cover art by

Dana Garrisondissipative.structures@yahoo.com

p. 14 Cascades Academy, Upper School

p. 25 Cascades Academy, Lower School

p. 7 Crook County High School

p. 29 Pilot Butte Middle School

p. 3 Cover Artp. 5 About Usp. 6 Submissionsp. 38 Archivesp. 39 “Like” Us On Facebook

EST. 2008, Founded and Edited by Jim Churchill-Dicks

P.O. Box 506, Prineville, OR 97754

‘hunting for voices that rise above the angry mob.’

torches n pitchforks online teen literary journal is dedi-cated to exploring the evolving relationship between form and content in creative writing, while also unleashing promising teen voices to the public. Sponsored by The Nature of Words.

We accept submissions of short fiction, creative nonfiction, and reviews from teen students nationwide. Poetry submissions are from regional students working with the NOW Writer’s in Schools Program only. We are also interested in short films or multimedia depictions of original poems. Original music will also be con-sidered.

Simultaneous submissions are permitted, as long as you let us know if your work has been accepted elsewhere.

ALL SUBMISSIONS MUST BE SENT VIA EMAIL IN A WORD.doc or .pdf ATTACHMENT to: torchesnpitchforks@hotmail.com

With your e-mail, send a brief cover letter with your name, age, State of residence and your previously unpublished work with the appropriate label, SHORT-FIC-TION, CREATIVE-NONFICTION, or REVIEW SUBMISSION in the subject line.

SPECIFIC GENRE GUIDELINES

Fiction and Creative Nonfiction submissions should have a tight narrative arc, and should likewise be 2,000 words or less. Your level of craft in the use of language, imagery, character and conflict will be of high interest.

Reviews should be 1,000 words or less, and can focus on either music, books, film, art events, or other literary journals. PARTICULAR ATTENTION WILL BE GIVEN TO REVEWS OF GUEST AUTHORS FROM THE NATURE OF WORDS. In your reviews, I want you to engage with the ‘hows’ in the craft of the work be-ing examined.

Visual artists should send a sampling of their work in the form of jpegs or .png files. I would love to see your experiments with form and media here- whether it be painting, photographic digital design, or some other unknown conjuring.

For all submissions, please do not send us the only existing copy of your work.

DISCLAIMER: While the aesthetic of torches n’ pitchforks encourages frank poetry/prose/discussion on sensitive issues of teen concern, t n’ p is not interested in publishing work with dead language, namely random or gratuitous profanity, nor does it choose to showcase works that glorify violence, sex or drug abuse.

COPYRIGHT:

Upon publication, copyrights return to and are retained by the Author or Artist with the following provision: if your work is republished, in another publication, anthology, or book collection, credit must be given to torches n’ pitchforks as the original publisher of the individual work.

Crook County High School

The Nature of Words Writers in Schools Program worked with four classes of Freshmen and Sophomores at CCHS. Workshop led by Micah Bournes and Jamie Houghton.

Listen to Seeby Desiree BergstromYou never hear peoplecriticize the stars then why do some place the boundaries, stereotypes and bars on people who can shine just as bright?

You never see peoplebreaking themselves down like a river through the rubble, then why do some breakothers whose prideis more fragile?

You never see nor hear a weeping willow crying when no one is around then why do many ignore the people we can see and hear all around?

So What?by Jillian DeHartSo what if she doesn’t wear makeup?So what if they talk different?So what if she has light skin?So what if he has dark skin?So what if she wants to be an artist?So what if he wants to be in a band?So what if they are nice to everyone?So what if his top priority isn’t being popular?So what if she can’t always afford new things?So what if he wishes everyone could be friends? So what?

Freakby Harlee CooperWhispers and rumorslooks and glaresshoves and beatings

This is what I getthis is what I go throughthis is my everyday life

Just because I’m differentJust because I’m weirdJust because I’m a ‘freak’.

I act differentlyI dress differentlyI talk differently.

Who are you to judgewho are you to talk who are you to say no

You don’t know meI don’t know you.

I”m different by heartnot by choice.

Who are you to call me a freakwhen you yourself are a freak in my eyes?

Lady Liberty by Elin BonyI see darkness, nothingI can hear words, sentences

I don’t know colors, but I can see the color of your heart

I see darkness, nothingI can hear words, sentences

I don’t know what you look like, but I can see your feelings.

I see darkness, nothingI can hear words, sentences

I don’t judge, because I can’t seeI listen because I care

I see darkness, nothingI can hear words, sentences

I am Lady Liberty

Lasted Loveby Casen MorrisionLove is never lostIt is never takenNever burnedUnlike the pictures of our memoriesof our time together, with such love

And that love is goneLike a balloon blown away by the gust of windonce therenow neverand that love, that beautiful lovewill not be touched by me

For our eternity never lastsand our mortality beganall the years that went pastand we knew our love wouldn’t last

To die alone and to be aloneto have lovedand to never loveand to be grateful of that love.

Amongst the Deadby Casen MorrisionI walk amongst the dead.With my feet above their heads.Leaves flow across the tombs.They are all in ruins.Winds whisper in my ear.At the graveyard, there to hear.Sorrows, regrets and tales are told.Happiness will fade.While there buried under a plain.the clouds started raining.letting the graves start pushing up daisies.Afraid of deathto be forgottento remember living and never leaving.to listen to the stories of the dead.of their sorrows, regrets and tales of the dead.Through the whispers of the windI walk amongst the dead.

Forever Goneby Azucena Vargas Every night before I sleep, I have to take a deep breath.ten years later,and I still can’t get over your death. but how could I possibly forget? If all I do is regret.

Regret, not knowing what to do. Regret, not spending more time with you. regret, all I could have said and done. But no matter how much I may regret, baby Boy, you are, ForeverGone

and no matter how much I may cry,

It won’t erase the fact that I watchedyou die.

The fact that I was so stupid so useless.

If only I could go back in time, Every moment by your side,I would cherish and bless. To go back in time, I know it is impossible but life without you is likeliving with the devil.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move on?I just hope you have forgiven me and watch me from above.

Pale Handsby Anna MollereHer hands were crackeddry from the harsh summersand long hours of laboringbut nowthey are whiteThe very touch makes me shiveras they are never warmshe’s not happy anymoreSleepless nightslooking forward to the misery each dayto come would bring.Page after endless page,it seems though no progress has been made.Is this for nothing?Is it all worth it?There is still warmth in those hands.

Where I’m Fromby Jenna OvensI am from camo and Corn Pops.I am from the house surrounded by fields.I am from the flower bed with noflowers, and the grass filled with weeds.

I am from ginger snaps in brown paper bagsand fishing in the hot summer sun, from great grandmas and a million cousinsfrom “get your elbows off the table” and “you never have time.”from church on Christmas and occasionally Easterfrom Norwegians and Louisiana,from steak every night and cobbler after

from so many unanswered questions

CASCADES ACADEMYUPPER SCHOOL

Fight On!Judi Kelley This wasn’t the first time I had ever sparred, but it was probably one of the more important ones. It’s something I learned about myself that won’t change. I walked into the heat-filled room. It was summer in Davis, California. The smell of sweat filled the air as I bowed at the door. I slipped off my shoes and popped my mouth guard into my mouth. I grabbed the rest of my gear and strapped it on. A cool breeze ran up my back as I stood by the side of the mat. Our sensei called us to line up, and we did. He put us into sparring groups. This match would determine if we should test for our next belt or not. I was paired up with him, my rival. He was older, and taller than me. But not smarter than me. But I wouldn’t lose. Hatred bubbled up my spine as I stood facing him. Sensei called for the match to start. Five minutes passed, and we had both not scored. Then, there it was, an open-ing. I jabbed his side and he stumbled back. My score. Now he wouldn’t hold back. The next round started and I scored again, instantly. He stumbled to the ground. I grabbed his arm and pulled him up. My heart was beating faster and faster; the adrenaline felt amazing.

Last round. It started, but something felt wrong. I hesitated for just one second and felt something nail me in the head. I was thrown and smashed to the ground. I couldn’t breathe, and then air came back to my lungs. I felt a sharp pain in my temples. Sensei took me to the side and tossed me an ice pack. I caught it and waited there on the side, watching. I never finished that match. We both passed the test though. That day I learned something. I love to fight. The adrenaline rush is amazing. Even when you take a kick to the head or punch to the gut, it still keeps you going. It feels great to win, too. But you have to work for it, and it can be hard. But my competitiveness for sparring won’t change. I still have a match to finish.

MemoirKaila The innocence. The carefree games of hide and go seek. Of climbing up on the roof, and tricking my sister into looking for us for hours. The fun games of tag up and down the bunk beds. Flipping over each other’s backs and doing the splits in the grassy front lawn next to the highway. Selling lemonade at the end of the driveway and only getting one customer that had no money. It all went away. The last game. We built a fort as big as our entire living room. Billowing sheets draped over chairs. It was dark un-derneath. Pillows were scattered, acting as the beds of our new play family. Three young girls, two sisters and the other a sister at heart. Night fell and still giggling, we went to sleep, having no idea this was the last game. The last truly happy moment. Mom was with us that night. Dad was visiting, just stopping by the farm on his way back home. That’s what we thought. Stopping by to say hello. Spirits still high as we woke up early and had some cereal for breakfast. Her mom was picking her up like always, the plan didn’t even have to be spoken. Today was different, my dad hadn’t come home and mom was still in bed. The air felt like a sunny day with a huge thunder cloud looming over everything

not yet noticed. Not much thought was given by the girls when it was not Beth at the door. It was a good family friend instead. It was not noticed by the thrilled faces of the girls that her face had no smile and if anything a very forced one. They got in the car and the play date was over. How could any young girl take so much pain, so much loss? The next day my mom sat me down. The knowledge did not seem real. Yeah, that was it, it wasn’t real. They were all overreacting and he was on vacation. That’s how I have thought of it my whole life. Just a very long vacation, a time to get away from life for a little bit. I did not cry, no not once did I cry. I wanted to cry. All I wanted was for a cascade of tears to run down my face. Sure, I have cried about it many times since, but then when they were most needed, they did not come. I tried to force them. I am guilty of not crying, not shedding a single tear. If I could go back, relive those days I would. I would go to her house with my family, only this time I would run up to her and sob into her shoulder. To take on and lighten her shoulders of sadness. For that, I believe, would have made my guilt go away. Everything might have been better, at least make the future easier. Easier to live with the death of my best friend’s dad.

The BoatChloe Green A scratchy life jacket was placed around me. My aunt snapped each snap closed and then carried me down the large hill. You could hear the crashing of waves and the various types of birds calling out up in the trees. We walked out onto the dock. The ocean was big, huge and extremely dark blue. My aunt set me down and I wandered down the long dock. I peered through the cracks where the wood was absent. You could catch a glimpse of the dark blue. My aunt grabbed my hand and we walked to the silver gate. She opened it and carefully picked me up. She walked down the steep dock, careful not to lose her balance. Once we were down the dock we were not on a dock that would move with each wave that crashed. Around me I saw my sister in my mom’s arms and my cousin in my grandma’s arms. My dad, uncle, and grandpa were the undoing the boat’s ropes. When that was done we all clambered aboard the boat. My aunt took me inside and I quickly clambered to the front of the boat where there was a bed hidden inside a wall. I sat down next to my sister. My grandma came back with a camera. She said smile, and then a bright flash ex-ploded in our faces as the boat pulled away.

The ChampionAlexa Peterkin The hot sun blared its rays onto my hunt coat. It flapped in the wind on the backside of the jump. My heart beat-ing fast, all I heard was the sound of hooves thrusting onto the soft grass. I came around the corner to the final jump. The top bar of the oxer looming at me, I looked for the dis-tance. Three…two…one…take off. The world stopped. The final step was taken. I lifted out of the saddle, letting my hands reach into the crest. Forte pushed off his strong hind legs. His knees snapped tight underneath his strong body. I looked through the opening between his pointed ears towards the crowd at the back gate. The flight was brief but exhila-rating. A thud and a cacophony of hooves, we landed on the backside. Ending the perfect round with a large circle, I smiled widely and patted his neck. He snorted with delight and knew he had done well. The crowd clapped furiously be-hind me. I knew it was the winning round. I walked proudly out of the ring. My hands tensed on the reins while I waited for my score. A dribble of sweat rolled down my neck. “Number 325, Alexa Peterkin and Forte receive a score of…88!” I al-most fell off of Forte. “Number 325, Alexa Peterkin and Forte owner, rider from Bend, Oregon! Also the high point rider of the day going with the excellent score of 88,” exclaimed the announcer. I was thrilled, no, more than thrilled. As he an-

nounced the placings for the classic, I rode back into the ring and led the victory gallop. A large blue ribbon and tri-colored ribbon whipped in the wind as Forte gallantly flew around the ring. I was handed a bouquet of roses and the photographer set up her camera. She unfolded the cooler in The High Des-ert Classic’s colors, red and blue, and placed it over his back. The blue letters proudly read, “High Desert Classic Champion 2011.” The brought the fabric up and tucked it behind my legs. I fumbled nervously around with the soft fleece. She smiled at me and helped me position it. “Don’t worry, you’ll get really good at this,” the photogra-pher whispered in my ear. She walked backwards and looked into the lens. Forte, knowing he was on camera, turned his head and stuck his front leg out straight, posing for her. She chuckled to herself and flashed the camera with me smiling from ear to ear.

My First MemoryLea Brody-Heine I opened my eyes to my room in the cabin that we were renting. The summer sun was shining in my face. The warmth felt good. I could smell my mom and aunts cooking waffles in the kitchen. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. After breakfast my family decided to go on a hike. I hate hikes, even more than broccoli! My parents promised that we could swim in the river, but I still did not want to go. They told me that they would bring candy. Then all my cous-ins were on board. I still did not want to go. I walked upstairs and lay on my bed. I do not want to go on a hike. I am only three and I can’t walk very far, I thought angrily. Finally I agreed. The trees were so tall they towered over me like giants. The air smelled like pine. The air was warm and moist. Ev-erything was so green, even the underbrush. The hike was along the river. I looked up at the sky. Why was it so blue? I thought. Maybe it was from the reflection of the water, or maybe it was that the universe was blue and not black, or maybe it was from the stars. Why is the ground coming closer to me? I hit the ground, but luckily I hit the ground with my hands. My hands hurt, but I was more surprised. We kept walking. After that we walked to the spot where we could swim. I changed into my swimsuit. It was still wet from the day before. I hated that feeling of sticky and cold. My dad had to go over how far we could swim out because there was a current. Just then a bee decided to fly near us. I

did not like bees. Suddenly it landed on my bathing suit. I tried to wipe it off, but then it just stuck to my hand. My dad tried to get it off but then it stung me. My finger started to throb; then my whole hand. I started to cry. The taste of salt entered my mouth from my tears. My dad told me that we had to get the stinger out of my finger, but I did not want him to go poking around in my finger to find the stinger. He took out his wallet and then his credit card. He told me he was just going to scrape it off. He put the card against my finger, it was cold and hard. It scraped against my finger. When it got to the spot where the bee stung me, it actually took out the sting-er. After it was out I put it in the water and it got numb.

In the MeadowCarson Wright I remember when my friend and I started running after the deer. I don’t even remember why we started running after the deer; we just did. I loved the sound of the galloping and the heavy breathing of us and the light breathing of the deer. Something that stands out in my mind the most is the twigs and bushes cracking like heavy cracks of a whip. We ran so far that the land we recognized was far behind in the other direction. We didn’t stop for a rest, pushing through the pain in our legs. I yelled to my friend, “We are lost.” He yelled, “I want to run until I can’t run anymore or un-til we are there.” I yelled back to him, “Where is…’there’?” He didn’t an-swer. We were so far away from my house I didn’t know where we were or how we were going to get back. But now I had the same accomplishment to get to the place or that thing, to just collapse panting. We now were in the thick woods. It was getting dark. I was starting to get tired, and I couldn’t run much further. We both just fell on the ground. We didn’t talk or say anything. The only thing I heard was my friend. After laying in the grass, we both stood up and saw the most beautiful meadow with tall grass and the deer in front of the blue, purple, pink and red sunset.

KindergartenOlivia Colton It was September 7, 2005, when it was my first day of kin-dergarten. We painted portraits of ourselves and made nam-etags out of pasta. I can remember some unusual things about the day. For the portraits, I did the painting first and then I used the permanent marker. It was so cool using a marker that didn’t wash out back then. Also, making our nametags took such a long time! It seemed almost impossible! The only person I knew there was Rowan. Also, I knew some people who were older that were friends with my broth-er. He was in the fourth grade. I was scared but I could also tell that it was a safe place to be in. I really liked school except the fact that I had to get up really early. It was way different from when I was in preschool and visited. Homework was not hard. Surprisingly, it was fun because all we had to do was practice a few words of the week. The words were pretty easy except I recall having a hard time remembering, “because.” Every day we had to write in a journal. It was cool be-cause back then I liked to write about really random things. Mrs. Fiore always spellchecked the spelling in the correctly spelled word underneath. For some reason I still have my kin-dergarten journal and read it sometimes. Some of the things in it are really funny because the spelling is wrong. I wrote weird things and the pictures were funny. Spelling back then felt like magic. I always tried to write books before I went to school with random letters and when I learned, it was so cool.

Reading was also. We did a bunch of fun things. For Halloween, we dressed up and got to frost cupcakes and cookies. They had little bats, ghosts and pumpkins in them too. That year for Halloween I was Snow White. I really liked the fact that I was Snow White because I thought I looked just like her! Storyline was exciting and cool back then. In one of them, called, “Esperanza,” we had jobs on the ship and sailed around the world. My job on the ship was a house cleaner. Kyle was one with me. Another one was the Winter Olym-pics. I was an ice skater. We even had teams. I remember making bobsleds out of cardboard with our teams and sled-ding down in them on the playground. It was so exciting! Since Mrs. Fiore’s husband worked at Pizza Mondo, she took us there and we made pizza. The pizza was so yummy and delicious. Plus it was fun just eating the pizza with our friends. The very last day of school was so sad. It was sad leav-ing all of my new friends and one of my favorite teachers. Now, it seems so silly crying on the last day of school, being sad that I don’t have to work anymore. Then, in first grade, we got work. It was fun and all but it was a lot more fun when we got to play.

The BiteLaz Glickman I was sitting on the couch, staring at the glass coffee table in the living room. I remember the small pieces of foam on the corners, preventing me from hitting my head on them. My dad picked me up off the couch, and brought me outside. The black Volvo S.U.V. was waiting there, and my dad strapped on my seatbelt. He went inside, got my mom, and we drove off. In 2002, I was living in Portland. My dad was the presi-dent of the Portland Beavers, a local minor league baseball team. We arrived at PGE Park, the home of the Beavers. My mom unbuckled my seatbelt, and laid me down in a stroller. As my dad walked the other way, I started to hear the throng of people, and the smells of American food, as salty as the Dead Sea. Being a baby, I bit my mom’s knit sweater. “Stop it, silly,” she told me, while pulling my mouth away. We made our way to our seat, avoiding the ketchup and gum lying on the ground. We sat down, and my mom grabbed me out of the stroller. She chatted for about a half hour, with me in her arms. Finally, my dad arrived, and the game began. Given my age of one, I didn’t pay attention to the game, but I did notice the mass amount of people and colors. I also enjoyed the big brown beaver mascot that was running around in the crowd. I remember one time when I gave him a high-five. I giggled in

joy and my mom loved watching me have so much fun. Every game was a new adventure. After the 9th inning ended, our family started to walk outside. The fresh air felt good on my soft skin, like a splash of water covering me. Suddenly, my gums started to tingle. I had to bite something. So I did. I bit the closest thing I could see: my dad’s hat. I wouldn’t let go, and he just laughed. I could see my mom out of the corner of my eye, also cracking up at the scene. Someone must have gotten a picture of it, because it was in the newspaper the next day. When my parents saw it, they giggled, and I remembered that hilarious scene.

MemoirAnna Peterson Ever since I was young, I hated pointless rules and tucked in shirts. I liked bare feet and no plans for the future. That is still what I like. I never quite understood what I was going to do with my life or who I truly was; I still don’t know these things. One day it dawned upon me that I was going to be a wanderer, but what that entails I have no idea. Lying in my room one night, I turned my head to view my purple raggedly clock. I tread 3:15. Everyone in the house was dead asleep and all the lights were out. I myself have al-ways had a really hard time sleeping and this always seemed to result in a long stretch till dawn, thinking. I looked up at the ceiling wondering what would happen if I packed a backpack and cashed out my savings and lived on the road for a while, getting away from all this uniformed and corrupt authority. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea and the closer I was to packing my backpack. I knew if I returned, consequences would come and it would be really hard for someone my age to live on the road. You might be sitting back and thinking, what a dumb child, what a stupid juvenile, she doesn’t know what she is do-ing, she is giving up something great and trading it for dirt. I have had this lecture many times from the people I have pro-posed this idea to, but if you were me, if you thought the way I thought, you might even make the same decision. If I was going to live this life for the money I’d be a lawyer, but that

sounds like possibly one of the worst things ever. I would prefer to escape this society and live by the rules of the road. You only get one life so make what you want of it. Make stu-pid decisions, do stupid things, don’t think about it in the long run, and don’t do anything right because you just might end up living forever. This too may be puzzling you, but that night I realized that it’s not about living as long as you can, unless you are happy and wandering would make me happy. Not having the future perfectly planned out, not being stuck in an office building, in a pencil skirt and blouse. I say out with the blouses and pencil skirts. That late night I learned this very important thing about myself, all thanks to a slight case of sleep apnea.

Cascades AcademyLower SchoolPK- 5th Grade

UntitledEllery RatherMe and my friend Tegin went sledding down the hill. It was fun. We went sledding in our neighborhood. We both had red cheeks but we were having so much fun that it was easy to ignore. It was so easy to ignore that we couldn’t feel our red cheeks. I was happy that we couldn’t feel them.

It’s SnowingVeda RobertsonIt’s snowing it’s snowing! I am so excited! I am going to tell my mom, “Wake up Mom! Wake up Mom! It’s snowing! Let’s ride our sled on the tiny hill.”

The Visiting CatChloeOne time a cat came on my front porch. The cat came over to my house and stayed for lots of days. It was not allowed inside my house because I am allergic to cats. The cat really liked my house, I noticed. It was a black cat and it was cute. The cat finally went away. The cat never came back.

UntitledMary Jane BundyOne day I was digging in my front yard with Neve and we found a strange long board with holes in it. It was cool. We also found a cup. We put a ribbon through the board and through the handle of the cup.

The ZooMcKenzie LattigWhen I went to the zoo I went with my best friend Maya. We stayed at her house. She lives in Seattle. At the zoo we saw elephants, zebras, lions, monkeys, hippos, penguins and a ko-modo dragon. We will go to the zoo again. There were plastic dinosaurs that spit water at you. My sisters was on my dad’s shoulders screaming like this: AHHH!

Adventure Is…Adison TanguayOne day when I was 8 in my old house I was behind my back yard. I was with my friends Genna and Dakota. We went into a really grouchy neighbor’s back yard. He didn’t see us but he almost did. Then we went to another backyard. She saw us but she was nice. After that we went back to the house and told my mom everything. By the time we were done my dad was fin-ished with the tree house so I went down the zipline fist, then Genna went, then Dakota went. Parker (my brother) went last. Then it was lunch.

The Snow DayOliver ScofieldOne morning I went downstairs and looked out the window. It was snowing! I quickly went to get my sister and we got our winter clothes on. We went outside and quickly made a sled jump! We got our sleds our from the shed and went flying through the air.

Haunted HouseNeve GerardOne day I found a ghost house. I planned to go inside it. When I did go in it was awesome and I was not scared. It was fun.

SnakesRiley KerkmannI had a reptile birthday in January. I turned six. I saw a snake. It was humongous and it had yellow polka dots. The party was at Andre’s house.

An Adventure with a FlashlightAndres BahnsI like my secret path from my house. I found a flashlight near my house. Something was weird. It had batteries already in it. I took it home.

Cat WonderEllen SchreppeOne time I was walking through my back yard and I discovered a hole under our house. I went in my house and told my mom about the hole in our backyard. She said, “I know.” So, our cat goes in the hole sometimes. My cat is big. My cat is furry. Our neighbors said, “Wow!”

Snow FortsFinn EdwardsWhen I was four or five my mom’s friends came over to my house and we made big snow forts. We would pack the snow in the opening so it was dark and then we would break through the snow so we could get out. Then we would pack the snow in the opening again and again. It was so fun.

The Snow DayJoey RubensteinWhen it was my snow day I had a snowball fight. I went sled-ding and I built an igloo and I had a fantastic time.

Snow DayNicolas OnckenLast Saturday I went sledding in a neighborhood with my mom and dad and brother. It was awesome! The first time I broke my sled because there was a rock hiding.

The CaveThor SchmidtI went to the cave and found a rattlesnake. The cave got small-er and smaller. We walked back to metal stairs.

Pilot ButteMiddle School

Poem About FamilyWill McAllisterI describe family as people making rules and watching over me.People I care for and they care for me.I describe family as people who bother, bug and annoy me.Family are those people who you are proud of and brag about to others.Family are also the people who drive you to school and say, “Goodbye Pumpkin!”That’s when you duck your head and pull up your hood in embarrassment.

Family are in your kitchen cooking turkey on Thanksgiving.You trust them and betray them.Family are moms leaving notes in your lunch bag, brothers and sisters who annoy you, dads helping you with sports and school projects.

FreeIsabel GermanesThe voice that was soft with one and hard with another.The smell that brought a shudder to my back and fear in my heart.The man that blamed anyone but himself and loved only him-self and his poison of choice.The boy who used to drink and drug as his crutch.

The voice that was soft with us and hard with him.The smell that gave relief and melted my dread-filled heart.The woman who took his blame and held it in.The girl that forgave and almost forgot so she could live.

My voice full of fear of him and love for them.My smell I took with me that made teachers check my bags.The girl I wanted to be but couldn’t because of him.The almost woman I am because of my fear, hate and love.

Their voices that made me cry when I heard.Their smell of innocence and love and trust in me.The girls I wanted to protect because I knew who they could be.The women they would become because of our mom’s determi-nation.

He made me cry, he made me bleed. He gave them love and when he left I cried with glee, she cried with love and they cried because they knew he was gone and we were free.

My Brother ZachFaith HolmScreaming, yelling, fighting, arguing…that’s what my house sounds like most of the time. Scars, bruises and scratches…that’s what I have and the way I get them is from my older brother Zach. I have two older brothers: Josh and Zach, but Josh is older so he is more mature. Zach and I: we fight a lot. We kick, punch, scratch, pinch, scream, yell and argue. He just moved to Eugene a couple months ago. At first I was happy because he was leaving and I didn’t want to fight anymore. The day after he left I started getting sad. I started missing our fights. When he comes to visit now, we still fight…but this time, I don’t get all mad and say I hate him. I smile instead. I realize I really do love him even if we fight a lot.

FamilyLee CraigFamily is structure, order and peace. Family is just being happy because you’re together. Family is facing and overcoming chal-lenges as a whole. Family is sharing stress, sharing grief and of course sharing the good times. Family is joyful, tense. Every day I wake up to a family as hard as a rock but as caring as the Earth. They provide me with food and water, but throw chal-lenge after challenge at me in the process. This is my family.

A ShadowDamian MarshI have spent my entire life as a shadowI have spent my entire life spending time listeningI have spent hours sitting silently, waiting for someone to move.

I am only noticed when I do what I’m not supposed toI am never congratulated for my day to day movementsI am only noticed when the brightest of moments are shining.

I do not disappear when the times are darkI do not flee as one would call a fair-weather friendI do not fade away like most think of their shadow.

I become the largest thing noticed in the darkI become the shadow of the clouds, or the dark tunnelI become the most important thing that isn’t noticed.

I have spent my entire life as a shadowI am perfectly happy with almost never being noticedI do not want to be given the spotlight because like a shadowI. become. invisible.

UntitledAlex PitcherWhen I wake up, the alarm clock makes a beepI take a leap into the shower as I water my daily flowerMy brother knocks on the door, says it’s time to go to schoolI said, no, you foolI still have 10 minutesthe 10 minutes Dad had until he was forced to leave

I still see him here but when it comes back to reality he’s no longer thereBecause of Mom we only get to see him every other weekend

What we need to do is go back to Tillamook, away from all the stressand get back to our real home where we used to live

Mi MadreEstrella RosalesThis is a poem for you, MadreFor your broken heartFor your tearsFor your sadness you always carry inside you

This is a poem for you, MadreBecause I can’t stand seeing you this wayYou make be blue and grayYou make me feel like burned woodIt wasn’t my fault

I lovedThe days you used to smilePut your lucky necklace onShow off your dancing skills

I hope that you, mi MadreLet go soonIt wasn’t meant to be this way

I also hope that you, mi MadreAlwaysRemember me your daughterWho loves and cares for you

My Family the ZooPayton NorthMy family is a zoo!It looks like many, many people.It sounds like talking morning, noon and night.It smells like Grandma has something in the oven.It feels like a warm fireplace.It tastes like Grandma’s old unfinished recipes.They do have the occasional flaw butMy family is my family and I love them all.

UntitledKevin ScottThis is my happiness.This is my sadness.This is my health.This is my hope.This is myself.This is my family.

UntitledSam AtkinsMy family is a solar systemRevolving, attracting avoidingEvolving, shoving, lightingBurning, flowing, stationary

My family is a solar systemAdding, large, smallMacroscopicDefending, revolvingAround one thing

My family is a solar systemMoving on, gaining moreBeing destroyed by asteroidsMoving on to become other planetoids

My family is a solar systemPreparing, accepting, destroying

My family is my family.

UntitledErik MendezWhat I’m about to lectureIs not a coo coo conjectureI’m going to talk about my family

My family is like a manateeFloating about like a sea starIn what you call an ocean but I call “el mar”

My family is stuck together like a piece of metal with a boltWe are never going to crack or ever going to faultYou cannot prove me wrongEven though this is not a song

My family is NOT a broken circuitBecause when we go together to a supermarketWe always make sure that we are close byBecause we never want a sudden goodbye

Family is wherever I feel that I can express what is meNot where I try to be someone else.

Family Is…Daniel MendozaTop RamenLies to truthCheapSisters to brothersJokesSafeUnorganizedERStill at the expositionConfinedFavoritesBaseballBooksOverprotectiveNail bitingButterfingersFlannelsBoxesElectronicsHypocriticalAbuseDiabetesHikingChihuahuas

My Best Friend Is…Marlen GonzalezMy best friend is family to me. We have our ups and downs. We stop talking for about a week or two. But after that we’re talking again. Sometimes she tells me, “get away,” but Marlen, don’t listen to her.

After all our ups and downs, she still cares about me no matter what goes down. One day she’s talking to me, but some days she’s mad. I know she’s going to come back…you know why? Because she cares about me. She loves me. My best friend is family to me!

Family IsBalboneda DorantesSomeone who comes and goesBrings you up and brings you downHas a shoulder for youSomeone who you love and hateThey see you and ignore youSay yes and noGives you happiness and gives you darknessBends you but never breaks you

UntitledDylan TorresFamily is people who are there when you need them.Family is your friends that you trust.Family is the people that supply you with the stuff that you need such as food, a place to sleep and fresh sheets to sleep on.Family is my dog that rests his head on my chest every night before I go to sleep.Family is my mom that quit her job to live in a better neighbor-hood.

UntitledManuel PonceMy family is loyal, helpful and braveThey risked their lives to come hereThey walked on the desert for six days

I don’t care what people say about my family because of the color of their skinBut my family is…But my family is…My life

UntitledJessica TeitgenThink…shall I not?Memories of my family begin to appear.I hear laughter, smiles and fun.I ask who…what…why?There’s no reply.

A cold and moist breeze blows through the sky and whispers, it’s not what you see but what you feel.It’s not what you hear but what listens to the cries, broken smiles and hearts.

My family is what I write and sing.It is what I write with and write on.They do not judge, but they listen because I write the story.

My family is not the average family but only because I am scared to open up to anything else.I am strong; I give comfort, peace love, and a safe place to come.I do not get that feeling back, not because they don’t try but be-cause I am a box full of secrets.People have to find that one key that opens my box up.It’s hard to come by.

Sometimes it’s as if I’m holding a rope and on the end is a HUGE iron brick. Everyone that I care for is underneath it. I must hold on with all my strength! I cry and yell help! Help!

But no one comes. Tears begin to fall from my face. I don’t let go. I am getting weak but still no one comes. I just want and need that one person to come. That one person with the key. Who knows I am strong. But knows one cannot stand alone with all these burdens.

That’s why my family is what it is. It lets me write my story in the way that no one else can. It allows me to be me and tell someone for hours how my world is crashing down. And that is what a family does.

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