STAFF

Angie Andrade

Gloria Barrett

Shannon Chalmers

Catherine Colby

Sam Diggins

Zoe Fraize

Brittany Herrmann

Kaley Jean

Maddie Kelly

Lois Johnston

Summer McPherson

James Mello

Julia Olsen

Kyran Searles

Olivia Wood

Editor

Kaylee Levine

Cover Art

Jessica Silva

Advisor

Naomi Halvorson

Special Thanks

Larry Brown

Ken Johnson

Jan Moynihan-Cooney

Table of Contents

Ally Atkinson……..38

Hana Bafageeh……..6

Gloria Barrett……..17

Madison Bayes……..43

Sydney Bishop……..34

Kelly Boland……..43

Kelly Bourque……..5, 15

Kajsa Buckard……..8

Jessica Bulow……..10

Catherine Colby……..43

Jesse Covatis……..4

Matthew Daneau……..14

Cheyanne DeMattia……..29

Hannah DeSimone……..42

Sam Diggins……..40

Maisie Elias……..27

Amanda Falcone……..37

Brittany Fisher……..41

Kasey Foster……..24

David Gain……..25-26

Trevor Gay……..22

Taylor Gilliam……..38

Kelsea Goodrow……..42

Andrew Glick……..31

Naomi Halvorson……..16

Brittany Herrmann……..35-36

Kaley Jean……..19

Lois Johnston……..20

Sierra Jones……..13

Maddie Kelly……..39

Kaylee Levine……..18, 42

Raithe Liberty……..23

Isabella Lyonnais……..4

Julia Olsen……..37

Jackie Petrocelli……..9

Jennifer Petz……..21

Kyle Sanborn……..11-12

Sarah Sibley ……..32

Elizabeth Tibbitts……..30

Joe Valley…….. 28

Josh Vitchkoski……..33-34

Tabby Whatcott……..31

Grace Zona……..7

4

Fist

So much depends

upon

The thick red liquid

that

The fist in

our chests

Pumps through our

Empty veins

-Jesse Covatis

A New England Moment

It was a misty October morning and I was walking home from a nearby

store. Out of the corner of my eye I saw rows of large red apple trees

and a snoozing barn across the field. It was so quiet, I could almost

hear the flowers awakening to the sunrise. The only sound around was

the cooing of morning doves. Suddenly, the gentle meek smell of

woodstove filled the air, and was wisped around by the cool brisk

breeze.

-Isabella Lyonnais

5

Darkness Emptiness

Pain it

sneaks right through

a Down

ward spiral (a Bro

Ken snail shell)

Beautiful Illusion

through blurred vision

(behind my Tears)

life twists and turns (a

Fatal tornado)

DisTortEd DReAm

Illusion of my Nightmare

f

a

l

l

i

n

g A

MAELSTROM of Pain and

Misery

Nothingness

Beginning of the

End. -Kelly Bourque

6

Since When

I can remember being little

and not able to see above the kitchen counter.

Since when have I gotten so tall?

Or when I kissed my daddy before work everyday

just for good luck.

Since when have those cheeks turned

to other lips?

I used to love going to Grama and Gramps house

where we would play in the park.

Since when have they ever slept

for this long?

We would have family reunions

and talk about what happened while being young.

Since when has that age

tripled?

They said to savor the years that I’m young

but I’d never listen.

Since when have I missed those years

they call childhood?

-Hana Bafageeh

7

My Personal Anthem I believe we take what we have for granted. Overlooking the good that we do have and focusing on the bad. I think we all need to start moving. moving forward. Moving our attention to what we have. Families are like wolves. We stick together in packs, together as one. Many people don’t have families; just lone wolves. Taken, lost or destroyed. America’s rights, the rights of America our ability to go to school, we complain, while other countries are thirsty for education. Freedom. Freedom is like the wind, It blows right past us, and we don’t even know it’s there. Our freedom to safely walk outside our homes. The freedom to have a home. I believe we need to open our eyes, take a look around us. See what we do have instead of what we don’t. Taking advantage of what’s there instead of what’s not. We don’t realize the real beauty of America, and all of its grand abilities. So take a moment. Breathe out the bad. Inhale the good. Take a look around you, A real, good look. You may find yourself, seeing what you hadn’t seen before. -Grace Zona

8

Lily of the Valley

I believe.

I believe life is like a set of stairs.

Nobody can build it

from the top down.

All of us have to start from the ground-

work ourselves up

I believe each of us can get up there

touch the sky

and visit the sun

I believe each of us start on the same level.

I believe we can’t start to build

until we find ourselves.

I believe each of us need the same thing.

I believe health is the golden key.

I believe life is like the bells on a lily of the valley-

one bell does not create the flower,

you need all of them.

Therefore,

I fight as the lion

So I can swim as a swan.

I value to the ability to play with my future kids.

I value a high powered job and always

letting my creativity dance with the wind.

I believe in the strong heart and

amazing health

to be the key

to the purest love.

Therefore,

9

Sunset Sea Navigating the D e P t H s of the once beautiful sea, Under (suffocating) neath struggle to find a single HAND: to pull you up. the violet sky so close… inches to surface. a reach to you, but it is of contrary purpose. Pulled down. Goodbye sunset sea. -Jackie Petrocelli

10

A Mountain

A mountain is a sea of Blue,

(Whirling up and

Down

To and fro)

Rippling like a tide.

Reaching for heaven

(and formed a long

Time ago)

A mountain stands still.

A mountain has dips and peaks

(running up and

Down

Across the land)

Like a wave in the ocean

Blue

-Jessica Bulow

11

Finding Myself

I have found myself

being on the stage.

My guitar is my only companion.

Fingers numb, sweat dripping down my face,

I feel so alive.

I find the fan size growing,

Getting the recognition I wanted.

My career finally takes off.

At least that’s what I thought.

All I see is hate

entering the industry.

A heavily guarded city

among the bright stars.

I can see in the distance.

I have to build a bridge

across the river of subpar.

Everything is behind me.

I am chained to wall,

only taking advice from them.

To the royalty no one can avoid,

I devote my time.

I cover song after song,

It will never work.

I pick my favorite song,

I have tried it before,

but let the lover’s luck be left alone.

I try time after time,

I am blinded by the light,

it was only a dream.

(continued on the next page)

12

It was only a dream,

I am blinded by the light.

I try time after time,

but let the lover’s luck be left alone.

I have tried it before.

I pick my favorite song,

it will never work.

I cover song after song.

I devote my time

to the royalty no one can avoid

only taking advice from them.

I am chained to wall,

everything is behind me.

Across the river of subpar,

I have to build a bridge.

I can see in the distance,

among the bright stars,

a heavily guarded city.

Entering the industry,

all I see is hate.

At least that’s what I thought.

My career finally takes off,

getting the recognition I wanted.

I find the fan size growing.

I feel so alive.

Fingers numb, sweat dripping down my face.

My guitar is my only companion.

Being on the stage,

I have found myself.

-Kyle Sanborn

13

Anxiety I don’t want to be bad again, Yet is it fair that all I want is to move breath feel live unrestricted But something inside me holds me down screaming “You Can’t” into my face & every waking moment I am fighting a demon. Wanting to speak but he holds my tongue searching for a lifeline, No longer a reason to keep rising My hands are bruised & slipping No matter how much I claw this chasm still tries to engulf me while he strapped a burden to my back vultures waiting mind caving. There’s a little yellow sun drop in my grasp promising light a smile a laugh but it’s really all deceit with a crutch Killing off bits of my soul as I dive deeper Into an Oceanic abyss pressure further down blurring my vision with an attractive silence,… Every Morning I fight this battle with every breath I’m taking I am suppressing the shaking Straight to my core I desire to be better end the battle. Yet he’s back tugging my hair pulling my clothes while all my energy, my whole being goes into a tiny almost inaudible whisper “Yes I can.” -Sierra Jones

14

The Cycle

A cycle starts and ends, through time and space, its lasting

impressions never ceasing nor yielding. Some cycles are deadly, full

of mistreatment and perhaps one of the most difficult to break, like

one attempting to push back the currents of the ocean. I had the

misfortune of seeing its effects quite recently. The situation went

like this:

The voices heard were of tongues I knew of others long

ago. Time passed slowly, and the world around me seemed to blur.

It was the Cycle. My fellowmen and classmates had become what

they had once despised. Oh, what irony these people were

fulfilling! It was The Cycle, The Cycle. For a moment, I remembered

the beginning of the school year of 2011, when I was a freshman. It

was then, on the first pep rally of the year, when the booing of the

classes standing before me was like a direct slap in the face. It was

The Cycle, The Cycle.

As I returned from this flashback, I looked at the freshman

in a sudden realization. That soon, they would be like my

fellowmen, and I was once like them, and they will cause The Cycle,

The Cycle. How strange a concept! The victims become the

supporters, and supporters create the victims, in one deadly, deadly

Cycle. Then, without fully realizing what I was doing, I began to clap,

clapping as raucously as I could. A friend of mine (I do not

remember which) put his hand on my shoulder, and said something

to me. I could not hear what he said, but his meaning was clear;

STOP.

-Matthew Daneau

Strawberry Lip Gloss

Strawberry lip gloss perfects the smile

each tear hides behind

But these gaping wounds will never fade from

red to pink

The darkness lurking inside bursts

Seeping through sweaty pours

scorching me from the inside out

The stains on my naked skin reveal

the scalding heat beneath me but nothing,

not the darkest red crimson or the brightest

crystal tear, dare to compare to the chasm

inside me.

This so called life a metal bullet rips through

each fiber of my being

Muscles Tearing

heart beating

heart bleeding

not a reason to keep breathing

crimson chest

purple lips

distant eyes

bloody hips

lights die out there’s nothing left but the slowing

beats of my crying heart

each beat weaker then the last

until the very sounds of life itself

is but the faint tick tock of the

broken clock

slowing

slowing

until stop

time runs out and all that's left

is a broken body smudged with running

mascara and puffy cheeks but no

one dares to look past the

strawberry lip gloss. -Kelly Bourque

15

16

A Supermarket in My Dreams

I have a book that defines dreams.

Dreams of falling mean a loss of control.

Dreams of flying mean freedom and power.

Dreams of great grams happily cooking

in her steamy warm kitchen symbolize

feelings of safety and security.

I do not have those dreams.

I dream of grocery shopping.

Navigating isles of cereal, crackers and paper towels.

Squeezing grapes

Studying apples for bruises

Pitying the lobsters stacked claw to tail

in the murky tank.

It is a reoccurring dream of responsibility

so vivid that, at breakfast,

when I run out of Fruit Loops

I search the pantry – certain I picked up a box yesterday.

No?

Nothing.

Foiled again by the shopping dream.

How terribly boring is my life that

the precious opportunities to live

carelessly, recklessly-

to reach into the deeper realms of my

subconscious desires

results in dreams of double coupons and

Buy one get two free?

So, Whitman, which way does your beard point tonight?

Ginsburg and I are searching for fulfillment and Fruit Loops

In a neon supermarket.

At least you know the questions to ask and

He knows the helplessness of it all.

I, on the other hand, remain oblivious and empty

in the bread aisle

searching labels

for answers I don’t know the questions to.

-Mrs. Naomi Halvorson

17

The Palace of Mist

As you walk among trees in the dark blanket of night you come

across an open air building, large arc like structures make up the walls which

are made out of a black marble ornamented with strange patterns made

from a silver and slightly glowing thread. The floors are a glassy substance,

white and shimmering, seeming fragile but able to hold up to the weight of

many people. A very neat looking garden with a cobblestone path circles

around the front of the building stretching off into untamed wilderness

which seems to fade away as you look farther. As you walk into the building

you notice small bells and wind chimes hung up decoratively around the

space, but not even a lantern to provide light, only the slight glow of the

building's patterns and the starlight act as your guide. Your steps echo in the

almost cavernous amount of space and a low mist wisps around your feet,

engulfing the spaces that earlier footsteps took up.

An eerie feeling sends chills down your back, even though the

building and garden look well kept it doesn't seem as if anyone has

disturbed the hall in ages. You feel welcomed by some unseen force but the

structure still makes you uneasy and causes you to look over your shoulder

constantly. Despite the calm sound of the bells and the distant flowing of a

river the whole area is strangely silent, where you would expect bird calls

and the skittering noises of small animals only silence meets your ears.

Walking along the space seems to never end, it stretches and stretches the

air getting heavier and harder to take in, the glowing patterns seem to fade

away as the mist starts to rise from the floor up to the ceiling with a flowing

reach.

You don't seem to notice however, only concerned with finding the

end to this place and getting to the sound of the river on the other side,

which never seems to get any closer. The sound of the bells seems to now

fade away with the light coming from the structure and you unconsciously

stop in your tracks, the entirety of reality seems to fade away as everything

is shrouded in dark silence and you collapse to the floor.

-Gloria Barrett

18

Tongue Tied Teen

1st

period class

Talk, stutter, babble

Words fly too quickly with no control

I try to hide but I can’t.

The shrink says I’m fine, but I know I’m not.

I can’t speak like you real people.

My brain doesn’t work that fast.

Slurred

Sit, listen, watch.

Silence

Trapped with nowhere to turn

I have a question.

I try to speak but can’t

Jumbled letters

Reversed numbers

A=x or 1=2

I’m never going to know.

3:30 time.

Run home to my safe haven.

There it doesn’t matter.

Security.

Tell me the truth. I’m not fine anymore.

-Kaylee Levine

19

I Remember

I remember the laughs, the joy, the pain,

that we could share on any day.

I remember asking you—never leave me.

and my excitement of seeing you run towards me.

I remember walks around the pond out back,

the sun warming any breeze that came.

But now I just stare from the window.

remembering your shouts of joy in our adventures.

With you it was summer,

bright and green,

But now it is an everlasting winter,

bare and bleak.

You were my best friend,

for as long as I can remember.

And you always will be,

now and forever.

-Kaley Jean

20

Hell in the Blackheart You dragged her away from me She didn’t want to leave Forced against her will To the emptiness of hell I hide among your demons I sense their hunger and obedience Killing love With no love in themselves She belongs here Among the darkness inside her heart Who am I to argue The truth? Still, she looks for me Hoping I will take her away Bring light when it’s already there Taking away her happiness I won’t

Make her look in the mirror Alone Afraid To make matters worse You call upon your minions Closing her in Till she’s had enough When she fights Your demons cringe in pain Then there comes an understanding Between the two Now they’re friends But I still wait For her to understand That I won’t come When she does I see the real girl Less arrogant Aware of her light Now it’s time to go The only thing I hope Is she won’t hold a grudge Over the person Who left her to dust To face Her own black heart -Lois Johnston

21

Lost to the World alone to trudge the world (which is big and terrifying) to think that ) we (matter hopelessly small entirely lost the only company to guide us into the Unknown is the sky of the afternoon yet we are lost (and the sky dark) can we possibly find (or it find us) the way that we seek? there is no bravery or will to create your own path, Only the absence of a path to… …follow and so, like the crystals of the heart (which shine of the colors overhead), we tum- ble into this lost, cold World When did) we (begin the journey upon which) we (hope to matter? no one cannot fathom it enchanting, bewitching stars Forever/flowing/ and shaping sp r e a d in g ou t bre- -aking our chains that (hold) us (( to tight )) and threaten the footsteps behind us; Searching wonderland for a bit of Hope A bit of forgiveness, perhaps some CouRage And we clutch the cage that holds our souls b r e a t h----------- i n g with no such re(lease) the eyes are screaming yearning piercing thro----ugh just for a chance to see But have (i) found what (I) am searching for? -Jennifer Petz

22

A Man in a Blizzard

A trip. A long journey Thinking we’re one but couldn’t be more alone

Over the warm blue waves to find memories of joy and naïve excitement A boy leaves and a dove returns

Letters, Letters, Letters WE wait

i wait and wait

But no more, ended before it began The blue waves froze

Blinded by an invisible force i drove on and on Going into the blizzard alone, trying to save someone who isn’t there

But instead indoors, not knowing the turmoil outside The sting of the cold burns, but i burned stronger

YOU kept me going Both the poison and the antidote What have I become, my dear?

Full of self-delusion and anger, trying to reach out

YOU seemed so close……but yet you were always so far away For four years

What have I become, my dear? With these feelings horrid at times

What happened to the beauty i had inside of me?

Then, from sisters and unchained melodies until the crickets and buzzards hushed and the trees

began to wilt it finally it seemed i found you YOU, the one i had sought after all this time

i got sidetracked along the way and that killed me But, at last, amidst the swirling torrent of snow and ice

there you were Using all the fire left in my aching body

A hand was outstretched to meet yours, but nothing Yet another illusion

You were never within arm’s reach My love, i’m sorry

to have troubled you with this inconvenience For you there was never a blizzard, it never happened

Nothing more than a distant memory by now, a boy who couldn’t move on If i could start again….

I wish you no ill will. i wish you sunny skies and warm weather i wish you someone who will do anything, for the love of his life

i wish you success in everything you do And above all i wish you a good life

Please If nothing else. -Trevor Gay

23

Finally Free – Honoring the Lives of Bully Suicide Victims

I fail to see the complexity of your words.

Filling my mind with unneeded woes.

Killing my sanity.

Defeating my prose.

Ending my world.

Biting my throat.

When honestly, I’m probably the epitome of the weak

Jester of the useless

Lord of the meek.

Feeble attempts of defend my mistakes

Histrionic pleas to keep all that I make

When you –

Stomp me to the ground

Kick me when I’m down

Not a single look from this sadistic town.

Lamentable pities

Grating gears

Wretched cities

Cover my ears from all that I hear

To stop the tears that leer and reveal my fears.

Break my gaze on the last bit of hope

Keeping a sound mind is out of my scope.

I lose my touch

My ears

And my eyes

I’ve finally torn apart the disguise that life hides behind.

To this cruel joke I will never agree.

I’ve paid life’s fee.

And I’m finally

-Free-

-Raithe Liberty

24

The Sweetest Ending

Fall is the moment

Before (you) hit the ground

All the memories flash

In the brightest of colors just

Before they (fade)

The wind is

So cold

But the sun is warm

(and) the clouds are absent.

The candles only (shine) bright enough

To see the immediate path

Leaves have nothing

To ease their fall

But the icy ground beneath

But they jump

To their deaths

Every Year

Just to feel recognized

(one last time)

And deep breaths have never felt so shallow

As the distance to the ground

And you land

In the dullest of ways.

-Kasey Foster

25

My Personal Anthem (Slam Poem)

Why are my hands shaking from just being in front of everyone?

I don’t fear their criticism,

Because they really don’t know me,

So they can’t really judge.

Not that I should care if they do.

Nor do I need their approval,

I don’t care what they think of me,

So why am I so scared?

…

They’re just staring as if I have something important to say,

Like I’m some president they didn’t vote for

Giving a speech on a country we didn’t ask to fight for.

It’s like they stare because they don’t know where else to look,

Because obsessing at the boy shivering at the front of the room

Is far less controversial than staring at each other.

I’m not the voice of reason.

There’s no need to stare at me for the answers,

Because most of the time I’ll just ask you a question in return.

You’re like the small boy on the street corner shouting,

“What will the World do with this Great depression?”

And my only answer will be,

“Do you really care?”

I’m not the voice you hear at the back of your head;

I can’t be if I’m the one who tells not to listen to it.

If they want something soulful they won’t find it from me,

I’m just not the religious type.

Sure an anthem is like a hymn,

But I’m just switching out God for human logic and reason.

I do what I want to just because of that reason alone.

I won’t be stuck on this conveyer belt they have us on,

Forcing us in one direction,

While sticking parts on us that everyone in front of us has,

Reprograming us should we show any signs of uniqueness,

Just to finally force us out into a world we are not ready for,

To solve the problems that we were made for.

My life started out like a steel girder rising to meet the sky,

Forming a building that never asked to be built,

Continued on the next page…

26

That never wanted to be built.

And just before I should pierce the clouds and see a world that I dared to

dream,

I’m stopped short due to government restrictions and fire-code regulations,

Meant for my safety and wellbeing.

I don’t know why they continue to stare at me,

Because I won’t be talking to them anytime soon.

Not until they realize the answer does not lie in my prose,

But inside of them.

Others cannot help you because they do not truly know you.

If you want,

You take.

I just hope they realize this before the world they create,

Is crumbling down around them. I’ll have to move,

Because I don’t think they’ll stop staring anytime soon.

I don’t know what they would think they would get out of me,

By putting me up here.

Unless they assumed my silence would bring them hope.

I won’t say a word to these people,

Until they realize they have the power

To Start the Conversation.

-David Gain

27

Silver Lies (The Great Gatsby)

The grey clouds of dust surround me

As we duck and cover to avoid being seen

Our rifles-our only protection,

The ash-filled ground, our carpet.

But now I walk about the building I live within,

Decorated by silver picture frames and platters

That seem to remind me of satin sheets.

I fix my metal buttoned cuffs

As I walk along the grey cobblestone path.

I finally see her, elegantly positioned by the window.

As she watches the heavy rainfall

Something fell short of what I expected

Her silver necklace seemed to stop shining so bright

Time seemed to take an intermission

The smell of flower filled trees began to fade.

I did not recognize the vibrancy of her eyes as much as before.

So I walked back on the cobblestone path

Towards the place I do not consider home.

A silver palace, a silver tie, a silver life,

Laced with the memory and fear of grey beginnings.

-Maisie Elias

28

18

The Red

Baron,

a childhood of scarlet

flames,

blending

through the years.

Innocence

Reminder

of Christmas.

Family.

A childhood show I watched and

never

grew

too old for.

A little Birdie

A Brother

Guiding

Snoopii

Guiding…

ME

Ambitious

a life looking at

colorful skies

purple, orange, green

and all the others in between

Starting as bright

Shining

Stars

now only dark skies

a faded life

and many scars

No turning back…

Pitch Black

-Joe Valley

29

The Abuse of Paper

The crumpled paper

rolling on the ground

crackling and ripping

while it dodges rocks

Throwing it against the wall

with a slight whack against it.

Alas, someone steps on it

while it loosens and crinkles

until it is

flat.

-Cheyanne DeMattia

30

RUSH I watch as the words dash across the sky in bursting colors. It makes me dizzy trying to read the upward abyss, twirling crashing back down a pen between my fingers. I bite my lip and tap-tap-tap desperate to catch it before it’s I let the words pour down from the sky bright light. silence. crash-boom. Drenched in words dripping down my chin. It makes me scared trying to order the words flooding around my feet, frantically. I bit my bruised lip closed eyes, deep breath deep breath. And continue the work. Piercing together a body for a soul.

-Elizabeth Tibbitts

31

Happiness is...

Happiness is his bright smile that lights not only the room, but also my

heart. It’s his blonde, poufy hair that perfectly frames his face-the picture

of handsomeness. He holds me and I have no troubles. We arrive at a

restaurant where we order up front, and for the order he leaves some

goofy name that is not his own. He knows exactly what I want to eat and

orders for me as I cling to him to stay warm-the cold seems to have

followed us inside. With the buzz of conversations looming all around us,

we sit and find ourselves in a similar state of chatter. Hours dance by,

effortless talk of life and family carries on as the food slowly finds its way

off our plates. We the sit in silence –a sound we can both properly

appreciate-as our dinner settles and we hesitantly prepare to go our

separate ways. But even as we part, happiness remains that unforgettable

“see –you-soon” smile that’s stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, as I

drive away filled to the brim with joy. I know true happiness once again-

thanks to him.

-Tabby Whatcott

Perfection

Unattainable, yet always sought

What pressure it places upon all

Whom seek it.

An immense infinite burden

To all whom strive to be prefect.

An unattainable hinder some goal.

-Andrew Glick

32

Pieces of Me

I am from the pinky promises

Made when childhood was a kingdom

Where nobody died

I am from that killer line I heard every night when my mommy

would tuck me into

bed and say

“I love you and I’m so glad your mine”

I am from the hospital

Where I was born and my mother died

I am from the crystals that fall from the sky

I am from the people who left footprints on me

And swore they’d never leave

I am from the mountains and the snow on the trees

Cigarette burns and empty glasses broken on the floor

I am from the teenage wasteland

We are just water upon the shore

Picture a moment of happiness

A memory with no pain

Stars like shards of broken glass against the black night sky

As you look up and pray

I am from the constant hope that I will be happy one day

-Sarah Sibley

2014 MHS Celebrates Writing Week Winner

33

Perspicacity

Striding, ambling, marching down the shoulders of an untouched mural

in constant pursuit of the She

The horizon.

A constitutional.

Hiking, prancing, traversing in a futile effort to find the freedom

from the man and the motor.

A perambulation.

If I must say it clear, I am walking

No, not clear, not here

It is watching, it is vigilant.

And it is vexation.

It cursed by gob with a strange vernacular

Unlike the blessed ones

Blessed in their ignorance

And I in my sod and dirt and forest and bane and malediction

and damnation and anathema!

Why, Perspicacity!?

Why does it hate me too, Perspicacity?!

Does it indulge its gluttony with my anguish?!

Am I its pleasure in my never ending plight to communicate

to the many, the blessed?!

Did I find it suitable to make myself educated for a purpose long since

perished in it self-gratification?!

And they would never hear the voices of man’s abnormal language

They never did venture out into the horizon

where the man was never heard.

Only question the unknown

For in a small forest in a small walk,

a single man found Perspicacity the tormentor

And Understanding the wrongdoer, and Perception the scourge

continued on the next page…

34

But the blessed are the many

And the many are the blessed

And the many are the ignorant

And the blessed are the stupid

But they are the many

But they are the Earth cycling days

But there is no Perspicacity among them.

-Josh Vitchkoski

Total Relaxation

All I see is crystal clear teal water as I gaze upon an assortment of dazzling

colors on the bushes. Nothing but waves crashing on the sandy white

shore. I close my eyes and let the crumbling thunder of the seas fill my

ears and salt water air fill my nose. The breeze blowing through the trees

tunes everything out. With the sizzling sand beneath my feet I realize the

sand is like my bed, warm and soft and where I always want to be. I make

my way to the ocean and dip my toes into the warm luminous water and

watch the playful waves crash higher and higher. The waves seem to sing

a song as they crash upon the sand. Peering out into the never ending

amazement I step out of the water and the warm breeze turns cool as a

shiver runs over my body.

-Sydney Bishop

Body of Elements

Fire is born in my mouth

It devours me from the inside

and scalds those who scorn me

I try to trap it inside me,

bottle my flames, contain my inner furnace

but it must eventually erupt.

It incinerates those on the receiving end,

and burns them with a fiery passion,

like a volcano of anger.

But after its wrathful storm,

once all has calmed

it becomes a warm and soothing heat.

I use the gentle warmth

to heal the hurt I have caused

and bring serenity and peace

Earth is born in my brain

Its vines are my ever-growing imagination

and flowers are made of kind words.

I try to keep it trimmed and clean

Colorful and bright

but weeds must eventually grow

They infest my mental garden

with hurtful thoughts and sayings

and push against the walls of my brain.

But after I have pulled the weeds

and rid their cruelty from my head

it becomes a glowing garden again.

I think of all those nice thoughts

And the flowers bloom so brightly

bringing me and other happiness.

Water is born in my heart

Where the ebb and flow of waves

is the tide of my emotions. (continued on the next page) 35

36

I try to keep it clam and peaceful

Beautiful and clear and free

but it must eventually flood

It overflows my heart’s walls

bringing with it fierce hurricanes

that spill out of my eyes

But after its harsh barrage

once the pain and sadness has washed away

it becomes a cleansing shower

I wash myself of the bad emotions

and feel happy and refreshed

with the world back in order.

Wind is born in my soul

The zephyrs float on hope

and screeching gales are my freedom

I try to control it in me

Tame the wild beast it has become

but it must eventually escape

Its tornadoes decimate all

Bringing despair and destroying hope

all in one fell swoop.

But after I reign it in

and I have tamed in once more

it becomes a calming breeze.

I rebuild my internal landscape

Piece together futures made from dreams

and feel the soothing winds reassure me.

Fire, earth, water, and air

They all live inside me

and comfort me there.

-Brittany Herrmann 2014 MHS Celebrates Writing Week Winner

37

The Return

Mother sits staring solemnly out the window. Caring for the baby, she’s

thinking about Daddy, I know it. “He’s gone away to war,” she said

once. “He will come back when it’s over,” she said. But Mother…

everyone else has come back. We’ve never a heard word from him. All

I’ve ever seen of him is the picture that stands in the hall. Mother,

Daddy’s not going to come back, is he?

-Julia Olsen

Deep in the Forest

I soak in the damp air as my ears ring with the cheerful chirping

of the crickets. The sweet songs of the birds in the branches

soothe me, as I sit on the cool rocks in the stream. I collect the

cherry red and ballet pink flowers into a small bouquet and I

notice the flopping frogs fleeing from rock to rock in the

stream. They rib-bit and croak, complimenting the birds and

crickets in their chorus. It starts to get chilly as I walk along the

plump path, filled with soft, cool mud. Leaving my sanctuary I

can’t help but feel complete bliss.

-Amanda Falcone

38

The Embrace

Death was a body sitting in a funeral home surrounded by flowers that

provided little comfort. A body that I did not recognize at first due to the

lifelessness that it obtained. A body that belonged to my grandfather.

Someone who would come into my house with open arms to welcome you

with warm hugs. A body that I told my darkest of secrets to, who would

make me feel protected from everything. And as he lay in the funeral home

on that day, he portrayed someone that wasn’t my Pepe. This person

showed fragility that came from the cancer that overpowered him.

Something my Pepe would never show. And as I sat there staring at him, I

truly saw what the beast of cancer could do to a person. I watched hundreds

of people come through the doors to say their goodbyes. I received many

hugs from relatives and friends. But as I received each hug I felt even more

sorrow. And it was then that I realized that the confusion that overcame me

was knowing that the only hug I really wanted would never come.

-Taylor Gilliam

Purr

Happiness is the slow roar of a cat’s purr. He snuggles on your lap

without a care in the world as you absent mindedly stroke the top of

his head, feeling the soft and smooth fur. As his purr becomes louder,

his tail taps to a steady beat. Looking at his face you see the slight

curling of the whiskers while the corners of the mouth rise up into a

trusting smile. After a long day of sun bathing, stalking prey and

squeezing through small spaces he is so tired he could pass out. His

head begins to tuck into his body, tail moves over his eyes, breathing

slows and that loud rumbling purr turns into a quiet snore as he drifts

into blissful carefree sleep.

-Ally Atkinson

39

Rebirth of Earth

Birds return on the

breeze that replaces

winter wind’s harsh burn

the sun will melt

the hearts that

froze themselves

flowers will grow

from stomachs, wrists,

ankles, and elbows

I promise spring will scare the beasts away

Perhaps you will grow bolder

as the warm air

makes peace with your shoulders

and maybe we’ll remember

how to dance

in the thunder

I’ve waited a year

For some form of renewal

Is it here?

Have faith that spring will scare the beasts away

-Maddie Kelly

40

Timeless

I’m old school

And that makes me cool

Black and white and old TV

All that’s old will satisfy me.

Busted amps and broken guitars

The Beatles, Aerosmith, The Cars

It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s rock

The music will make me turn back the clock.

Old Broadway shows feel like new

Camelot, Mame and Star to name a few.

All the game shows—My favorite stars,

Betty White, Lucille Ball, Jack Parr

I’m an old soul in the new age

I think the classics are all the rage

What I like makes me unique

Yes, I know, I’m a retro geek.

-Sam Diggins

41

Where I’m From I am from 2 sets of parents from Mom + Pap and Dad+ Steph I am from “love you more” and “you’re the worst sister ever” from siblings who always fight I am from a best friend who I call my sister from old pictures of cheerleading together I am from too many dogs from Daisy, Bubba, Giselle, and the “little Budooski” I am from 10 crazy aunts and 3 crazy uncles. From too many birthdays to remember. I am from music from long fingers on black+ white keys and vibrating vocal chords I am from pizza and macaroni & cheese from a plate of ketchup with a side of chicken nuggets I am from long hot summer days from swimming, tree climbing, and bikes in the sand pit I am from rock jumping from a pink cast for being careless I am from worms and snakes and the smell of fresh cut grass from grass stains on my new blue jeans I am from late nights waiting for Santa. from impatient kids who opened gifts while mom was asleep. I am from sad and happy memories from memories we want to forget I am from the past, living in the present, dreaming of what is to come. -Brittany Fisher

42

Almost Famous

You may not know me

I might be nothing to you

Someday you will see.

The lights in the big city

Will soon, loudly, call my name

- Kaylee Levine

The Moon is on the Horizon

Raindrops fall swiftly,

Onto bright yellow plastic

Racing down the slide.

-Hannah DeSimone

A Rocky River Bay

Purple water rushes past

Biting ankles with cold teeth

Sparkling with light. —Kelsea Goodrow

43

Eternal Heart Beat ( haiku)

it rises, it falls

hearts beat together in time

his chest against mine

-Madison Bayes

Mouse

Small, chittery

Scurrying, hurrying, stirring.

Runs up a clock

Pouncing, swatting, catching

Big, graceful

Lion

-Kelly Boland

No One Knows

The dark feather falls slowly in the night. Where did it come from,

no one knows. The feather makes no noise in the silent night.

The moon is gone. Where did it go, no one knows. It is gone, but

the ocean still flows. Making no noise in the dead of night. Unlike

the sun who always stays and fights.

-Catherine Colby

Join Merrimack High School’s

Creative Writing Club

Creative Writing Club

Being a member of the MHS Creative Writing Club will give you time,

twice a month after school, to gather with peers who also love to write

and engage in the art of writing together. Advised by creative writing

teacher Mrs. Halvorson, you will be given prompts and writing exercises

to help you break through writer’s block, grow your writing skills and

experiment in different writing genres. You will also be able to

participate in writer’s workshops where you can share your pieces and

receive valuable feedback.

Spilt Ink

Literary Magazine

Spilt Ink is Merrimack High School’s literary magazine where creative

works (poetry, song lyrics, artwork, short stories, narratives…) submitted

by students are published once a year. You may choose to be a member

of the magazine staff in addition to being a writing club member or

remain solely a part of the writing club portion. The Spilt Ink staff reads

submissions, participates in magazine layout, and edits and distributes

the magazine. We also organize the annual Writing Week celebration at

the high school.

Reasons to become a member of the Writing Club and Spilt Ink Literary

Magazine staff:

Flexible meeting times

Various levels of involvement

Looks good on a college application!

Get your work published

Improve your own writing

Surround yourself with a supportive community of writers