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A place to be me

By Wendy Bailey,2014-07-15 19:49
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A place to be me

    Table of Contents:

    Poetry

    Death of the Creator by Keith Elias

    “A Place to Be Me” by Krystal Cavert “Day of Silence” by Krystal Cavert

    “Awakened by Your Love” by Rachel Swan “Anger is Like…” by Kaylee Goerl

    “The Loss of Your Children” by Leah Kelly “Cubical Anger” by Tara Vondracek

    “We Come For Him Now” by Wade Yohr “Earthquake” by Paul Meigo

    “True Friends” by Erik Jackson

    “Till We Meet Again” by Arielle Zelinski “Goddess of My Life” by Paul Meigo “Halo to Horns” by Paul Meigo

    “Rain” by Rachel Swan

    “Helplessness” by Kim Peters

    “Imminent End” by Cassandra Sirovatka “I Found the Light” by Brandy Reese “LIES!” by Kaylee Goerl

    “Just One Last Time” by Steph Rucynski “Rendition of Sentiment” by Arielle Zelinski “Ode to Pepsi” by Leng Lee

    “A Million Times Before” by Kathleen Allen

    “A Never Ending Love” by Alisha Clements “Almost Family” by Alisha Clements “Confidence is the Key” by Anna Marquardt “To…” by Krystal Cavert

    “Nothing but a Question” by Anna Marquardt “Sweet” by Kou Lee

    “Ode to Guitar Hero” by Josh Lefeber “I Wish That You Could Stay Like This Forever” by Carla Leon

    “Trip of a Lifetime: Germany” by Arielle Zelinski “Pain” by Anonymous

    “Message” by Carla Leon

    “The Color White” by Anonymous

    “What I Wish Under this Night” by Carla Leon “The Rain” by Anonymous

    “Through the Earth” by Krystal Cavert “My Little Buddy” by Kathleen Allen “Soldier” by Kim Peters

    “Sad” by Kaylee Goerl

    “The Protector” by Kathleen Allen

    “A Friend Deprived” by David Pietila

    “My Apology” by Samantha Graniela

    “The Middle of Nowhere” by Melissa Berryman “You Must Really Love Our Country” by Melissa Berryman “Bad Day Turned Good” by Hunter Wolf

    “The Wall” by Ryan Whitehouse

    “Crazy ABC‟s” by Amanda Becker

    “Journey to Inspiration” by Molly lefeber

    “Lightning Effect” by Molly Lefeber

    “To my fingers- wherever they might be” by Ashley Martin

Essays

    “Her One and Only Companion” by Arielle Zelinski “Gay Marriage” by Eli Retzlaff

    “Tech N9ne” by Molly Lefeber

    “Building Bridges Between Society and Diversity” by Heidi Golznig “The Dark Side” by Arielle Zelinski “The Skinned Out Truth” by Cymone Jones

    “The Stranger” by Eli Retzlaff

     Memoir

    “Painful Tears” by Becky Finch

    “The Buddy System” by Melanie Rajiski

    “They Love Me, They Love Me Not” by Breanna Sweirtz “Secrets of a Seventh Grade Nobody” by Samantha Graniela

    Short Stories “New Change” by Denise Albarren

    “Ten Seconds to Love” by Casie Gartzke

    “War Recollection” by Wade Yohr

    “The Galaxy of Creations…” by David Cruickshank “The Creatures of the Sky” by Melissa Berryman “What Hurts the Most” by Aubree Omachinski

    “To Love the End” by Keith Elias

Artwork

    Heart Monitor by Adam Barnett Frisco by Jacob Woelfel

    Fairie Lady by Laci Dorn

    Scrambled Brain by Laci Dorn Midwest Rail Siding by Jacob Woelfel Sunny Sky by Alexandria Sprangers Lily by Alexandria Sprangers Mural by Mandi Czarnik, Martin Fejes, Jackie Perket, Karissa Beaudry and Lauren Kirsch

    Bracelet by Emily Steffens

Along the Shore by Rachel Opsahl

    Follow the Path by Rachel Opsahl

    Looking Upon Taylor Lake by Rachel Opsahl

    Railway by Eli Retzlaff

    Shades by Karissa Beaudry

    Cross by Britanny Burwell

    Spiral Notebook by Rachel Opsahl

    Twilight by Josh Lefeber

    Relaxing Lady by Jenny Cleveland

    Arizona Sky by Josh Lefeber

    People by Chris Lembcke

    Grace by Dana Schmidt

    Sunset in Cancun by Dana Schmidt

    Birds by Chris Lembcke

    Midnight Bliss by Dana Schmidt

    Tranquilty by Dana Schmidt

    Dragon by Jenny King

    Tree by Robin Stumpf

    Butterfly by Karissa Thompson

    Ivan by Ashley Martin

    Hand by Rodney Huff

    Fish by Kao Xiong

    Sky by Andrea Lindert

    Foreword

    According to Merriam Webster:

    Creative= having the quality of something created rather than imitated Writing=the act or process of one who writes

    Art= decorative or illustrative elements in printed matter

This publication is designed to showcase the variety of creative writing and artistic voices we have

    within the walls of Menasha High School. Submitting work takes a lot of bravery and risk as

    writing and art work can sometimes be very private. The Creative Writing II students would like to

    thank all the students who have work in this year‟s Basket-Case of Serendipity.

    2008 Creative Writing II Editors:

    Melissa Berryman Alisha Clements Keith Elias Jeremy Kautz Leah Kelly Leng Lee Joshua Lefeber Molly Lefeber Carla Leon Anna Marquardt Ashley Martin Aubree Omachinski Eli Retzlaff Steph Rucynski Dana Schmidt Karissa Thompson Tara Vondracek Arielle Zelinski Teacher: Ms. Klanderman

    This year‟s publication is dedicated to the memory of

    Kimberly Swick.

    1989 2007

    Forever Young

    by Renee 'nay' Kristen

    Trapped in the glorious years

    within the memory of belief, lost of all grief.

    Take the reasons,

    which once seemed so clear,

    but never mind, you have nothing to fear. For you my fried will be, forever young, Forever in the heart of memories.

    Lost in the glory of all time, the wisdom was there within that smile,

    You see you could have told us,

    there within lies the mystery.

    So shed a smile, and grin a tear,

    For you my friend, will be,

    Forever young, Forever young.

    Forever in the heart of memory,

    We see not through or misery.

    Forever young, forever young.

    There's a new angel tonight.

Death of the Creator by Keith Elias

    Desire and intuition,

    the start of a cycle that spins slowly

    and throughout time, our time, we've set out on a mission.

    Our intuition has sought out to destroy itself, as we have designed our world to no longer need intuition.

    And that intuition fights to fill its desire.

    The user is born.

We wanted to cure our pains, find an easier way.

    Through many generations, through many lives and sacrifices we found resolutions. Future generations will benefit, we thought.

    And through trial and error and all the consequences presented from the two, we made life less difficult, and filled with less pain.

So now our problems are solved,

    because the problem is no longer to solve,

    it's to know the solution.

    Now the intelligent know the answers,

    but not the steps.

    Our numbers add up but we don't know why.

    And as time goes on we solve more questions and find more answers until finally, one day, we never ask.

    But not because the questions aren't there,

    it's because we no longer need to acknowledge them.

    It's an endless trail leading to the disappearance of originality. For now we no longer create, we recreate,

    the artist no longer paints, he reproduces.

    And knowing how to use our world and our creations is the importance, No longer is it control and understanding of that we don't understand.

We stand on the shoulders of giants to fly,

    relearning what our ancestors have learned,

    but without the sacrifices it took to learn it.

    we gain the power without the discipline,

    given a gun without reason not to use it,

    not understanding the destructive capabilities it has

    until we no longer need to find, we simply learn,

    and that is inevitable.

It's a balance that rotates, one rises, then falls.

    Like a recession of our morals while a rise in the prosperity of our prosperity. But what should happen when we reach the peek of our cycle,

    when one day the decline happens and we have to refresh, back to the beginning? What should we do if we find ourselves with no solutions, no answers? Will we have the strength to ask the questions, but also make the effort to solve them? Or will only a newer generation, born into the world without, have the only chance of survival?

    So for now, I watch the creator die, while growing up in the world in control of the user. But the embers on his life are no where near cold, they burn strong and bright, and I am left with every confidence that through the ashes of his inevitable death, he will rise like a phoenix and shine bright giving us hope.

    The hope to destroy ourselves again.

A place to be me

    by Krstyal Cavert

    Sometimes I feel left behind, sometimes I feel like I‟m ahead.

    Other times I‟m soaring in my own land.

    From were I‟m free from all this hurt.

    Where I soar above everything, the clouds are my home, never to leave me behind. Awakened by your love A place to sleep, by Rachel Swan when I‟m tired. A place to soar, As I wake from my sleep when I need to fly. And look up from my bed A place to be free, I see you there when I feel contained. This is what I dreamed of A place to be myself, But now it‟s real when I am not wanted. Yours truly, the one for me A place to be me, You stroke my hair and smile at me I am free! Standing in front of my bed Looking down into my eyes Day of silence I get up and you take me in your arms by Krystal Cavert I hold you tightly Never wanting to let go Today is a day, You look into my eyes, were all is quiet. I get lost in yours. But some aren‟t, A feeling, a safety washes over me some don‟t know, This feeling I wish could last forever some don‟t care. Your smile brightens my day. But we, the rejected, The same smile that I will love forever. stand together. You take me by the hand We are the silence. and bring me in to a world We are quiet, that I once feared for we need to be heard. But now I have you by my side, For all to hear, I do not fear this world or the people in it we are quiet. As long as I have you, To speak, the only thing I fear is losing you to be quiet. Is this what love feels like? To understand, A feeling of safety, what we are doing. a feeling of trust. Please let us be free, A feeling of happiness that fills me. please let us be safe. Are you my love? We are the silence, The one that I have been looking for that is never heard. Please say that I am not wasting time loving you But today we are, After all this time together we are the voices. I don‟t think my heart could mend from that tragedy

    The loss of your children Anger is Like… by Leah Kelly by Kaylee Goerl The slaps in the face, It is 2:00 in the morning, the hurtful words, and Melissa is sneaking back the smell of alcohol, into her room through the window. and the lonely nights. Her mother walks into her room, The court dates you missed, sees her halfway in the house the hurtful memories, and halfway out. the rivers of tears, and the forgotten appointments. She creams at Melissa. The drugs you did, And grounds her for a month. the lies you told, the screaming every night, It is 8:00 in the morning. and the disappointment in me. Melissa is at school in math class. The childish games, She gets her test back, a big F. the non existent love, She hits her hand hard on the desk, the horrifying names, making a loud noise. and the invasion of privacy. The put downs about me, It is 3:00 in the afternoon. the disgusting thoughts, Melissa walks down the empty hallway. the guilt trip you gave me, She hears laughing and whispering. and the father I never had. It is her boyfriend and another girl.

     He doesn‟t see her, and she runs home.

    She cries and cries, tasting her salty tears as they run down her mouth.

    Her boyfriend comes over later that night. She doesn‟t say anything to him.

    But, she kisses him with a lot of tension, with all of her anger built up inside. She holds him, still with the anger built up.

He leaves.

The next day she dumps him.

    She tells him everything she saw the other day. She sees his sweatshirt lying on her bedroom floor. She holds it tight breathing in the smell of his cologne,

    and Melissa cries herself to sleep.

Cubical Anger

    by Tara Vondracek

Watching and waiting for a break from his absurdity.

    Peering over the shoulders of myself, analyzation glares straight back. The television screen says Happy Days.

    Unlike the situation.

    He thinks he is right, but he is only lying to himself.

    My feelings hung from his wall by their dignity, trying to get down and into his head. Our arguments are stuck in the mud; I wish it really would affect him. Black words draping across my eyes, taking moments away in the afternoon hours. Yellow dishes shutter with the hope not to be picked, he thinks he is in control.

Watching and waiting for a break from his immaturity.

    Glancing at the mechanics of myself, annoyance glares straight back. The book cover says Picture Perfect.

    Unlike the situation.

    He thinks I am content; hate is too weak of a word.

    My emotions are abused with slaps of insult; I try not to let him see me move a wince. footsteps race to the center of the neighborhood to escape from his yells. Under dressed and under privileged, him not giving me a chance to do right. Whiney voices stuck in my head like two plus two is four.

Watching and waiting for the time to leave.

    Searching around the knots and zippers of myself, anger glares straight back. The card says I am Sorry.

    Unlike the situation.

    He pretends the frustration leaves, but it just eats me up inside out. The bright light absent above his head clues of his father.

    Confusion and frustration leading nowhere, he is no more then simply the act of an illusion.

    Lying and judging surrounds our ending credits of our daily lives.

We Come For Him Now

    by Wade Yohr

We Diverged from Our Master, Our Lord, Our King and

    We come for Him now, as True Believers.

     He is the One who lead us from the brink,

     The One who we Honor and Follow,

     The One who stole Our Land and Our Families to give us Power.

     We come for Him now, as not but Whisper of a Shadow in the Dark of Night.

     We come for Him now, and we come to take what is Ours‟ and no longer Yours‟.

     We come for Him now, soft and swift.

     We come for Him now; for Him and for Your souls.

Earth Quake

    by Paul Meigo

So this is how this world of mine ends.

    To have been drifting and broken apart from those I called friends. How can it be so all I do is try to be good?

    I gave and gave all that I possibly could.

    Why is it me whose shoulders there pain and woe?

    Then who is it I am supposed to turn to for my pain and for any to show. The ground is shaking now before me.

    Cracks come forth here and they‟re spreading like the arms of a tree.

    They get wider as my heart breaks and my mind shatters. They open up to take me and nothing else matters,

    I am alone hanging by this so called branch attached to a ledge. Looking for some way to reach up to the ledge.

    I call and yell the names of those I knew to be dear.

    But I knew even for me they‟d never come rescue me here.

    I am just some one to vent out their frustrations and make it better. Someone to make there problems disappear to the letter. They only want me when they need me for some apparent reason good only to them. Then they discard me and put me aside like some gagged up phlegm. I fear not this way of woe.

    For this all in all is the way the world must go.

    So I accepting my fate here in the crevice, and so I take a breath. Let go of the branch that is keeping me from my death, and dive deep into this abyss.

    Never knowing what it is I will miss.

.

     True Friends

     by Erik Jackson

     When you‟re feeling down they want to know who they have to beat down and find a way to

     turn your frown upside down. When you get locked up they find who got you locked up. When you get into a fight somebody gonna get messed up that same night. When they got money you got money. True friends help you when you‟re blue and always stay true no matter what you do. True friends will be with you until the end.

    That‟s what you call a true friend.

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