozy. The second house was all the way on the other side of Detroit. It was way bigger than the first one, but we never saw the insides of it. After that, we decided to go home. We were debating going to Aunt Samantha's house just for a few minutes, but it was still scorching hot outside, so we decided otherwise.
I listened to all the sounds around us. I recognized all the familiar sites I always see: the Coney Island, the 7-Eleven, CVS, the donut shop, a gas station, and McDonald's. McDonald's was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.
~~
I opened my eyes and got out of the car. Pain hit me like ten million bricks. I had to find out what was happening. I had to make some sort of sense out of this while my mom pulled me away from the middle of the street to the sidewalk. When I stopped, I turned around from where we just came from and I noticed our car. It didn't even look like a car anymore; it looked like scrap metal pushed together.
Then reality hit me. We had just had a car accident.
For the first time, I noticed the car we hit: a white pick-up truck. I looked at it closer and became furious that no damage was made to it, except for a dent in its side. I wanted to scream, because we paid the price for what they caused.
As I opened my mouth, no sound came out. I was already in pain. I looked down to see where the pain was coming from, which was a long scar across my chest where the seatbelt had been. It was unpleasant to look at, so I quickly looked away.
I called my aunt to tell her what happened. She was on her way as soon as I hung up. A police car and two ambulances arrived. I'm not sure what was going on after I got off the phone. Everything seemed to fade away: the sound of the sirens, my mom's constant apologies ….
~~
Everything came back to me when I was in the hospital with my two aunts, Samantha and Myneshia. Some of the family members came to the hospital: Aunt Samantha, Aunt Myneshia, Aunt Johnita, Aunt Tiney, Aunt Joann. My grandmother, Betty, came with my three cousins, Mekio, Julia, and Neveah.
Aunt Tiny, Aunt Joann,Grandma Betty, Mekio and Neveah all went home. Aunt Johnita drove all of us to my grandma Sharon's house. My step-dad, Bruce, also arrived there to comfort us.
We stayed until the sun started to set. We couldn't get into the house because the keys were left in our car, so we spent the night at Samantha's house. My mom and I rode in Bruce's car, while Samantha rode in Johnita's.
The day ended with all three of us—my mom, Samantha, and me—in the front room sleeping on the couches. My mom was the only one sleeping; Samantha and I were up watching Alice in Wonderland. I tried to go to sleep, but all of the flashbacks played a constant movie in my head every time I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe what had happened to me today. Most people would just blow it off by the end of the day, but I couldn't. We didn't have a car anymore, and my mom didn't have a job anymore.
But I didn't want to think about the negative things anymore. I pushed them aside and thought of all the positive things, like the fact that I was alive. The police officer said that I was lucky that I had lived. I was sitting in the back passenger side of the car. If only I was sitting in the front ….
To this day, I have dreams about that day. I can never forget about that day. But I did learn one thing from that day: everything happens for a reason, good or bad. You may find out why the same day, the next day, a month, or even a year later. But God doesn't give you a situation without a solution. So, until that day comes, I'll just keep searching and praying.
I closed my eyes and every sound that I heard before—cars rushing by, people ordering McDonald's through the drive-thru, screeching tires—ceased to exist. My whole body jerked forward, then shot back because of the resistance of my seatbelt. I sat there, unable to open my eyes, unable to move, unable to think.
Then I heard a faint sound. I couldn't make it out at first, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed that it was my mom yelling at me to get out of the car.
Why do I need to get out of the car? I thought to myself.
And then I saw it. Our windshield was cracked, not broken. The hood of the car—or what was left of it—was all scrunched up, and there was smoke everywhere. I closed my eyes again as the smoke found its way into my thoughts.
~~
I woke up to the sound of purring as my cat, PJ, licked my face. It's the usual way he would wake me up. I looked at my phone. It was Friday, July 1, 2011.
It's a new month. Now only a month and twenty-six days until my birthday, I thought.
It was 8 A.M. by the I had gotten up, taken a shower, and eaten breakfast. I went into the kitchen, where my mom was on the phone with my oldest aunt, Samantha.
“We are going to pick Aunt Samantha up from work and take her house hunting,” my mom told me once she got off the phone.
I was actually excited about getting out of the house today, besides the fact that it was almost 100 degrees out. I love visiting my aunt because whenever we get her from her job, she always ends up bringing me to Slim-Jims. We left from our house at eleven, since my aunt got out at twelve. When we arrived at Henry Ford Mailing System, she came straight downstairs.
The first house we looked at was actually right down the street from where my grandmother, Sharon, lived. My mom's car started overheating because of the weather, so we decided to pull into my grandmother's driveway and let the car cool. After an hour, the car was cooled and we drove down the street.
We checked out the first house. It was a little too small, but it was cute and cozy. The second house was all the way on the other side of Detroit. It was way bigger than the first one, but we never saw the insides of it. After that, we decided to go home. We were debating going to Aunt Samantha's house just for a few minutes, but it was still scorching hot outside, so we decided otherwise.
I listened to all the sounds around us. I recognized all the familiar sites I always see: the Coney Island, the 7-Eleven, CVS, the donut shop, a gas station, and McDonald's. McDonald's was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.
~~
I opened my eyes and got out of the car. Pain hit me like ten million bricks. I had to find out what was happening. I had to make some sort of sense out of this while my mom pulled me away from the middle of the street to the sidewalk. When I stopped, I turned around from where we just came from and I noticed our car. It didn't even look like a car anymore; it looked like scrap metal pushed together.
Then reality hit me. We had just had a car accident.
For the first time, I noticed the car we hit: a white pick-up truck. I looked at it closer and became furious that no damage was made to it, except for a dent in its side. I wanted to scream, because we paid the price for what they caused.
As I opened my mouth, no sound came out. I was already in pain. I looked down to see where the pain was coming from, which was a long scar across my chest where the seatbelt had been. It was unpleasant to look at, so I quickly looked away.
I called my aunt to tell her what happened. She was on her way as soon as I hung up. A police car and two ambulances arrived. I'm not sure what was going on after I got off the phone. Everything seemed to fade away: the sound of the sirens, my mom's constant apologies ….
~~
Everything came back to me when I was in the hospital with my two aunts, Samantha and Myneshia. Some of the family members came to the hospital: Aunt Samantha, Aunt Myneshia, Aunt Johnita, Aunt Tiney, Aunt Joann. My grandmother, Betty, came with my three cousins, Mekio, Julia, and Neveah.
Aunt Tiny, Aunt Joann,Grandma Betty, Mekio and Neveah all went home. Aunt Johnita drove all of us to my grandma Sharon's house. My step-dad, Bruce, also arrived there to comfort us.
We stayed until the sun started to set. We couldn't get into the house because the keys were left in our car, so we spent the night at Samantha's house. My mom and I rode in Bruce's car, while Samantha rode in Johnita's.
The day ended with all three of us—my mom, Samantha, and me—in the front room sleeping on the couches. My mom was the only one sleeping; Samantha and I were up watching Alice in Wonderland. I tried to go to sleep, but all of the flashbacks played a constant movie in my head every time I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe what had happened to me today. Most people would just blow it off by the end of the day, but I couldn't. We didn't have a car anymore, and my mom didn't have a job anymore.
But I didn't want to think about the negative things anymore. I pushed them aside and thought of all the positive things, like the fact that I was alive. The police officer said that I was lucky that I had lived. I was sitting in the back passenger side of the car. If only I was sitting in the front ….
To this day, I have dreams about that day. I can never forget about that day. But I did learn one thing from that day: everything happens for a reason, good or bad. You may find out why the same day, the next day, a month, or even a year later. But God doesn't give you a situation without a solution. So, until that day comes, I'll just keep searching and praying.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
By Alex Orlandi
Slow down, I say slow down
Hurry up, I say hurry
What do I do?
What do I say?
Time going so slow it is unimaginable to tolerate
Time is going so fast it is impossible to keep up with
Do I need to slow down?
Do I need to hurry up?
Moments rushing down the drain
So SLOW DOWN
Loads and piles of work need to be completed
So HURRY UP
The time tempers
As the intervals increase
And decrease
Swaying back and forth
Time can no longer count as it normally would
Unreadable, and sometimes unmanageable
What devises the actual meaning of time?
The work pace of the people's schedules, not.
It cannot be determined nor used in a timely manner
Irony fills the clock as it gives us time
Subtracting away from our lives
Slow down, I say slow down
Hurry up, I say hurry
What do I do?
What do I say?
Time going so slow it is unimaginable to tolerate
Time is going so fast it is impossible to keep up with
Do I need to slow down?
Do I need to hurry up?
Moments rushing down the drain
So SLOW DOWN
Loads and piles of work need to be completed
So HURRY UP
The time tempers
As the intervals increase
And decrease
Swaying back and forth
Time can no longer count as it normally would
Unreadable, and sometimes unmanageable
What devises the actual meaning of time?
The work pace of the people's schedules, not.
It cannot be determined nor used in a timely manner
Irony fills the clock as it gives us time
Subtracting away from our lives
A Sunday on La Grande Jatte by Hannah Carroll
A little girl's laugh evokes a smile on everyone's face
The sun shines down, its rays wrapping the beach in a warm embrace
Comfort lies embedded in the soft shore
Days spent basking in the light, soaking up the warmth through their pores
Lounging with loved ones in tree lined aisles
Hours walking along the water, sharing stories, laughs and smiles.
Today, a crowd of people stands, separated in pairs,
Enjoying a break form their daily affairs.
They all arrived separately on this bright, sunny day
but are still all connected as they stand on La Grande Jatte.
The sun shines down, its rays wrapping the beach in a warm embrace
Comfort lies embedded in the soft shore
Days spent basking in the light, soaking up the warmth through their pores
Lounging with loved ones in tree lined aisles
Hours walking along the water, sharing stories, laughs and smiles.
Today, a crowd of people stands, separated in pairs,
Enjoying a break form their daily affairs.
They all arrived separately on this bright, sunny day
but are still all connected as they stand on La Grande Jatte.
Little Child, Be Careful by Sami O'Toole
A child's curiousity
Can get her into trouble
And create a great monstrosity,
That may not be acceptable.
Don't touch the spindle,
My dear girl,
For consciousness may dwindle
Into your bed you will curl.
An unyielding sleep,
Your parents,
Will weep,
Over your ailments.
But do not fret,
Your fairies save the day,
Casting their spell, saving you, their pet,
So there everyone will lay.
You will wake,
With true love's kiss.
The curse will break,
And you will live in unending bliss.
Can get her into trouble
And create a great monstrosity,
That may not be acceptable.
Don't touch the spindle,
My dear girl,
For consciousness may dwindle
Into your bed you will curl.
An unyielding sleep,
Your parents,
Will weep,
Over your ailments.
But do not fret,
Your fairies save the day,
Casting their spell, saving you, their pet,
So there everyone will lay.
You will wake,
With true love's kiss.
The curse will break,
And you will live in unending bliss.
The Great Wave at Kamagawa by Hannah Carroll
Sun rays shone brightly
Inviting us to the sea
The light deceived me
Angry waves crash down
Chaos engulfs my body
Pulling me into the deep
The white fingers curl
Grasping my cold, helpless friends
Drowning in darkness
Back on land, it's calm
The catastrophe not known
Until the night falls
Our families cry
My children think to themselves,
"When will he return?"
Inviting us to the sea
The light deceived me
Angry waves crash down
Chaos engulfs my body
Pulling me into the deep
The white fingers curl
Grasping my cold, helpless friends
Drowning in darkness
Back on land, it's calm
The catastrophe not known
Until the night falls
Our families cry
My children think to themselves,
"When will he return?"
The Woman in the Picture by Sami O'Toole
My smile is beautiful
My eyes, mysterious
Alluring,
I am very intriguing.
So why am I ALONE?
I sit on a wall,
Watching hundreds pass
But every day I know,
I am still ALONE.
You know my face,
A household name,
And he is to blame!
For painting me all ALONE.
By now I'm sure,
You know who I am,
Mona Lisa
Up on your wall,
ALONE
My eyes, mysterious
Alluring,
I am very intriguing.
So why am I ALONE?
I sit on a wall,
Watching hundreds pass
But every day I know,
I am still ALONE.
You know my face,
A household name,
And he is to blame!
For painting me all ALONE.
By now I'm sure,
You know who I am,
Mona Lisa
Up on your wall,
ALONE
Abstract painting
By Tatyana Dobay
My emotions are running wild
Each color resembling a feeling
I pick up the paintbrush like a wild child
When will come the healing
this calamity stabs like a knife
It's bringing out a part of me I never knew I had
Nothing feels right
maybe this will help a tad
blue as my sadness
green as my doubt
Red and orange as my anger and madness
Black and white as I shout
As all the colors mix, they resemble the mixed emotions I am thinking
I can think straight, my mind feels as if its shrinking
By Tatyana Dobay
My emotions are running wild
Each color resembling a feeling
I pick up the paintbrush like a wild child
When will come the healing
this calamity stabs like a knife
It's bringing out a part of me I never knew I had
Nothing feels right
maybe this will help a tad
blue as my sadness
green as my doubt
Red and orange as my anger and madness
Black and white as I shout
As all the colors mix, they resemble the mixed emotions I am thinking
I can think straight, my mind feels as if its shrinking
The Fairest of Them All by Catlin McGowan
The fairest of them all should be me.
After all,
I am her step mother
The sparkle in her eyes show her love for him
This look is despicable
Prince "Charming"
What's that supposed to mean?
He is not so charming to me.
Seeing Snow's happiness kills me inside.
That girl should have been dead years ago
If it weren't for those dumb dwarfs who saved her
I would have been considered
The fairest of them all.
After all,
I am her step mother
The sparkle in her eyes show her love for him
This look is despicable
Prince "Charming"
What's that supposed to mean?
He is not so charming to me.
Seeing Snow's happiness kills me inside.
That girl should have been dead years ago
If it weren't for those dumb dwarfs who saved her
I would have been considered
The fairest of them all.
The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere by Victoria LoRusso
The clock strikes midnight,
The fast pace of horses hooves,
A cry. Moving on.
The fast pace of horses hooves,
A cry. Moving on.
Why Ms.? by Kelly Young
Now Ms.,
I know you have been posing for a while;
But why, Ms., do you not exactly smile?
You are not mad,
You are not sad,
Then why Ms., do you not portray the emotion of glad?
Your smile, I've heard is white as the moon.
I've been painting you for hours, 'tis nearly noon;
will that smile appear soon?
Still, I don't know why,
You're as magnificent as the sky,
But why do you look rather sly?
Now Ms.,
I know you have been posing for a while;
But tell me Ms.,
Please,
Why do you not exactly smile?
I know you have been posing for a while;
But why, Ms., do you not exactly smile?
You are not mad,
You are not sad,
Then why Ms., do you not portray the emotion of glad?
Your smile, I've heard is white as the moon.
I've been painting you for hours, 'tis nearly noon;
will that smile appear soon?
Still, I don't know why,
You're as magnificent as the sky,
But why do you look rather sly?
Now Ms.,
I know you have been posing for a while;
But tell me Ms.,
Please,
Why do you not exactly smile?
Sky Above Clouds by Hannah Carroll
Feeling invincible floating in total solitude,
Detached from the city streets, alone.
Gliding over treetops, skyscrapers and clouds.
White, fluffy haze goes on further than the horizon,
While the sky stretches in shades of indigo
Into the plush, pastel sunset. I sail into the sunset,
Whose beauty can provide solitude.
The brightness that comes before night's dark indigo
Is a sight that stands alone.
As day melts into the horizon,
I watch as the wind moves clouds.
Detached from the city streets, alone.
Gliding over treetops, skyscrapers and clouds.
White, fluffy haze goes on further than the horizon,
While the sky stretches in shades of indigo
Into the plush, pastel sunset. I sail into the sunset,
Whose beauty can provide solitude.
The brightness that comes before night's dark indigo
Is a sight that stands alone.
As day melts into the horizon,
I watch as the wind moves clouds.
Amazing Art in the City
By Tatyana Dobay
Beep Beep the taxi's talk
Whoosh whoosh the wind blows
Click clack the people walk
Squeak the subway goes
The city so loud
Brightness fills your eyes
Anywhere you decide to go you push through a crowd
Looking at the building your head will rise
Cars and taxis with no time to wait
Always rushing to get to where they need to go, not seeming to witty
So make your leave five minutes early for your date
Cause there's no time to wait in the big city
By Tatyana Dobay
Beep Beep the taxi's talk
Whoosh whoosh the wind blows
Click clack the people walk
Squeak the subway goes
The city so loud
Brightness fills your eyes
Anywhere you decide to go you push through a crowd
Looking at the building your head will rise
Cars and taxis with no time to wait
Always rushing to get to where they need to go, not seeming to witty
So make your leave five minutes early for your date
Cause there's no time to wait in the big city
Clock Melting Clocks by Rachel Macmann
I'm melting.
Time is running out.
My big hand has slowed
My hour hand has broken down completely.
Half of me lays here, the other half trickles off the edge of the block I rest upon.
My gold frame liquidates
My glass case liquidates
My numbers slide through the goo that was once my strong body.
I see the silver clock
As he, too, melts away into nothing,
Flimsy and broken as he sits on the branch beside me
Looking like nothing more than a pancake.
Another falls over an old, unwanted blanket
Her platinum circle dripping onto the sand of the beach,
Her hands melting into nothing
And she no longer is able to tick-tock or keep time.
Our time to keep time has timed out
And we are now nothing more than melting clocks melting.
The Beauty of Night by Kelly Young
The town right below,
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
The cool wind travels,
like waves crashing to the shore
continuously.
The stars hovering,
like angels over the town,
brightening the night.
Alone to the right,
stands the moon watching over
the sleeping children.
The church stands tall,
its point facing the black sky;
all the town's center.
The trees act as guards,
protecting the citizens
from evils of night.
All is safe and sound,
no reasons to fear the dark.
Everything is calm.
The town right below,
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
The cool wind travels,
like waves crashing to the shore
continuously.
The stars hovering,
like angels over the town,
brightening the night.
Alone to the right,
stands the moon watching over
the sleeping children.
The church stands tall,
its point facing the black sky;
all the town's center.
The trees act as guards,
protecting the citizens
from evils of night.
All is safe and sound,
no reasons to fear the dark.
Everything is calm.
The town right below,
does not know of the beauty;
the beauty of night.
Within by Mary Campbell
I want to create
Something no one understands
That holds a meaning
That anyone can structure
By their personal opinion.
They will search for hours
For what's lying within
And when they conclude
What they think it really means
They won't be settled for now.
It will make people
Look and it will engross them
Whit the colors and
The techniques I have mastered
They will look for what's within.
Something no one understands
That holds a meaning
That anyone can structure
By their personal opinion.
They will search for hours
For what's lying within
And when they conclude
What they think it really means
They won't be settled for now.
It will make people
Look and it will engross them
Whit the colors and
The techniques I have mastered
They will look for what's within.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
My Last Dilemma
Original work and translation by Laysa Bulhões
No quadro eu pinto o que é dificil expressar
O que não consigo identificar
Suas palavras eu tento entender
Mas com seus atos, só consigo sofrer
Minhas lagrimas se secam sozinhas
Porque você não se importa
Um homen que já não conheço mais
Agora me perguntas, “Qual é o problema?”
É você, meu primeiro amor
Me último dilema
On the canvas I paint what it's hard to express
What I can't identify
Your words, I try to understand
Your actions, only make me ache
My tear dry by themselves
Because of your neglect
A man who I no longer know
Now asks, “What's your problem?”
It is you, my first love
My last dilemma
No quadro eu pinto o que é dificil expressar
O que não consigo identificar
Suas palavras eu tento entender
Mas com seus atos, só consigo sofrer
Minhas lagrimas se secam sozinhas
Porque você não se importa
Um homen que já não conheço mais
Agora me perguntas, “Qual é o problema?”
É você, meu primeiro amor
Me último dilema
On the canvas I paint what it's hard to express
What I can't identify
Your words, I try to understand
Your actions, only make me ache
My tear dry by themselves
Because of your neglect
A man who I no longer know
Now asks, “What's your problem?”
It is you, my first love
My last dilemma
A Story of Love
Original work and translation by Anna Eliza Pereira
Não sei usar uma expressão
E as palavra se perdem na trauçãu
Estão tão perto e me sinto tão longe
De onde guia o coracao
As palavras diminuem o que eu sinto
Não sei qual é o meu destino
Como o mundo, minha cabeça dá voltas
Como o vento, a emoção não volta
A lua me levará
A um caminho que se realizará
Um sonho do coração
Uma história de paixão
I am out of expressions
The words are lost in translation
I am so close, but feel very far
To where the heart guides
Words diminish my feelings
I don't know what my destiny is
Like the world, my head is spinning
Like the wind, my emotions come and go
The moon will take me
To a road which will fulfill
A dream from the heart
A story of love
Não sei usar uma expressão
E as palavra se perdem na trauçãu
Estão tão perto e me sinto tão longe
De onde guia o coracao
As palavras diminuem o que eu sinto
Não sei qual é o meu destino
Como o mundo, minha cabeça dá voltas
Como o vento, a emoção não volta
A lua me levará
A um caminho que se realizará
Um sonho do coração
Uma história de paixão
I am out of expressions
The words are lost in translation
I am so close, but feel very far
To where the heart guides
Words diminish my feelings
I don't know what my destiny is
Like the world, my head is spinning
Like the wind, my emotions come and go
The moon will take me
To a road which will fulfill
A dream from the heart
A story of love
Monday, January 30, 2012
The Game of War
by Dan King
To play MW3 or not to play MW3--that is the question:
Whether 'ti nobler in the mind of suffer
The bullets and grenades of tormenting twelve year-olds
Or to take the controller and mic against Elder Scrolls V,
and by playing, enjoy it. To deathmatch--to lag--
No more; and my campaign we do away with
Makarov, and the world war he left
That the earth is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly praised by many. To spawn, to die--
To spawn--perchance to get a killstreak, aye, there's the fun.
For in that game of war what chances may come,
When we turn the corner to the other team,
Shall frighten us. There's the killcam
That make disgrace of so good a player.
For who would bear the kills and airstrikes of newbs,
Th' newbs' idiocy, the pro's frustration
The pangs of despised teammates, the lag's delay
The inaudible voice of the child, and attempts to mute.
The lacking merit of th' underage child
When he himself might be made of of,
quit and lag the entire game? Who would play?
To spawn in die under a weary cycle
But that dread of a different game,
The undiscovered controls from which,
No one truly understands, puzzles the mind
And makes us rather bear the ills of COD
Than to the others that we know not of?
Thus, COD does make cowards of us all,
Our natural curiosity only extending to MW4,
And enterprises with great games and fun,
Ignore their games and turn awry.
And lose the name of gaming.
To play MW3 or not to play MW3--that is the question:
Whether 'ti nobler in the mind of suffer
The bullets and grenades of tormenting twelve year-olds
Or to take the controller and mic against Elder Scrolls V,
and by playing, enjoy it. To deathmatch--to lag--
No more; and my campaign we do away with
Makarov, and the world war he left
That the earth is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly praised by many. To spawn, to die--
To spawn--perchance to get a killstreak, aye, there's the fun.
For in that game of war what chances may come,
When we turn the corner to the other team,
Shall frighten us. There's the killcam
That make disgrace of so good a player.
For who would bear the kills and airstrikes of newbs,
Th' newbs' idiocy, the pro's frustration
The pangs of despised teammates, the lag's delay
The inaudible voice of the child, and attempts to mute.
The lacking merit of th' underage child
When he himself might be made of of,
quit and lag the entire game? Who would play?
To spawn in die under a weary cycle
But that dread of a different game,
The undiscovered controls from which,
No one truly understands, puzzles the mind
And makes us rather bear the ills of COD
Than to the others that we know not of?
Thus, COD does make cowards of us all,
Our natural curiosity only extending to MW4,
And enterprises with great games and fun,
Ignore their games and turn awry.
And lose the name of gaming.
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