ywp anthology 4

7/31/2019 YWP Anthology 4

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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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3

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.


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.


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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8

Caitria Sands



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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.


11/66

I Love You Still

Tya Johnson


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?


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.


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



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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



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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.


18/66

(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



19/66

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



20/66

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



21/66

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



22/66

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


24/66

23

Innocence

Luna Isham


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



25/66

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



26/66

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.


27/66

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.


28/66

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



29/66

28

Wonderland

Jessica Austin


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.


30/66

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.


31/66

Rachel

Jonathan Zacharias


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



32/66

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.


33/66

32

The Best Aroma

Heidi Ambrozaitis


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.


34/66

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



35/66

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.


36/66

I Feel

Eva Edwards-Stoll


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



37/66


38/66

My Town

Lily Weissgold


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


39/66

38

Shooting Star

McKenzie Apjohn


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.


40/66

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



41/66

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.


42/66

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



43/66

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



44/66

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



45/66

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



46/66

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



47/66

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



48/66

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


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


49/66

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



50/66

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.


51/66

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


52/66

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


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.


53/66

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.


54/66

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


55/66

The Rains Came

Quincy Alves


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...


56/66


57/66

On The Hill

Charles Myers


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.


58/66

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



59/66

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

ywp anthology 4

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