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March 2013

Gordon Hargraves: White Pond

Sitting on a small plot of sand The wisps of clouds slowly move across the blue sky Water has not been touched in days Across the lake you can see the popular beach Little do the people know that the other side is much better My left hand barley holds a fishing pole It takes little effort to hold it up The other moves the dile on the old radio to find the clearest station Bang! perfect My hand moves away slowly not to disturb it I see my red bobber dip into the water then come back out Slowly I reel the fish in but when I can see it the fish has gotten away It doesn't matter FIsh are a bonus I come out here to get away from it all I hear a squeal of excitement from the trees behind me My little sister got a butterfly to stand on her finger Mom made me take her I see a glimpse of the butterfly but then if flys away This is a place to get away To forget about everything else School work doesn't matter Sports don't matter A great weight has been lifter from my shoulders Out here time stands still There is no modern day things but the old rail road I followed to come here It looks exactly the same as it did 200 years ago And thats the way it will stay Read more →

~Mitchell Groves Slam a Fight for Courage

"We weren't always successful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained." ~J.M. Darhower Is poetry a good thing to learn about even though it is dying? Our grade had a poetry slam yesterday, and it was amazing. When my teacher told me that we would be sharing poetry I thought to myself " Reading poetry to each other are you kidding me, poetry is boring". The poetry slam was supposed to be the day before school was let out for March break. The most amazing thing happened that day; it was a complete snow day. I thought I dodged a bullet, but I soon learned that the bullet would soon make a second pass and hit me right in the head. My dad told me it was rescheduled for the Tuesday after break. It is a fight to the death, but the fighters are freshman in high school. Blood, sweat and words shed on the rectangular ring in our headmaster’s house. It was a poetry slam A poetry slam a like a rap battle without music. One thing that helped me get over the fear of the poetry slam was that it was in a very familiar place. The poetry slam was in the wards living room, where I sent many Friday afternoon’s reading poetry and eating cookies at Pen to Paper. I felt so comfortable being in there, because it was such a warm and welcoming place for me in the past, it was a place that I was familiar with,... Read more →

By James Sanderson The Cruel, Unforgiving World

I am so tired that my muscles in my body find it extremely hard to perform a smile to my mom. I sit in front of my glowing computer, rubbing my eyes after each sentence I type, blinking at the time wondering how on earth am I still tired. My eyes close as I let out a huge yawn followed by three more. I am still in my pajamas as it is 12:21 am and I refuse to put on real pants. I am at 81 words just 119 words to go, the thought pierces my brain and makes me more tired which I thought was not possible. Just 200 and I am finished with the assignment. My legs are too sore and asleep to move me to my Lucky charms box. The red box with the vibrant marshmallows busting out of the lame blue bowl--the image is too much for me I have to turn away before I did something that I would regret, like call for the women. The temptation was too much "MOTHER" I yell, with anguish and hope that maybe she will come and pour me a bowl of happiness. "WHAT" she yelled back in annoyance. "Can you pour me a bowl of Lucky's" I said with the shred of dignity that I had left. There was no responds but hope was soon crushed by the women in clogs walking away leaving with just the thunderous sound of her clogs on the hard wood floor. Hope... Read more →

Kyler Hall: Nature Has Moodswings Too

I reluctantly roll out of my warm, blanket covered bed, and slip on my matching sweat pants and sweatshirt. I trudge down the stairs and get to the front door. Looking through the small window in the door, I look at the rain flying in every direction in a hellfire. I cautiously open the front door, and I am invited by a spray of rain right into my eyes. I rush down the porch steps, and find a reasonably dry spot under the canopy of my garage. Looking straight down at my wet slippers, I see water running down the meandering cracks in my asphalt driveway. The wind has gone mad and it is shaking the trees that encircle the driveway. I look at the fenced in coy pond, and the now dead spring flowers getting whipped around by the wind. It makes me think if the frogs and fish that live and around the pond and what they are doing right now. A branch across the street rests on a power line, making me wonder if I will even be able to type what I am typing now. This morning reminds me of a thrashing war. The rain is flying everywhere like bullets, and silent screams from the bare trees who must be freezing. Above me, the rain pounds down on the canopy, and the wind splashes me with an occasional spray of water on my cotton clothes. I feel very uncomfortable, and deem it appropriate to make a... Read more →

Reid Shilling: The Bay

The place of my summer life, bringing happiness at every touch. A special place where I was raised to maturity. Ah, the bay. The soft seagulls facing the wind, scanning the water for a snack. The masts of sailboats clinking, as the halyards slap against the hard metal. Groups of fish launching out of the water, “bluefish blitz,” the fisherman yell. As I walk along the berm, there are a multitude of crabs waddling along the pilings. The constant hum of motorboats in the distance, fishing, tubing, waterskiing. I hear chatter from every direction, people on bikes, in the water, or on the beach. Last but not least: the air, satisfying as the wind brushes lightly against my pale cheek. But the bay has it’s own secrets. These memories I hold tight. Only when I am reunited with the bay, will these come back to life. Salty water and bay rot It smells like a fragrance foreign to everyone, but not me. As I take a dip in the lukewarm water, I find the water has a taste similar to a saltine, but I have come accustomed to this, nectar from the gods. As I dig a little deeper in my glory hole of memories, I find fish, crabs, eels, and even the occasional horseshoe crab. It is a whole other universe. As I step of our boat on the last day of summer, I recount all of these moments in my head. I leave with one last dip in... Read more →

Odom Sam: Where I Am From

I am from the tire screeches that pierce the ears and the flashing lights that daze the sights. loud music that sways the mind and the beats that echo in the neighborhoods, the security of fences, yet the hatred and vulnerability of the borders. I am from the torn country that was left in shambles and the lost children that were forgotten. From the crimson red and cerulean Blue flag that falsely waves in the sky and the half raised counterpart that I look up at now; that struggles to rise again. “Don’t give up, Don’t give in. Stand up; take control.” Support comes from within and around, Uplifting the sorrowful past and abandoned dreams; To open new doors for opportunities. I am from the lonely timbering trees at the corner of the streets, misplaced and surrounded by the cold, rugged cement. The trash scattered streets that reek of the stench of hopelessness, the vacant clear walls covered with colored impressions and letters. The lost and faithful who wander the streets, searching for loose coke bottles and dented cans, Scavenging for the pieces of survival that derive from the-- Clink! and Clang! I am from the fluffy, white rice and the juicy, smokey Loc Lac that melts as I chew. The greasy, messy hamburgers and the fruit flavored soft drinks that dance on the surface of the tongue. I am from the fruit smoothies with black gummy pearls, and the crunchy, yet soft fried ice cream, yet still apart of... Read more →

E.J. Fitzsimmons: A Life of Music

Music is something that has been around me in some way shape or form for my whole life. For example, if you look the wall of my living room you will see two banjos, two mandolins, three guitars, and a ukulele. I play guitar, mandolin, a little bit of banjo and I can play chords on the piano but not very well. My dad plays guitar and he has been playing since college so his folk music has always been present in my lifetime. All six of my brothers and sisters are musicians as well. I have a brother that plays drums, one who plays trumpet and harmonica, and another that plays guitar. All three of my sisters play guitar but my oldest sister also plays piano and sings as well. Sometimes some of us will get together and just play songs that we are learning or play old songs that we learned a while ago. A lot of the songs that I know how to play I learned at a camp called Windsor mountain where music surrounds you. There is so much talent among the campers and it is fun to listen to all of them play instruments like ukuleles, bass guitars, guitars, pianos, mandolins, etc., for they are all great at playing. As you can see, music is a big part of my life, but I would like to hear about some of the big influences that you all have in your lives. Read more →

Odom Sam: Sandy Relaxation

Sandy Relaxation A bright sun gleams in the sky, heat showers on my shirtless back, The heat is an open sauna, Which relaxes me; At first. Extreme heat stifles my breath My patience wears thin, I yearn to leap I yearn to splash In the salty, cool Atlantic Ocean. I head to the spongy mud like sand At the water’s edge. The bottom of my feet sinks with every step. The texture was rough and grainy It felt foreign between my toes, I finally reached the shore, The tide ebbed and flowed over my feet, The cold water made my feet numb. I walked into the sea, Its chilly water crept over my skin. An electric shiver traveled through my body As I paced farther away from shore The seawater rose, Reaching my stomach. As I paced farther away from shore Sand grew laxer. I inhaled deeply Filled my lungs with the rich, briny air. I dropped down under the surface of the shallow water, Icy H2O engulfed my body; Icy H2O engulfed my senses. It begins to sooth me. My feet touch the bottom of the mid deep water, The consistency was refined and soft, Like fresh ground sugar. I push of the dusty white sand And rose from the surface, My body accumulates to the saline sea. I feel refreshed. Read more →

Leo Saraceno: If I was an Honest Man

If I was an honest man I would emancipate the prophets and simplify the logic If I was the villain I would reflect on past crimes as the hero closes in I would pout, pan and plunder to the point of an enlightened symmetry because you can only find light while in the dark. If I was the hero I would be dismissed after the series of unfortunate events dismissed I'd be, and after the gloat and boast I'd float right around the moat; probably dead jealousy is a powerful motivator my friends. If I was an intellectual man I would pontificate the means of an end and throw what they send where knowledge is found dreams can be lost. If I could speak I'd call the masses and smash the glasses vanquish the chaos, creating peace. And if I was you I wouldn't believe and relive my thoughts, think for you, become yourself in the highest definable sense. Read more →

2012 Session Uno: Ski from SASS Global Travel on Vimeo. ©Ben Girardi All Rights Reserved This past summer I embarked on a journey to Argentina in search of an extension to my ski season, to explore, a new culture, and meet new people. I was traveling with a group called SGT (sass (ski and surf sessions) global travel) a couple of my friends from Stratton, who were on my ski team, had gone down the previous summer and were coming with me this time were on my flight along with Jackson Boyle. The journey started with us taking a three-hour car ride to Connecticut, where we would spend the night, the day before our flight, which was mostly fine except for a besides a bit of traffic. We then spent the night at my uncle's house in Darien. The next morning we woke up around 7:00, packed up anything we had to last minute, printed our boarding passes and got out our passports. After a short car ride to the LaGuardia airport in New York City, we then met up with my friends who were coming with us and said our final goodbyes to our parents. After finally boarding the airplane thunderstorms came which delayed our flight 2 hours in which we sat on the runway. Then, leaving the airport it was a smooth 3 hour flight to Miami until we unloaded the plane, ran across the airport to our next gate only to find out that it had left... Read more →