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Acknowledgments
Young Writers Project is an idea: Student voice is essential; we must both nurture it andlearn from it. Now in our seventh year, YWP has an almost endless list of people to thankwho have helped us with our mission: Parents and teachers, benefactors and volunteers, staffand advisers, foundations and businesses, artists and mentors, and, of course, thousands ofyouth who have written with YWP.
For those of you coming to these pages for the first time, YWP is an intricate beast:
s7EAREAVIBRANTONLINECOMMUNITYOFCIVILCREATIVETEENSONyoungwritersproject.org;s7EAREAREGULARSERIESOFBESTWORKINNEWSPAPERSANDON6ERMONT0UBLIC
Radio;s7EAREACOMMUNITYORGANIZATIONWORKINGWITHSCHOOLSARTISTSNEIGHBORHOODGROUPSINTHE/LD.ORTH%NDOF"URLINGTONANDTHROUGHOUT6ERMONTAND
s7EAREANEDUCATIONALPROJECTWORKINGINSCHOOLSWITHTEACHERSAND
students through a digital classroom platform and ongoing training and mentoring.
4HEREAREAFEWORGANIZATIONSANDPEOPLEWHONEEDANODFORTHEIRSPECIALHELPTHISYEARMedia partners: Addison Independent, Barton Chronicle, Brattleboro Reformer, Burlington Free Press,
Caledonian Record, Charlotte News, Colchester Sun, Essex Reporter, Milton Independent, North Avenue News,Randolph Herald, Rural Route Today, Rutland Herald, St. Albans Messenger, Stowe Reporter, Times Argus,Valley News, Waterbury Record and Williston Observer and Vermont Public Radio.
Major donors: Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, Bay & Paul Foundations, A.D. Hender-son Foundation, FairPoint Communications, Physicians Computer Company, Amy E. Tarrant&OUNDATION *ANE"#OOK#HARITABLE4RUSTS6ERMONT#OUNTRY3TORE"IRDSEYE&OUNDATION-AIN3TREET,ANDING6ERMONT#OMMUNITY&OUNDATION5NITED7AYOF#HITTENDEN#OUNTY
+EY"ANKANDOURFOUNDERS6ERMONT"USINESS2OUNDTABLE4HANKYOUTOEVERYONEWHOHASgiven so generously.
YWP leaders: Board chairman Stephen Kiernan is untiring in his work on YWPs behalf.4HEBOARD3UZANNE"ESTE'ARRITY*OHN#ANNING,UCY#OMSTOCK'AY4ED&ISHER+ATHY&OLLEY6AL'ARDNER#ARMEN'EORGE3ABINA(ASKELL-ICHAEL-ATHON-OLLY-C#LASKEY3ARAQuayle, Jeff Rutenbeck, Meg Smith, Sarah Soule, Bob Stevens and Jane Swift.
YWP staff: Kate Stein, the glue that holds us together; Susan Reid, the guru of publica-tions; Doug DeMaio, Facebook maven and web workhorse; and teacher coaches DarcieAbbene, Nick Brooks, Pam Campbell, Cindy Faughnan, Kathy Folley and Lisa Italiano. AndSPECIALADVISERS"ARBARA'ANLEY,ISA6ENTRISSAND4OM#ARLSON 4HISBOOKWASDERIVEDFROMPIECESOFWRITINGANDPIECESOFART7ECOULDNT
have done this without our YWP summer interns, particularly Katy Turner, Jessica Austinand Bridget Iverson. Thank you. And pulling all this together was the maestro, Susan Reid.Her attention to detail and content make this book our best yet. Many thanks, too, to AndreaGray, our graphic designer, and to Queen City Printing, who once again did their magic.
Our dedication this year was easy: Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, Inc., has shownremarkable generosity and advisory support in shaping this year, which has been our mostambitious. Their counsel is as valuable as their financial gifts. Thank you. We dedicate this workto their belief it is important to give audience to good ideas and to strengthen student voice.
A special thanks, of course, to all you writers, the ones you see here, but mostly the onesyou dont, the ones driven by the audience of their own soul, by the understanding theyhave something to say or by the recognition of the importance of writing to our success as ademocracy. Thank you. Keep trying and keep opening that window for us to see what you see.
Geoffrey Gevalt, YWP director and founder
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This work is dedicated to the people
at Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, Inc.,
who understand the value
of developing a childs voice.
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Katy Trahan
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Introduction
By Katherine Paterson
)NINANESSAYONTHEHIPPIESOF(AIGHT!SHBURY*OAN$IDIONLAMENTEDh4HEYFEEDback exactly what is given them. Because they do not believe in words . . . They are sixteen,
fifteen, fourteen years old, younger all the time, an army of children waiting to be given the
words.
)NWEWHOAREOLDERWORRYABOUTTHISYOUNGERGENERATIONWHOCOMMUNICATEIN
TEXTSOFCHARACTERSORLESSANDWHOGETTHEIRINFORMATIONABOUTTHEWORLDINSOUNDBITES
Without rich language, we wonder, how can one think? And if too few people are able to
think deeply and critically, how will democracy survive?
When young people ask me for advice on how to become a writer, I say: Read. That is
how you learn, not only the words you need but also how language works, how story works
and how the minds and hearts of other people work.
In graduate school, once, one of my professors stopped me in the hall. She said she had
just finished reading an exam Id written and wondered if Id thought of becoming a writer. I
WASAREADER)KNEWWHATGREATWRITINGWASAND)KNEW)DIDNTMEASUREUPh.Ov)REPLIED
h)WOULDNTWANTTOADDANOTHERMEDIOCREWRITERTOTHEWORLDv
h7ELLvSHESAIDh-AYBETHATISWHAT'ODISCALLINGYOUTOBEv
I couldnt believe God was in need of more mediocre writers, but I finally figured out what
the professor was saying. If I wasnt willing to risk mediocrity, even failure, I wouldnt become
a writer at all.
So Im thrilled to introduce a volume written by young people who are willing to take
RISKSANDWHOAREBOLDLYGOINGBEYONDCHARACTERS4HEYHAVEDAREDTOWRITEITDOWNFOR
all of us to read, and appreciate. I thank them for this.
Katherine Paterson is the Newbery Medal award winning author ofJacob Have I Loved andBridgeto Terabithia. In 2010, Katherine Paterson was named the second National Ambassador for Young
Peoples Literature by the Library of Congress and the Childrens Book Council. She is a board member and
instrumental supporter of Vermont College of Fine Arts.
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Nightmare Clouds
Coyote Farrell
Richmond Middle School, Grade 7
They comerolling across the sky,
across the mountains.
Dark
black
masses.
If the white ones that flit
across the wide expanse of blue
are dreams,
then the ones that overwhelm
the brightness of the sun now
are nightmares.
The whole mountain
is encompassed in a sense of gloom.
Terrifying,
thats what the clouds are.
They come rolling in,
piled up so thick
that they can block out
the light of the world.
Anything
could reside in their depths,
thunder,
lightning,
rain,
hail.
But what they holdis a treasure.
I know
that what falls from the black masses
people have been wishing to come.
When they open their doors,
those colossal, amorphous shapes
will release fragile crystals.
They will smother the grass,
which has been alivefor months too long,
and winter might finally begin.
Slow Dance
Aliza Silverstein
Homeschool, Hyde Park, Grade 10
That last leaf I told you about?She lost the bet, she fell.
Invisible hands plucked her from her
branch.
Remember the pond I described?
The ice has stilled it
no wind can bother it now.
It can rest for a season.
The colors have given way
to the next step,
the crystalline white, you know.
Its the beginning of the slow dance, my
love,
when weary partners catch their breath
and lean against each other,
their tango-scuffed shoes
tracing circles in peaceful meditation.
Now is the time to rest, my dear,
before the constellations spin
themselves back to the beginning,
and the spirit of the martyred leaf
reascends to her lofty twig.
Now is the time to rest,
for when the slow dance is done,
a new song is begun.
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Theres No Way Around It
Tessie McDonnell
Rutland High School, Grade 10
Its simple but its not.
The way her curls bounce in her wake, and she lets out carefree shrills of girlishexcitement, gives me the most twisted emotions. The way her parents are tucked away
all day, getting caught up on sleep or absorbed into the monitor of their computer,
leaves her needing attention. Needing love. I want to wash her face with warm water
and give her a princess tiara, but that wont fill her empty void thats only going to get
larger as she matures.
Its simple but its not.
The way that she has low expectations. She expects to be happy, to let her own
laughter nourish her soul, to let the sun that beats down through the pine trees in her
backyard allow a smile to come across her face. She expects a hug a day, and turnsto me. I pick her up and spin her around, feeling full to the brim with love, by the
animated excitement in her eyes.
Its simple but its not.
The way that its only going to get worse over time. As she ages more, shes going
to need more complex things. Shes going to need a mom to teach her about her body,
about boys, and about how everything can be so dangerous. Shes going to need a
father to scoop her up in his arms at the end of a long school day, and when the man
in her life leaves her hanging.
I can see myself in her eyes. And all I can do is love her to pieces, and playairplanes with her.
Tiffany BarnesEssex High School, Grade 9
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Caitria Sands
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Bit Like Summer
Braeden Hughes
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 11
Sometimes you wake up and the way the sun comes through the windowsreminds you a little bit of summer. You open the door and where the dark siding of
the house has absorbed sun, you can stand and be warm. You drink chai with not
quite enough sugar and the earth is wet from the rain, but the sun shines on your face
and a slow smile creeps across your lips because you feel peaceful holding yourself
there in the sun. You know if there were someone sitting on the couch in the living
room watching you, they would think, she is beautiful in the sunlight.
But you are alone and thats part of what makes it so special: that the house is
empty and you can listen to the music that no one else in your family likes and you
dont have to say anything because only the walls are listening.
And you think about the people who were on the phone last night because
their faces are on a constant loop in your mind, thinking about where they are and
what is going through their heads and how theylook in the sun. You do a little bit of
homework because it starts your mind moving and because you dont actually hate
homework, you just hate when you dont have time to do it. The window draws your
eyes occasionally, and you think about the people again: a mischievous smile, soft hair,
a soprano voice over the phone, a husky chuckle, amber-green eyes. You miss them,
but its with the warm sort of ache in knowing that youll see them soon. (Beneath
that is the raw hunger of another absence, but it bubbles quietly on mornings like this
and you dont talk about it much anyway. People never quite know what to say in
RESPONSEEXCEPThSORRYv
You put on shorts to go outside and think about how you havent done that
in a long time. You run along the rutted dirt roads, feeling your ponytail bounce
and muscles burn. You cant really breathe. This is the time of year you always get
bronchitis, but you inhale against the chill in the wind and keep running. Your breasts
sway slightly against their wire prison and you think about big hands that fit into the
curve of your waist. (A dark-haired girls thin fingers playing with your hair. Yourefalling asleep on the mattress listening to her hum to herself, and it makes you want
TOCRYTHINKINGABOUTHOWBEAUTIFULSHEIS9OURUNUPTHELASTHILLFEELINGYOURHEAD
spin. You should have eaten before you left, but you didnt want to; the curves of your
stomach rounded out too far this morning. You reach the top, and cough violently but
inhale against it, knowing that the burn in your esophagus will fade in an hour. The sun
warms your shoulder blades and you stretch them delicately, feeling part of yourself
open to the light and the wind. You think about a city and what it would feel like to
drift in the perfect blue of the sky. You think about her eyes and you think about your
mother, and then you walk down the driveway singing tunelessly because you cantactually sing so you only sing to yourself and the woods. You go inside the house and
drink apple cider in the open doorway and the sun feels a little bit like summer.
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I Love You Still
Tya Johnson
Essex High School, Grade 11
Ive got you underneath my fingernailsand I dont know how
youve stained yourself on my skin in
criss-crossing lines
that make no sense
and I dont know what to say, I dont
know
what to do when Im around you.
Baby, baby, I loved you once and I loved
you twice and I love you still,
but youve got your hair falling in your
eyes
and I dont think that you can see me
because Ive got
my heart open and my eyes are shining
and I cant seem to speak
when you laugh and sit down next to
me.
Youve got that smile that makes my
heart stop every time, that
look that you make when you look my
way never fails
to leave me breathless and I think
that I just might be falling more in love
with you than last timebecause I loved you for so many
innocent years,
but I gave up on you because how could
someone beautiful
love back someone ugly like me?
Baby, baby, I loved you once and I loved
you twice and I love you still.
I used to watch you run like the wind
around dirt tracks
and when your hair was flipped to theside and your eyes were shining
I thought that maybe, just maybe
you could see me, but you couldnt
because back then I was invisible.
Perfection does not exist in this world,
but baby,
you come pretty damn close
with those young eyes and wide smilesand the way you
play that guitar makes me wonder if
maybe
you could hold me like that someday, if
maybe
you could look at me with such utter
concentration and love
so I could tell you that all this time Ive
been falling in love with you.
Baby, baby, I loved you once and I loved
you twice and I love you still,
but Im too afraid of clichs to brush the
hair out of your eyes
and to look you in the face and ask you
if maybe, just maybe
you can finally see me.
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Mirror
Julia Dunn
Mount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 9
I am not the girl in the mirrorWho smiles in the hall
And seems to burst with
Confidence.
I am not the girl in the mirror
Who laughs all the time
And doesnt seem to
Give a care.
I am the girl standing
In front of the mirror
With a tear down her cheek
And fear in her heart.
I am the girl standing
In front of the mirror,
Reminding herself every day
It is worth it.
The Unlucky Ones
Jeremy Brotz
Homeschool, Burlington, Grade 7
Oh, if I could solve a problem inBurlington,
I would help the less lucky ones,
The ones with less than less.
Id give them money:
They could get new clothes,
They could get a nice comfy tent,
Or some good food to eat.
Yes, if I could solve a problem in
Burlington,
I would help the forgotten ones,
The ones without a home.
Margaret Slate
Peoples Academy, Grade 10
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I Remember
Ada Case
Edmunds Middle School, Grade 6
I rememberThe day my brother was born
!THOME/CTOBER
I saw it
Even though I was only
*USTTURNED
And I practiced
Practiced writing his name over
And over
Zera
%RZA
Zra
5NTIL)FINALLYGOTITRIGHT
%ZRA
%ZRA
%ZRA
I remember
I remember
My first day of
Kindergarten
When I went into the
Wrong classroom
And I cried
And cried
I remember
I remember
In second gradeWhen our teacher was very sick
I think with some sort of cancer
Maybe
And we had a sub
For most of that year
And I did not like her
I remember
I remember
In second grade
When my friend got a tumor
In her back
)DIDNOTREALIZE
At the timeThat she had cancer
But I was scared for her
And when my mom told me about it
For the first time
On Easter
I cried
But she survived
I remember
I rememberWhen my sister
Fiona
Was born
-ARCH
At home
I saw it
And I got to hold
Her
First
I remember
I remember
When Fiona
Fell
Out
The
Window
But she was
OK
I remember
I remember
When my parents told us
That they were
Getting
Divorced
I remember.
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Braiding Fate
Kate Cipolla
Homeschool, Montpelier, Grade 10
Twist twist twisttwist twist twist
twist twist twist
as I braid myself a new
bookmark I wonder if the fates
arent knitters but braiders and this
life thing is a lot simpler than we think
and instead
of stitches and needles and a ball of
yarn that is waiting to be cut its just
three strands of yarn that have already
been cut and tied and all there is to
life is
twist twist twist
it seems almost too simple and we have
been taught that everything is more
complex than
it seems that there is no such thing as a
free lunchand usually theyre right its rarely that
easy sometimes a
cross on the path is simply two sticks
that
happened to fall on top of each other
and a shooting
star is just a chunk of rock I think it
would be in
our nature, a certain irony residing deepin our bones if life was so easy as
twist twist twist.
Douglas Schonholtz
Essex High School, Grade 10
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Earthquake
Eva Theriault
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 12
The first morning was a Saturday, but the month doesnt matter so much asthe year doesnt matter as much as the day of the week matters. You used to know
the date, the year. I used to sleep in late. You were always reading the newspaper.
We both used to remember each other, until we found it in ourselves to forget. That
first morning, after the second and third and four-hundredth mornings, that was the
beginning.
9OUWEREALWAYSTELLINGMEh$ONTLOSEYOURKEYS$ONTFORGETTOBUYMORECOFFEE
Your shirt needs ironing. And I would find the keys before I lost them, and I would
buy the coffee and iron the shirt. I was always behind schedule or making a fool of
myself. You were generous and I was wasteful, sheepish, untidy. You had a garden, an
orchard. I reminded you of your late mother. Everything was my fault.
You were obsessed with pointing out my flaws. The second morning I burned the
toast and set off all the smoke alarms in the apartment. The seventh morning I made
what you yelled was the worst cup of coffee you had ever drank. The forty-third
morning I didnt make the bed.
You liked everything just so. Blue shirt ironed and buttoned-up. You wouldnt
wear corduroys or tennis sneakers. Wouldnt use any other brand of shaving cream.
Never drank except on Christmas, and then only the third, the eighth, the eleventh, the
twelfth, the thirteenth, the fifteenth, the sixteenth, and the seventeenth years we were
TOGETHER!NDTHENYOUDRANKEVERYFEWMONTHSEVERYWEEKTWICEAWEEK6ODKA
scotch, whiskey. Every day.
I could see you cracking and crumbling like a building on a fault line. First there
were hairline cracks in the foundation, or mold rotting the wooden beams under the
floor. Or maybe you just werent built to endure the earth opening up underneath
you, swallowing bricks and muscles and concrete. With every drink there was another
murmur in your heart like there was in the earth, and you tried not to show me how
close you were to collapsing altogether.And I went on overcooking the eggs and overboiling the pasta and underironing
my blouses and undermaking the bed until the first morning, that Saturday.
I woke up and the air felt different: harder, firmer, warmer and sickly sweet. The
sheets were clammy and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton. The clouds were low-
hanging, dark, and heavy. It took a conscious effort not to fall back to sleep. I walked
down the stairs, one at a time, the sweaty bottoms of my feet sticking to the wood. We
DIDNTLOOKALIKEYOUAND)BUTWEHADTHESAMESIZEFEET7EWALKEDDOWNTHESTAIRS
the same way, so that after seventeen years of walking down these stairs there were
worn foot-shaped spots. On the step above the landing you could even make outindividual toes. The wall above the wainscoting in the stairwell had smudge marks that
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looked like bruises. You would scrub them with all-purpose cleaning fluid every now
and then, but they didnt fade or turn green the way real bruises do.
The first floor of the house was oak, and the second was carpet. The grain of the
wood pointed all different ways, and the seams were coming apart as the wood aged.
I was inching along in bare feet and a bathrobe when I felt a sharp pain in my heel.When I twisted my ankle around so the sole of my foot was pointing at the ceiling, I
saw a small sliver of glass covered in blood. The next step also brought a sharp pain
and another sliver of glass, and the next, until I was walking on shards of broken glass
in puddles of amber liquid that stung the cuts in my feet as I walked through the study
and the dining room to the kitchen.
There I found you, face down with yesterdays newspaper over your head and
the cord of our Black and Decker iron wrapped around your neck. You had smashed
bottles all around you: fish sauce, Jamaican dark rum, vanilla extract, rose flower
water, Tabasco sauce, red wine, white wine, soy sauce, peanut oil, vodka, milk bottles,sunflower oil, a bottle of preserved red peppers and capers. The liquid was leaking
under the doors, seeping in the cracks of the floor you promised wed get repaired,
soaking into the cream-colored cable sweater I bought for your birthday. You were
always reading the newspaper.
That morning, I didnt make the bed. I didnt wash the dishes or burn any toast,
because I didnt make breakfast. I didnt make coffee because I didnt want to wake up
any more. With the soles of my feet still bleeding and still wrapped in my bathrobe, I
walked out the door, through the garden and the orchard, the only things you cared
for all these years, as the aftershocks began.
Brady Bessette
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Uncle Matthew: My Hero And Light
Matthew Andrew
Vermont Commons School, Grade 7
/NEOFTHEMOSTIMPORTANTPEOPLEINMYLIFEHASALWAYSBEEN5NCLE-ATTHEWMYGODFATHERMYROLEMODELMYINSPIRATION5NCLE-ATTHEWISTHENICESTPERSON
imaginable. Everyone loves him. You can see kindness in his dark brown eyes and
hear it in his gentle voice. He looks like a movie star on the outside he is handsome
and in good shape but inside, he has had a kidney transplant and part of a lung
REMOVED5NCLE-ATTHEWHASTHEBIGGESTHEARTFULLOFDEPTHBUTITISDISEASEDNOW
BECAUSE5NCLE-ATTHEWHASINHERITEDPOLYCYSTICKIDNEYDISEASEASERIOUSCHRONIC
disease where cysts grow in kidneys and other organs.
9ETTHROUGHITALL5NCLE-ATTHEWHASBEENCOURAGEOUS(EHASPERSEVEREDTHROUGH
his downdraft. As life-threatening as his sicknesses were, he has done everything to
OVERCOMETHEM(ISMOTHERDIEDFROM0+$AND5NCLE-ATTHEWCOULDHAVETOO
7HENHENEEDEDAKIDNEYTRANSPLANT5NCLE-ATTHEWHADTOTELLHISSTORYTOMANY
people. A man who he hardly knew heard about him and volunteered to give up his
KIDNEYINORDERTOSAVE5NCLE-ATTHEW"ECAUSEHENOWHASONLYONEKIDNEY5NCLE
Matthew cannot drink any alcohol, and he needs to watch his diet. He has excellent
SELFCONTROL(EHASTOHAVESURGERYONHISHEARTNEXT"UT5NCLE-ATTHEWNEVER
complains. He has found his way back from pain and strife. He has turned his conflict
into his own positive strength. He is the bravest man I know.
5NCLE-ATTHEWHASTAUGHTMESOMEWONDERFULMORALSANDLESSONS(EHAS
shown me that you can always pick yourself up whenever you are down; you can
OVERCOMEYOURCHALLENGES5NCLE-ATTHEWHASTAKENAFULLLEAPOVERHISSTRUGGLESAND
is successful in his life. He has dignity.
5NCLE-ATTHEWISAGREATFATHERTOHISTWOWONDERFULCHILDRENANDISATRUEFRIEND
of mine. I know that he will always be strong, kind, and be by my side whenever I
need him. I really look up to him and am appreciative of what he has taught me. He
ISJUSTLIKETHEPHOENIXBURNINGBRIGHTBEFOREITTURNSTOASHESANDRECREATES5NCLE
Matthews conflict has led him to light. He is my hero in life.
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(Makebelieve)
Katelyn JewellMount Mansfield Union High School, Grade 12
November is calling to you
from behind crinkled sheets of paper
& crumpled bedsheets,
his fingers coiling around
your bitter wrists
& fastened hair.
He is climbing out
from beneath the wood paneling,
his knots unhitching,
one by one,
with every finger kissed.
4HESEASONSDONTAPOLOGIZE
to anyone
& neither do their children.
Autumn & Winter
raised November with a stern hand
& too many rules.
How could he ever grow up to be
a good man?
He laughs when his younger sisters
toss hurricanes at one another,
CONTEMPTUOUSOFTHEIRBREEZIERLOTS
He only speaks
when spoken to& avoids picking fights
at all costs.
Head down, November storms
through the streets
with a quickened step,
AVOIDINGEVERYONESGAZE
whilst shooting daggers
of hailat the universe-cracked sidewalk.
Dylan Garcia
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Angry
Anna Rutenbeck
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 12
When you were angry, you created
one million tiny earthquakes, shaking
the house like nothing ever had
before. The aftershocks reverberated
from the basement to our bedroom
and sometimes I loved it when you
were angry. Loved how the plates
sounded crashing on the tile, loved how
everything was quiet when you were
done, loved how everything was perfect
in the moments after the storm because I
have always been in love with perfection
EVENIFITEXISTSFORONLYAMINUTE
Howling Owl
Ben Graham
Bridge School, Middlebury, Grade 3
A flying bee
Went in a tree
And caused an owl
Again to howl.
The owl thought
It could be caught
And the poor thing
Received a sting.
The first howl was caused, of course,
By a quite annoying horse.
The owl had two howls that day
And he said hed fly away.
Elise Schumacher
Essex High School, Grade 9
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In 10 Years
Zaley DeLeonardis-Page
Champlain Elementary School, Grade 4
)NYEARS)WILLHAVEANOWLTWOCATSTWODOGSANDFISH)WILLLIVEONAFARMIN6ERMONTANDHAVEBIGWOODSBEHINDMYHOUSEANDTAKEMYDOGSFORWALKSINTHE
woods, and at night, I will look at the stars in the fields. I will own a bakery. I will ski
at Bolton and be a ski instructor and I will write stories.
Sean Finnegan
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Hot Dogs, Stains, AndEverything Else That
Makes A Waterbury SpringEli Rivers
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 7
Spring comes to Waterbury and
the hot dog lady makes her specialty,
and
the stains on my Clyde Whittemore
Little League uniform show themselves
again.
Spring comes and
the sound of lawn mowers purrs again
and
bug spray stings your eyes again.
Spring comes and
THESOUNDhSPLASHvISACOMMONSOUND
at the Waterbury
2EZAGAIN
The smell of burgers on my dads grill
taunt me.
Spring comes andthe pop of my baseball bat rings in my
ear and
the feeling of walking into a cool hockey
rink after
playing in the hot air hits me again.
Spring comes and
I get to see my brother again after his
college year
and smell, taste, feel and sound
are what tells us it is
another Waterbury spring.
Mikayla Grace
Essex High School, Grade 10
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Teachings
Sophia Moore-Smith
Christ the King School, Grade 6
I was inspired by my fifth-grade soccer coach. He taught me to never give up andto keep trying even though I am tired. He really helped me to improve my soccer skills
and my life skills. I learned from him that it is okay not to be the best, but to always
try. I think that this is very important because people cannot be the best at everything
but should try to be the best at who they are.
In a way, he did not just teach me soccer skills, he taught me how to act around
OTHERS(ESAIDh!LWAYSBENICEANDCONGRATULATETHEOTHERTEAMWHETHERTHEYWIN
or lose, because you have to be kind to everyone. To me, this means that I have
to respect everyone, no matter what color their skin is, where they come from, or
anything like that. It is what is on the inside that really matters.
While my coach was teaching us soccer, he was also meaning to give us life
LESSONSSUCHASWHENHESAIDh'IRLSCOMEOVERHERE2EMEMBERWHEN)SAIDTOBE
nice to the players on the other team? Well, that applies in real life, too. You have to be
nice to everyone, no matter what they look like. Look for what is on the inside.
My fifth-grade soccer coach has inspired me to take an extra step and approach
the new kid, or to keep on trying, even when I am struggling. Thank you, Coach, for
inspiring me to keep on trying.
Frank PuleoEssex High School, Grade 11
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22
My Poetry Is Dead
Kyle Coburn
Chelsea Public School, Grade 10
I know this is selfishBut I have a problem of my own
It seems as though recently
I cannot write a poem
This year started out grand
I hit the ground running
"UTITSALLFIZZLEDOUT
Ive lost my wit and cunning
It was fun while it lasted
Now Im all washed up
For my short poetic career
I request we all raise a cup
My poetry is gone
It has abandoned my head
Though sometimes it sleepsThis time its dead
I try to write verse
And it comes out all wrong
If I cant write some lines
How will my poetry live on
I already said it once
The thought still tortures my head
I struggle to hold as it fades
My poetry is dead.
Zoe FrolikEssex High School, Grade 11
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23
Innocence
Luna Isham
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 8
In my arms
I hold
a life,
the steady rhythm of a heartbeat,
the rhythmic whispers of breath,
the wonder that lays his head upon my
lap.
I run my fingers through his hair.
He shifts slightly in his sleep,chocolate strands fall across his face.
He looks so peaceful
in contrast to his
waking self,
the turmoil I usually see in those soft
brown eyes.
With a jerk, he awakens;
he looks me in the eyes.
I see an innocence therethat quickly fades away.
Beauty
Tyler Harris
Burlington High School, Grade 9
Beauty comes with a story.
A person can have perfect hair,
perfect skin, perfect clothes
but their life has been handed to them.
Theyve known nothing but love.
Theyve worked for nothing,
wanted nothing,
because they have everything.
A person who has struggled has loved and lost
is someone who is beautiful,
someone who has worked
for what she has,
but still has nothing.
A woman who has been
to the depths of herself
is a woman who is truly beautiful.
Kayla Rideout
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Unspoken
Kyle Brown
Northfield High School, Grade 12
I didnt say goodbye. I couldnt. We were friends for such a long time, and during
that time it seemed like our friendship would never change we would always share abond. We hardly had to speak, we knew what each other was thinking.
It began very slowly, our growing apartand now when we talk, its about
unimportant things, talking the way I would talk to someone I just met on a bus just
sharing a laugh about whats going on in the moment.
Now we are both leaving, starting a new life chapter. To arrange to meet and say
goodbye would be awkward and so we dont. I silently wish him well, and I hope he
hears it.
Ashley Douglas
Essex High School, Grade 10
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At The Bus Stop
Sammy Storz
St. Johnsbury Academy, Grade 9
The homeless ladyat the bus stop,
who probably wasnt homeless,
thought I was homeless.
At least I
hoped
she wasnt homeless.
It gets cold
around here at night,BELOWON
occasion.
She was matronly
and old
and wore a
baby blue frock,
with a picture of
Eeyoreand the words
h/FTEN'RUMPYv
although her character said
differently.
She had a laughing face.
Creased.
Wise.
She saw me sitting there at the bus stop
smiled,
and sat down next to me.
She asked me if I had
eaten
at all today.
Concerned with mypersonal image,
and that of my family,
I said yes.
I wasnt homeless,
and I didnt want to
look
like I was.
Getting on the bus,
I noticed I was the only
child
there.
A couple sitting in the back,
looking wasted,
and a middle-aged man
with earphones
were the only ones on the bus.
I sat down on a torn seat
and the old woman
sat next to me.
She must have wanted to
protect me or
something.I think she was
SINCERELY
concerned.
About what I dont know,
but looking back on this a few
years later,
)REALIZE
how skinnyI mustve looked.
Walking past the bus stop the next day
I saw her,
and she was smiling;
again I didnt know why.
But I waved and walked in her
direction.
And she offered me a
sandwich.
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The End Of The World
Gwen Williams
Oxbow High School, Grade 11
h)SWEAR)WASGOINGTOGETTHEREONTIMEWHENALLOFASUDDENITWASTHEENDOFthe world, I said, exasperated.
My mom raised an eyebrow and looked at me over the rims of her glasses. She
SEEMEDSKEPTICALh'OONv
h9OUREALLYWANTMETO)TCOULDTAKEDAYSTODESCRIBEv
She crossed her arms and kept looking at me.
h&INEBUTYOUMIGHTWANTTOSITDOWNv
She did, and I moved to sit across from her at the small table on our porch.
h)TSTARTEDTHISMORNINGWHEN)WASGETTINGINTOMYCAR4HEREWERETINYREDDROPS
falling from dark clouds in the sky that I hadnt noticed before. They landed on my
windshield in little clusters and the wipers only smeared them.
h)COULDNTSEEATHINGBUT)DROVEWITHTHEWINDOWDOWNANDMADEITTOTHEEND
of our road, although I did almost hit a deer. Oh right, there were animals everywhere,
all going in the same direction as me, towards the river. There were bears with cats and
dogs riding on their backs and frogs riding on theirs. You should have seen them!
h7EREOURPETSTHERE$IDYOUSEEOURCHICKENSFLAPPINGALONGBEHINDYOURCARv
she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
h.O)DIDNTSEETHEM4HEYWEREPROBABLYSTUCKINTHEIRCOOPBECAUSEYOUALWAYS
forget to let them out on hot days. She glared at me.
h7ELLITSAGOODTHINGYOUDIDNTLETTHEMOUTTODAYBECAUSETHETEMPERATURE
DROPPEDTOBELOWZERO)THINK!LLTHEREDRAINFROZEANDGLITTERED"YTHETIME)GOTTO
the main road, it had stopped raining, but the stuff was everywhere. Some big truck
had gotten in an accident on the road up ahead; at least I thought it was a truck. I
GOTCLOSERANDPULLEDOVERTOHELPAND)REALIZEDITWASASMALLPLANE4HEPILOTWAS
standing there and he said he had lost all control of it. Other planes were going down
for no reason at
h.OONEWASHURTINTHEPLANECRASHv h.OTTHAT)COULDTELLBUTTHATWASBEFORETHECHASMOPENEDUP)TRIPPEDOPENTHE
road and pulled the wreckage of the plane down into it. My car was balanced on the
edge of one side and I didnt know what to do, but then I heard the pilot yell run! So
I did. You know how much I hate running, so I must have been really scared. There
were still all the other animals on the road, animals I didnt even know we had in
6ERMONTLIKECAMELSANDFLAMINGOS)TWASAREGULAR!NIMAL0LANETSTAMPEDE)SAWAN
elephant and jumped on its back, pulling the pilot up behind me.
h9OUJUMPEDUPONANELEPHANTv
h9ESITMUSTHAVEBEENTHEADRENALINEFROMTHESITUATION.OWSTOPINTERRUPTINGvMy mom leaned back in her chair.
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h3O)JUMPEDONTOTHEELEPHANTBUTITSTARTEDTORUNOFFOFTHEROAD4HEREWASA
big vine hanging from a tree and I grabbed it and swung and leapt onto a tree.
h9OUv
h.OMOREQUESTIONS4HEREWASLIGHTNINGANDITSTRUCKDOWNTHETREEBUT)COULD
suddenly fly. I guess that comes along with the end of the world. h)VEHEARDENOUGHv
h"UT)MNOTDONEv
h!LLOFTHATREALLYHAPPENED4HATWASTHEREASONYOUWEREMINUTESLATEFOR
school? My mom unfolded her arms and set her hands on her lap.
h9ESv)NODDEDMYHEAD
h3OMETIMES)WISHTHESCHOOLDIDNTCALLABOUTTHESETHINGSvSHELAUGHEDh'ODO
your homework. She started to go into the house.
h)LOSTITv)SAIDTOTHEGROUND
h(OWv3HETURNED h7ELLv
Alex Day
Essex High School, Grade 10
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28
Wonderland
Jessica Austin
Essex High School, Grade 11
Sugar and milk, he says,Sugar and milk.
Theres grass on the floor, he says,
Covered in silk.
But the moon in the night, he says,
Wouldnt be so
if the girls here on Earth
all wore the same bow.
Look to the west, he says,
Look to the west.
Theres no one to see, he says,
Why look your best?
Sugar and milk, he says,
are the color of snow,
but little girls like you
shouldnt wear the same bow.
He says, Ive sat on grass
much greener than this,
and Ive seen the night
much brighter than this.
He says, the west wasnt won
based on the color of ones fur,
and the way that you dress
shouldnt just be for her.
You are sugar and milk, he says,
Sugar and milk.
And there are girls just like you, he says,On grasses of silk.
And if their bows are like yours, he says,
Are you like the rest?
Look to the west, he says,
Look to the west.
Fourth Of July
Samantha Masse
Benson Village School, Grade 8
Sitting in the hot sunOn a nice summer day
Waiting for
The vivid stars to come out
Of the black shadowy
Night.
The bright colorful lights
That fill up the sky
Remind me of
That dance that day
When I didnt want
the night to end.
And the crackling
And popping
Sound of the fireworks
Is like the sound of
4HEWOODSIN6ERMONT
During hunting season,
The fireworks
Soaring by the moon
Like a bird looking down
At his prey.
As I listen and watch,
The memories of the past
Float through my head.
4HESEDAZZLINGSHAPES
Form in the skyOn every Fourth of July
And I wonder why
I was so afraid
Of fireworks.
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Orange Peel Smiles And Banana Phone Calls
Mugdha Gurram
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 7
Laura loved fruits. She loved lots of things. Flowers, animals, television (especiallyCARTOONS"UTSHEREALLYLOVEDFRUITS3HELOVEDGIVINGORANGEPEELSMILESESPECIALLYFOR
the camera that her mom would hover over her with. She loved to call her mom on
her banana phone. They would play catch with apples.
,AURAGREWUPTOBE3HESTILLLOVEDFLOWERSANIMALSANDTELEVISION!ND
SHESTILLLOVEDFRUITS"UTTHEREWERENOLONGERANYSMILESORCALLS4HATWASNThCOOLv
anymore. Nowadays when she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on their coffee
table, she didnt beg her mom to play catch with her, like she used to. She simply ate it.
Lauras mother missed her little girl. She still loved the girl who now gobbled a
banana down in two seconds, but she missed the child who thought her mother was
the coolest person ever.
Lauras mother soon became weak with skin cancer. It devastated the whole
family. She soon became too sick to even leave the hospital. They brought stuffed
animals, photos, home movies, anything they thought would make her happy. But she
wasnt. She smiled weakly when they visited, but there was no twinkle in her eye. It
overwhelmed Laura. This was her mother, her idol, the one who was always there for
her, lying in bed, slowly and painfully dying.
In the hospital, one day, she sat by her mothers bedside, trying her hardest not to
CRYHOMEVIDEOSONTHE464HEVIDEOPLAYINGWASONEOFHERCALLINGHERMOTHERON
a banana. She looked back at her mother in present day and she was smiling. A real
smile. With a spark of emotion in her eyes. This excited Laura.
She took an orange slice, stuffed it in her mouth, and smiled. Her mother was
laughing! It was raspy, but it was a laugh. Her mom raised a trembling arm, and Laura
gently placed a slice in her moms mouth. Day after day, they played these games.
Every day until her mother died.
There were tears, lots of them. There was sadness and remorse. But there was
comfort in fruits. In orange peel smiles and banana phone calls.
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Rachel
Jonathan Zacharias
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 7
My sister Rachel has something about her that makes everyone around her enjoy
her company. I think that it might be her loyalty. She has always been there for me
in everything. She is behind me when I need her most. Theres no better feeling than
seeing someone you love look out for you and stand up for you. If I was picked on as
a kid, they were suddenly someone that my sister despised more than I did. It might bea bad thing, but she would hold on to grudges longer than me as well. It doesnt feel
like a bad thing when shes standing up for me, though. She doesnt do it because shes
expecting something; she does it because that is what she feels is right. My hope is that
she feels the same way about how I act towards her now that I am growing up. I hope
I can carry on the loyalty given to me by her, to all of my friends and family. Rachel
has been influential in ways that I dont even think she knows. Her loyalty, that is just
second nature for her, that she shrugs off like its nothing, is the same loyalty that I will
remember forever.
Kelsea Battig
Essex High School, Grade 12
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Dissonance
Abigail Rampone
Fair Haven Union High School, Grade 11
Theres nothing wrong with a littledissonance,
rasped wrecked throats sandpapering
ghost
songs that break necessary glass bottles
like
splatted spiders underfoot on the streets,
run flat and ground in by the cars,
FOSSILIZEDINTOTHEPAVEMENTSMADETO
bend and break like Jacob Marleys
miserly Christmas hymns, because he
paid with all his money. Theres nothing
wrong with
violins with the tuning pegs screwed off,
screwed screwed screwed tangled bent
strings in a tumbleweed nest, rolling
down the perfect
plastic shopping aisle and grabbing for
the cereal with
wire octopus hands.
Theres nothing wrong with a little
dissonance, banged-up broken-up
hammered-up smashed organ strings
still singing underfoot like
the fault lines placed a call
and ordered something shook-up
and off-kilter and surreal. Letslet our skies be run by mixed-up music
and plate tectonics.
And It All Just Looks TheSame
Colleen Knowles
Proctor Jr.-Sr. High School, Grade 12
The sound the key made in the lock
echoed through our plastic house,
shaking plastic cuckoo clocks
and startling the plastic mouse.
It bounced off plastic ceilings, floors,
and windows out the plastic door.
It echoed many times, and more,
then finally, it stopped.
But everyone had heard the noise.
The plastic town had felt it roll,
and all the plastic girls and boys
had hurried home already, so
we didnt try to hide it then
from plastic mice or plastic men,
BUTNOONEPLASTICCRIEDh!GAINv
when finally, it stopped.
Youll never find a harder place
where heartbreak never comes to die,
cause plastics harder than they say.
They say it bends it wont, so I
am leaving this old plastic town
where smiles mean as much as frowns.
Plastic hurts, but melt it down,
and finally, it stops.
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32
The Best Aroma
Heidi Ambrozaitis
Benson Village School, Grade 8
Im sitting outside my housejust taking it all in,
with the birds chirping,
the bright sun shining down on me,
my calves running round and round,
tangling me up with their halters,
my dad in the field bailing hay,
and the smell is better
than a freshly baked apple pie in the
oven,
my mom coming outside
with dads lunch in hand,
running through the lawn to catch him
before he starts another lap,
looking over to see my brother
getting ready to mow the lawn,
my other brother working on his four-
wheeler,
my sisters always doing their chores.
It just makes me feel at home
to have the smell of farming
surround me.
Its like a huge pillow
that comforts me whenever I need it.
Its just something that I cant carry with
me
but that is why its my favoriteand why it comforts me
because the only way I can feel
comfortable
is being at home
where I grew up and where I love.
Electronics Taking Over
Jenna Flint
Rice Memorial High School, Grade 9
Theyre seducing our brainsand rattling them like chains,
not having us think,
showing us everything we need before
we can blink,
encyclopedias, dictionaries, bibliography
makers, spell check
crashing our teens like a fast train wreck!
No longer knowing how to spell or use
a book,
just turn your electronics on and look!
Kids talking on phones? No!
They put on a show,
texting and instant messaging
Facebook, Twitter, Myspace!
In school in which they no longer ace!
Heads glued to the screen,
no longer lean!
&ATANDLAZY
YOUDTHINK)MGOINGCRAZY
Cellphones, laptops, Game Boys,
all these electronic toys.
Whats going on?
No longer do we take a walk at dawn.
No more family time,
just these innocent crimes.
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33
Heaven
Sara Swartz
Mount Holly Elementary School, Grade 4
If I could visit Heaven,Its where Id like to be.
The streets are made of gold;
Its what I have been told.
If only for a minute,
Imagine what I would see.
Id be greeted at the gate,
Where there would be no hate,
Only peace and joy,
And a very special little boy,
My brother, Christopher.
Ill see him one day in Heaven,
Even if Im one hundred and seven.
My Neighbors Flat Pet
Delaney Brunvand
Shelburne Community School, Grade 4
I am full of so much regret,For I flattened my neighbors chubby pet.
He perched there on the bed
And I sat on him.
He was fantastically fluffy like a white
cloud,
A white cloud, not a cloud the color of
lead
5NTIL)FLATTENEDHIM
After I sat on him,
Oh, how flat was his head.
McKenzie Silk
Essex High School, Grade 10
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Cemetery Dance
Holly Sherrer
St. Albans Town Educational Center, Grade 8
I met Emily Bronte walking in the graveyard near her house on a night so still, noteven the clouds dared move. The blackened sky, a web of charcoal, pressed down on
me as I lumbered around the cobblestones, panting heavily in the bitter air. My breath
puffed out in front of me, pillars of steam twisting up towards the sky until they, too,
were dragged into the emptiness of the dark. It was a horrid night to be walking, but
I was determined to clear my mind and my conscience, and start with a blank slate in
the morning.
The girl in the cemetery was such an odd sight that I almost believed myself to be
hallucinating. Despite the frigid temperature, she wore only a flouncy skirt and blouse,
bleached to grey by the dim moonlight. She twirled among the stones, occasionally
MISSTEPPINGANDFALLINGTOTHEGROUNDONLYTORECOVERAPOLOGIZETOTHE%ARTHITSELF
ANDCONTINUEON)WASMESMERIZEDSHECAPTIVATEDTHEATTENTIONOFEVERYTHINGnLIVING
dead, or inanimate and together we watched her.
!NDTHATSWHEN)REALIZED3HEWASNTDEFYINGTHESTILLNESSOFTHENIGHT4HENIGHT
was still because of her.
Tentatively, I stepped through the wrought-iron gate, and it creaked with a low
moan. I was sure the sound would destroy the magic of the moment, but it only
enhanced it, echoing in a thousand voices around me, overlapping in beautiful
melodies. She smiled, and slowed the tempo of her dance to match the repeating
sound.
My heart was battling with my mind. I so wanted to go up to her, to ask her why
she danced, to ask her why she wasnt afraid, but something inside me said I wouldnt
understand the answers. Something inside me kept me silent. I was caught in an
impossible tangle of logic, of mystery and confusion, and it was threatening to overtake
me.
h0LEASEJUSTTELLMEYOURNAMEv)CALLEDOUTANDMYVOICEADDEDANUNWANTED
minor key to the perfect music.She looked up, not startled, but not happy. Slowly she turned, and the magic
stopped.
h%MILYvSHEMURMUREDh%MILY"RONTEv
She took off running, disappearing away into the infinite darkness. The world held
its silence only a moment longer before the stillness broke and life continued. I, too,
carried on with my walk, and the girl in the cemetery was all but forgotten.
The dance was done.
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I Feel
Eva Edwards-Stoll
Edmunds Middle School, Grade 6
It makes me feel so angry,so upset.
How people think how people are.
They think how Charlie is;
how he is dumb.
He has this operation
and he gets a little smart
and he gets a lot smart
and he gets really, really smart
and then he deteriorates
into the man he was before.
I feel like Charlie should be dumb
because that is who he is.
I feel a strong connection with him.
"ECAUSEOFTHETIME)FEELLIKEHIM
plain old dumb.
When Charlie was dumb, he depended
on other people,
but he was kinder.
)LIKEHOWHEREALIZEDPEOPLEWERE
treating him poorlyand he quit his job because of it.
He had a lot of dignity, then,
when he was dumb.
If you have a disability,
like Charlie or me,
people should help you,
people should understand you and value
you.
And not just think that you are less thanthem.
And not just think that you
are plain old dumb.
Because inside, you are not dumb.
You are this miraculous piece of nature.
Melanie Lopato
Essex High School, Grade 9
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My Town
Lily Weissgold
Edmunds Middle School, Grade 8
One word?Hipsters.
They come out at night
with eyes open wide.
They fill the coffee shops,
fedora brims pulled down,
gripping the dregs of the night
like the coffee, long gone
from their mugs.
One word?
Historic.
'IANT6ICTORIANSLOOM
on streets sprinkled with oaks;
brass plaques on the door
READ
Conjuring a picture of old men,
pipes hanging out of
bearded mouths.
One word?
Rainy.
More often than not
I arrive at my house,
the hem of my pants
soaked through,
dripping water onto the mudroom floor,
turning the linoleum the color of the sky.
One word?Green.
Come spring, the sky
turns a brilliant blue
and the tree tops
open their green to the sky.
Crocuses peeking purple eyes
from little leaves
let the world know
life is new.One word?
Home.
And although I am not a night owl
or a historian
or a rain-lover
or a tall, tall tree,
or a little amethyst flower,this is my home and I am staying put.
For now.
Someones Frozen Tears
Michelle Fenimore
North Country Union High School, Grade 9
I hold my breath and observe as delicate
minuscule tears fall from the sky
5NSUREFROMWHOSEEYESTHEYAREFALLING
We become intrigued and want to know
why they fall
Why they do what they do
And why does there have to be a
consequence for something so gracious
Something so overwhelming to
understand
Why do we have to solidify from the
frigid winters tears
They are troublesome, but far more
advanced than our knowledge
They fall almost slower than imagined
possibleStacking on top of each other
One by one by one
They are resting and look almost unseen
One polar mouth full of these skies
crystals
Contains more than we will ever
understand
We sit as night stumbles onAnd we watch the falling snow as it
glimmers in the moonlight
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38
Shooting Star
McKenzie Apjohn
Benson Village School, Grade 8
I can hear the soft green grass wavingaround a few yards behind my head
like the legs of a jellyfish would wiggle
deep down under the ocean
that my cotton-candy pink toes are
swimming in.
The wind softly blows throughout my
now messy dirty blond hair,
making it swirl around my head like a
tornado,
my very own tornado,
with only me
in the middle,
in my own little world.
Daydreaming
about all the things I wish could happen,
I feel the packed wet sand
underneath my purple tank top and
ZEBRASTRIPEPAJAMAPANTS
It fits to my body perfectly,
like a snow angel surrounding me,
made of freshly packed snow.
I can smell the salt lingering above the
sea,
threatening to take over my body,
like the waves are starting to take over
the fluffy dry sandas they crash further and further into the
shore.
I slowly start to wake up from my
dream.
I feel the water creeping further up my
legs
ANDREALIZE)NEEDTOGOBACKHOMESOON
I look deep
into the seemingly endless black sky.
The stars twinkle brightly back at me
as if trying to make out a picture
or tell me something.Neither happens, though.
But as I lay there, wondering,
what else is beyond those stars,
I catch a quick glimpse of something
moving.
A shooting star!
I watch it closely
and smile to myself,
knowing I have one wish.I close my eyes
and think in my head,
if only, if only,
I could stay here forever
ANDNEVERHAVETOGOBACKTOMYCRAZY
life.
The drama at school,
all the pressure at home,
and all the worry about high school
because that will be the next step for me.
Here I have no problems.
This place seems like a dream
and I want to stay here
forever.
If only wishes came true.
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My Love, My Star
Cherish Amanda Greene
Chelsea Public School, Grade 11
On wings of stars I found youDescending from the skies.
I knew that you were perfect
With one look in your eyes.
No one I have ever known
Is anything like you.
As long as you are near me, love,
Theres nothing I cant do.
Heaven-born, Earth-bound,
My heart youve always owned.
Constantly, repeatedly,
Your magic brings me home.
We dance among the comets,
Blow kisses to the moon;
You know I dont care where we are
As long as Im with you.
We journey far beyond all time,
Beyond all pain and tears.
Wrapped in your so loving armsI lose all sense of fear.
You whisper perfect songs to me
When I am sad and lost.
Your voice brings smiles to my face
Your sunshine melts my frost.
Your eyes contain the oceans depths,
And shine like stolen stars,
Your hands have power in their touch,
And break my prisons bars.You set me free, then make me yours,
Through time and space we sway.
My love, my star, you make me whole,
And thats how it should stay.
Ashley Douglas
Essex High School, Grade 10
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Dreams
Phoebe Tucker
Black River High School, Grade 11
Trampled wildflowers cried at their feet,besotted, anguished, lost in the heat,
the dandelion crown, the mint julep
bouquet,
like a crying child, or a wandering stray.
Many walked by, yet nobody cared.
They didnt know the rose or the
raindrops shared,
when one little person, a girl about three,
stopped to take a rest by the old oak tree.
She noticed the flowers, all dried up and
torn,
picked up the crown that someone had
worn,
said my, wouldnt this look good on my
head,
rather there, than lying here dead?
She thought its friends would like to
come too,
so she freed her feet and collected the
flowers in her shoe,
skipped carelessly along down the old
dirt road,
ran through the field that nobody
mowed,
finally stopped at her fort by the stream,
and tossed the flowers in,each one for a dream.
Fallen Is The Shade OfViolet
Alyx Sellars
Peoples Academy, Grade 12
My feet mark the night,
And fallen is the shade of violet.
Enlightened by the moon,
They whisper the harmonious songs of
cherry blossoms,
And a sweet, yet musky smell of
unearthed ground has sprung.
As the ravens feather falls and marks the
clearing,
The grass is free, a deep burgundy of the
past.
The lush blanket of the forests breath
has yet to return.
But the wash of snowflakes has scattered
with the warm embrace.
And here the evening brings the change,
And the path that follows, leaving
footsteps behind,
Lingering in the past.
Because as the seasons alter into a
contortion of birth,
My life flutters like the wings of the moth
that has milk-colored wings,
And glitter falls as it flies.
Decisions are made, and I walk with a
fresh mind,
Like spring, like the dawn.
But at the moment I am in that inexplicit
hanging moment,
Between one action and another.
And with every step that falls,
My feet mark the night.
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Candy Hair
Joey Gloss
Shrewsbury Mountain School, Grade 5
There was something strange about our new teacher, Mr. Smith; he had cotton
candy growing from his scalp. His tasty locks were pink like a flamingo and blue like a
whale patterned with swirls, and styled like an afro. Clusters of hair were growing out
his ears and nose like plants sprouting out of the ground. Every time he was hungry,
he would pluck a piece of his hair and stuff a clump in his mouth. This made him looklike a chipmunk for a brief amount of time. Each time after he ate, scraps of cotton
candy stuck on his face like stubble.
When his cotton candy stubble appeared, half of the class would laugh at him; the
other half of the class was revolted. You would always find at least one student staring
at him like he was strange. Personally, I started to feel nauseous whenever I would see
his face. I would turn around to face the wall to find comfort. Thats about the same
time Mr. Smith would rush out the door sobbing. I started to feel badly for him, but I
knew that tomorrow was going to be the same routine all over again.
Zoe Frolik
Essex High School, Grade 11
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I Am Poetry
Olivia Pintair
Lake Champlain Waldorf School, Grade 6
I am poetry.
I am a thief I steal your attention.
I seep through the cracksof your heart,
forming thoughts
you cannot dominate.
I am creator of your dreams
and keeper of your soul.
I am a depressed soul
when I long for emotion.
I am a lions soul
when I feel strong.
I am your soul
because I am a listener.
I hear the energy of the world around
me
that inspires me to be all I am.
I am poetry.
Hear my voice.
I am more real than
you.
Tayler Stutzman
Essex High School, Grade 9
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Solitaire
Julia Hancock-Song
Pacem Learning Center, Grade 10
Somewhere out along the linesof the universe and curves of time,
amidst dusty scattered skulls and spines,
I seem to have lost a friend of mine.
I dropped her at her destination
(shed long been bound for other
NATIONS
but by our arranged visitation,
she was not done with exploration.
The first sister I could have kept
when we parted ways, I think she wept.
But by her choice, as New England slept,
she left, to freer lives accept.
I promised that when she came back,
no bonds of friendship would have
snapped.
I told her I would stay in touch;
she said shed miss me very much.
And now, somewhere beneath my pride,
I wonder if we both had lied,
for neither wrote or spoke or tried
to cast our bottles on the tide.
I wait for us to realign
among the cogs and wheels of time;
I hope to God she has not metthe lines that my life overstepped.
I wonder, now, what foreign air
blows through her game of solitaire;
and was it she or I that despaired
of finding the other
anywhere?
Monica Keithcart
Essex High School, Grade 12
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What Makes Up Dreams
Chiara Evans
Colchester High School, Grade 11
Conglomerate messages wound up in the
days thoughts
A simple process of untying your own
knots
The best objects of your desire
A wish for something better
A touch of love
A tear shed for something gone wrong
Allow yourself to take a journey into
your own mind
Look at yourself through your own eyes
And see what others see
Go floating through your scatterbrains
And dont let anyone take away your
childish wonder
The best entertainment is one you make
Wrapped up in memories and wishes
To go far away
To have something newOr just a better life one day
Dreams fulfill us and take us through
sleep
Seemingly short but ever so long
Conscious but unconscious you sleep
While being carried off farther and
farther
Dont get lost
Dreams will haunt you, make you laughDreams will love you, and send tears to
your eyes
But you have to remember not to get
caught
Hold on to reality
Because dreams are just your brain
Figuring things out.
Kevin Huang
Edmunds Middle School, Grade 8
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Tinmouth Pond
Gregory Eaton
Mount Holly Elementary School, Grade 4
My favorite place to beIs on the ice. I am free!
Free of working with my brother,
Free of listening to my mother.
At Tinmouth Pond I catch many fish;
At home they make a yummy dish.
My shanty there is nice and warm.
It keeps me out of every storm!
Garden Ghosts
Abhi Dodgson
Homeschool, South Hero, Grade 4
The wind chimes are chiming,the lake is shining and
the sun is peeking through a cloud.
The ghosts that dance in the
garden rise up and
become the clouds
that sit atop the sky,
and when its time for the ghosts to
come down, they gracefully
fly back to their little
home in the flowers and
then it happens
all over
again.
Grace Palker
Essex High School, Grade 10
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They Used To Dance
Izzy Moody
Mount Abraham Union High School, Grade 9
For so long, the words wouldtango,
WALTZ
pirouette
straight from my mind
through my fingers
excitedly
onto the paper,
barely contained
by those parallel blue lines.
Now the words stumble.
Confused, they have trouble
even walking now,
let alone grapevine.
I imagine them getting lost
within me,
bumping against the walls ofmy head,
my chest,
like the lights are turned off,
but they arent.
When they do find their way
through that labyrinth,THATMAZE
they emerge as alphabet soup,
jargon
completely and utterly
wrong.
Ive tried to close
my eyes and reach
inside,
tried to pull off their
blindfolds
and push them,
shove them,
drag the words
with my pointer finger
in the right direction.
But they dont seem to
respond.
Maybe I should try
dance lessons.
Luke Beard
Essex High School, Grade 12
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How Do Colors Make YouFeel
Caroline Johnson
The Renaissance School, Grade 4
Red makes me feel like a tigers tongue.
Green makes me feel sick.
Purple makes me feel calm like a snail.
Grey makes me feel bored like a day
when you are sick.Black makes me feel dark like the sky in
the night.
"LUEMAKESMEFEELWOOZYLIKE
daydreaming.
Orange makes me feel squishy like a
squished orange.
Yellow makes me feel warm like the sun
shining on my face.
Sounds Of FallZani Lewis
Homeschool, Burlington, Grade 3
The whispering wind pushed my hair
like a tornado
And the dead orange, yellow and red
leaves spun around me like a whirlpool.
The birds flew and chirped, heading
south.The red squirrels gathered nuts and
chattered noisily.
The ants silently marched with food to
their nest.
The clouds were heavenly white and the
sky was streaked with blue.
The sounds of fall are beautiful!
Rae Merrill
Randolph Union High School, Grade 12
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Born Into This World
Frida Rosner
Marlboro Elementary School, Grade 5
Born into this world,
everyone has a pure, white feather
resting upon their heart,
a golden sun above them
and an eagle spirit hovering nearby.
But theres always a black puddle of
worry
lying at their feet.
Somehow the darkness lures all.
Keep your feathers clean.
Keep the sun shining above you.
Save your guardian eagle.
Then you will learn to turn your back
on that puddle of worry.
Do You Know?
Alexandra Contreras-Montesano
Champlain Elementary School, Grade 5
Do you know what makes the wind the
sweet, sweeping sound that reassures us
that there is air to breathe?
I know what makes the wind blow so.
Tis you who makes it flow.
Do you know what makes the berries
ripe with juice and raw newborn color?
I know what makes the berries ripe.
Tis you, tis you who makes the flavor
burst.
Do you know what makes my life so
sweet with bursts of small delight?
I know! I know!
Tis you, tis you.
I know it is.
Mikayla Grace
Essex High School, Grade 10
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Aria
Zoe Soule
Leland and Gray Union High School, Grade 10
Faint.Gentle.
Sweet.
The notes fill the air,
tip-toeing upon ears with exaggerated
steps,
soothing and airy,
a fairy breathing her secret lightly into
an ear.
The melody takes reign, adopting a well-
remembered theme,
forgettably named, yet lyrically catchy.
See them flitting about?
Soaring skyward, whirling joyfully.
The triplet sails by, flying ever higher.
The low B flat thunders on the ground,
content to stay in familiar territory.
Their colors permeate the world around,
an incandescent glow of candlelight,
familiar and exciting all at once.
Suddenly, the climax reaches the peak
and the world tilts and changes to a
shimmering silver and gold.
With a final flourish, the refrain ends,
and with that, the decrescendo takes up
its long trot.
The last notes are weary and regretful,disappointed children who want the day
to never end.
The light loses its desire to shine.
The final note comes to a rest, a perfect
chord, fittingly melancholic.
Perhaps some might be left wanting
more;
More excitement, more complication.
However, the simplicity is what makes itperfect.
A lasting memory of indescribable magic
that lingers on your mind, tingles in your
fingers, and dances on your tongue.
Its gone too soon, but hasnt
disappeared too far.Remaining locked in your mind,
ready at the call to march its way out
with a smile and dramatics.
In a moment of darkness and loss, it
enters.
With a hum, the first few notes begin:
Faint.
Gentle.
Sweet.
Fighting The Tides
Sarah Wells
U-32 High School, Grade 11
Even during their youth they were old.
Two old souls drifting through the
turbulence of growing up
and into each others arms.
An old man regarding his wife with all
the love in the world.
And an old woman, looking at her
husband like all the stars in the sky.
Time came and went,
but they never strayed from each other.
There was nowhere left for them to go
when all they ever needed
was with the other.
Alone on a sandy beach, two chairs sit
stoically as the waves approach,
neither minding the impending crisis,
not as long as theyre side by side.
The chairs of the couple,
who sit on them to watch the sunset,
forever together against the rolling tide ofchange.
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The Lonely Fish
Emily Aldrich
Monkton Central School, Grade 6
Im a lonely fish. That may sound weird, but the most fun Ive ever had is whenmy owner accidentally tipped me over in my plastic bag as she was bringing me home
from the fair. All I do now is sit here. Sometimes Ill hide in my obviously fake log, but
otherwise, there isnt much to do.
As my owner walks in the room, she carries a bag of colors like pink and orange
on her back.
h(EY0ETUNIAvSHESAYSANDHURRIESOVERTOMYDISH)DONTGETWHYSHECALLS
me that. Im a goldfish, not a flower. My owner plants her face onto the side of the
DISHANDSTARTSMAKINGNOISES)VENEVEREVENHEARDLIKEhHEYFISHYFISHYMWAMWA
mwa, come here, boy, come here! Aww, do-be, do-be-do. I swim over to my log so
that shell go away, but she doesnt; she just stays there, watching me, which is kind of
creepy.
h#OMEON0ETUNIAvSHESAYSREACHINGHERHANDINTOTHEBOWL)JUMPOUTOFMY
log and make sure that five-finned thingy doesnt touch me. My owner starts laughing
ANDDOESITAGAINLIKESHESTRYINGTOGRABME4HISGOESONFORMORESECONDSAND
then my masters master walks in.
h+ELSEY7HATAREYOUDOINGWITHTHATPOORFISHvSHESHOUTS3OMYOWNERS
name is Kelsey.
h"UT-OM0ETUNIAWOULDNTDOANYTHINGv+ELSEYTALKSBACKTOHERMOM
APPARENTLY(ERMOMSCOLDSHERANDSHEENDSUPSITTINGONTHEBEDCRYING3HE
moves her hands away from her eyes and looks at me, and then scoots closer to my
bowl.
h9OUARETHEWORSTFISHEVERv+ELSEYSAYSANDTIPSOVERMYBOWL)GOTUMBLING
DOWNWITHWATERSPLASHINGEVERYWHEREONMETHEDRESSERWHERE)WASATANDTHE
CARPETWHICHISWHERE)MHEADING
Glass breaks and I keep falling. Once I hit the floor, I feel wetness, but it is
escaping. The water is going down through a trap door in the ground that is too smallfor me.Let me down! Let me down! I shout as I flop up and down. Kelseys mom comes in.
h+ELSEY7HATON%ARTHv)STHELASTTHING)HEARD
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Winter Beauty
Oscar Downing
Ferrisburgh Central School, Grade 3
On the chair lift,Rocking
In
The wind,
I see
Sparkling
Snow on
The trees,
Shining
In the sun,
The forest
Towering
Like
A crystal fortress,
Glinting
Against
The bright
Blue
Sky.
The swish!
Of skiers
Far beneath my feet,
The humming
Of the lift
And the whooshing wind
Against my face
Like an icy whip.This is
What makes winter
So
Beautiful.
Close Enough To Touch
Gabriello Lewis
Homeschool, Burlington, Grade 6
Diving, swooping, and flying aroundme,
They are so close
I can feel the wind from their wings,
Blowing my hair across my face.
Their extended talons flash in the
sunlight,
Momentarily blinding me.
Suddenly I hear a crash,
Followed soon after by a loud piercing
cry
To fellow captives.
I look up and see that he has flown
Right into the wire mesh above me.
I drop the dead rat I was about to set
down on the perch,
As my mentor, too, looks
And then goes back to putting food on
the perches.
Yet I continue to stare,
Transfixed by the majestic sight.
The sunlight filters through his wings
As if hes a messenger of God.
As I walk out of the aviary,
I watch my favorite hawk fly by,
Close enough to touch.
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Two Lonely Chairs
Paige Thibault
Charlotte Central School, Grade 5
If you goThrough the trees
Into the forest
Where all of the leaves
Hide you from the sky
And the sky is not seen,
You will find
A clearing.
Go to your left;
Turning right is not the way.
Follow the path
That winds back and forth,
5PHILLSANDDOWN
3TOPWITHINPACESANDHEADTOWARDS
The sunflower faces,
5PPILESOFGREYROCK
And sloping fields.
Keep on going,
But then yield
When you come
To the ocean shore,
Soft sand
underfoot,
Some rough seaweed
Left behind
From the waves
That sweep and twine,Most rough seashells
Washed away.
There is something odd
I see today.
Two lonely chairs
Rest on the shore,
Facing the sea.
I sit down
On one of those two chairs,
Wondering why
They are there.
Soft cushion,Dusted with sand.
Memories that are not mine,
Flash through my head:
A dog and a sailor,
Husband and wife,
Child with child.
Many have sat here.
A feeling of peace settles
Somewhere deep inside of me.I sit there and watch
The waves that rock back and forth
And dance to the tide
Like it is a song.
I want to stay,
But the sky is dark,
So I return home.
I get up and walk
On the soft sand that is underfoot.
I know I will return
To those lonely two chairs
That hold their own story
That sit by the sea.
Those chairs are now special to me.
And I walk back the way I came,
As happy and as peaceful as could be.
When I reach home,
Though out of reach,
I will always remember those two chairs
That sit all alone
On that very beach.
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Two Coyotes In The Yard
Rebecca Valley
Bellows Free Academy St. Albans, Grade 12
Ive got a loneliness that I pray tothat has your green eyes and my soul.
Ian, there are coyotes in the yard now
and when I called you,
you spoke to them,
told them that I am very frightened
of their blackness, their eyes in the night.
She is, you said, blind right now.
She cannot see you. If you come into the
moonlight
she will know your soul
and she will not be so afraid.
And we stood at the back window
and watched them stand still, hundreds
of feet,
merely, of separation a greyness in the
night
and lift their heads, the pair, and howl
one after the other.
It is about speaking the same tongue,
you said.
And I told you that fleeting love
has too many words, and not enough,and that it outlines itself along the spine,
see, and you can hear it in her howl
in the night,
in the way that she calls back to him
from across the broad lawn
AFRAIDOFANECHOBACKTHATSAYSh)AM
farther away than you thought, darling,
or worse, her own voice, empty,
only one pair of tracks.
Nothings Changed, ButEverything Has
Jonathan Merchant
Peoples Academy/GMTCC, Grade 10
Feels almost too weird, like a dream
playing out in reality
Nothings changed, but at the same
moment, everything has
/NEDAYITSSTARTINGOUTSAYINGhHIv
Just meeting you, not knowing who you
were, but fancied to know you
Having you as my friend is all its been
3TILLSAYINGhHIvBUTADDINGINAhHEYv
ANDhHOWAREYOUvONCEINAWHILE
Still nothings changed, yet same breath,
everything has
About a year down the road, still saying
hHIvSTILLSAYINGhHEYvANDhHOWAREYOUv
But now theres a hug, a high five and
lots of smiles
Ive gotten to know you more, but
NONETHELESSSTILLSAYINGhHIv
Nothings changed, but everything has
Two more years have passed
3TILLSAYhHIvSTILLSAYhHEYvANDhHOWARE
you, still giving hugs, high fives and
smiles
But now Im sitting next to you on the
couch, with fingers interlocked, holding
your hand
Nothings changed, all the while,
everything has
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The Rains Came
Quincy Alves
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 8
The rains came and didnt stop.The Winooski filled up in the blink of an
eye.
Soon enough there was no place left for
the water to go.
The water rushed into Waterbury like it
owned the place,
leaving everything destroyed in its path.
The next morning was a Monday,
a Monday that will always be burned in
my brain.
Driving through the village,
I felt like I had to pick my jaw off the
ground
after I saw the damage it did to our
town.
I didnt just see damage though;
I saw hope.
Our community rallied.
/URCOMMUNITYMADEMEREALIZE)WAS
proud to live there.
Irene made me stop and think about
how lucky I am.
Silly Scared Little Me...
Katrina Strout
Cornish Elementary School, Grade 8
All alone in my house,nobody near.
The quiet lingers
and tells me to fear.
Jumping left and twitching right
at a contrary sound
or an intricate sight.
The look on my face,
an inscrutable one,
When the basement door opens
-YFIRSTTHOUGHTIS25.
"UTTHERE)SITFROZENASICE
Maybe its a ghost
and perhaps he is nice.
But I am in for a shock
as I step real close,
for its only a mouse
and not a ghost.
Now I sit; Im such a fool.
But the air around me
feels unusually cool...
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On The Hill
Charles Myers
Edmunds Middle School, Grade 8
This poem was written in memory of Charlesclose friend and classmate, Bentley Davis Seifer,
who died at age 12 in a swimming accident at
Bolton potholes on July 12, 2011.
Once in a while I have a day when I
cannot feel anything but pain and grief.
I walk to the park and sit on the hill
where I used to play.
I wish to have one more day to play in
the snow and make forts in the woods.
I eat my favorite foods and watch as the
sun shines brightly upon my face.
I listen to the wind, hoping to hear his
voice one last time, but it never comes.
I cry and lay there on the hill most of
the day. I try to remember, I try to bring
SOMETHINGBACK4HEN)REALIZETHATIT
will not come back. I know I can still
remember.
Something about that hill, with the sun
on my face and the wind going through
my hair, gives me comfort.
It makes me feel as though he is still
here, playing with me, like he always did.
Once I open my eyes and come back to
reality, the feeling goes away, and I am
left alone, sitting on the hill where I used
to play.
I wipe the tears from my face and slowly
walk home with a blank expression.
Once I get there, I lie in my bed, knowing
another day will come when I can feel
nothing but pain and grief.I will wait to sit upon the hill where I
used to play once again.
If Only
Miriasha Borsykowsky
Burlington High School, Grade 10
If not by chance and not by spite,
How can our words make blows?
Intentions are the secret;
Theyre the knowledge no one knows.
Would it be better
If your thoughts were mine,
And mine belonged to you?
If we could think for each other,
Would we be kinder,Know the truth?
If we could feel what others do,
Their desires and their fears,
Maybe then wed win the war
Weve been fighting all these years,
The war thats waged against ourselves,
Our assumptions and ideals.
If only we saw the other side,
No child
Would drown
In tears.
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Legs In The Sand
Kay Bushman
U-32 High School, Grade 10
They took the clothes, and the knick-knacks, and all the linens in the closet. They
left the drawers open and the rooms bare, let the sea air play with the window curtains
and midnight noises take over the day. They left the house with only the feeling and
the way she used to smell when shed crawl into bed next to him. Just like the ocean
ANDTHESKY3EABREEZEANDCLOUDS
He watched them as they moved everything out to the front of the beach house,
leaving boxes on the sandy yard, full to the top with memories of her, packed carefully
away. From here, it didnt seem like hislife, his sadness. It was just movers, movingboxes.
They packed everything into the big truck, memory after memory, moment after
moment, every piece of her disappearing into the belly of a dark stranger.
And then the lawn was bare, and the house was empty. All that was left was the
sea, gently meeting the shore. He looked out at it one last time as he got into his truck.
Everything he knew was behind him all that he had once loved. The only thing
remaining of the home he had made were two chairs, stuck in beach sand, overlooking
the ocean behind the house.
They were there as a promise and hope stuck waiting for two souls who longedto look at the sea, set there as a reminder of the quiet, gentle times before the tide came
in.
Bryan Storck
Essex High School, Grade 9
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The Day Northfield Was Knocked Down
Miranda Buck
Northfield High School, Grade 12
When the news got out about Irene, everyone in Northfield laughed and assumedwe would get nothing but a tiny rain storm. Little did we know we were all in for
something bigger than all of us.
On a Sunday afternoon, it started to rain; as that rain came pouring out of the
bluish-grey sky, most peoples worlds stopped. I walked down to the green footbridge.
What I saw broke me from the inside and out. The roads of Northfield were
BECOMINGRAGINGRIVERS0EOPLESHOMESWEREHALFUNDERWATER46STOYSWASHERS
ANDDRYERSPROPANETANKSFREEZERSCHAIRSANDPORCHESYOUNAMEIT)SAWITFLOATING
by. It was tragic and heartbreaking to see my hometown destroyed and completely
dominated by Hurricane Irene...
People from other towns came and lent a helping hand to people they didnt even
know. They were cleaning, shoveling mud, tearing down walls, bringing food and
water to the workers and families.
The community stopped worrying about the silly things in life
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