Wednesday, October 24, 2007

A Poem by Mariana Valle-Mesen

The prisoner by the window

Gets the motivation needed

Concluding to return to bed

Thinking about his servants back home

He holds his crucifix to be strong

While loneliness brings back memories

Speaking now to himself,

Pride, fate, and history seem lost.


Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

A Poem by Lakita Davis

Helpless and overpowered

Deception and doubt hover over me

Struggling on desperate straits

Cautious menial idolatrous feelings

With disfavoring essence and

Tangible

At midnight,

Glory is fate.



Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

A Poem by Jessie Peterson

There was silence in the air,

An empty feeling of nothing,

A snowy feeling of shivering coldness,

Time passing by so slowly,

And then eventually the sunshine is up,

An odd unfamiliar feeling,

The feeling of insanity,

And thoughts and mindlessness,

The dusty air passing through time,

And then it’s all over and done with.



Inspired by page thirty-seven

of Ray Bradbury’s

Fahrenheit 451

A Poem by Meagan Borrego

Prisoner down the stairs

Peering out

Conviction of helplessness

Overpowered

Look, think, mad

Timed rat

Quietly life best done

Still yet definite conclusion

Ideas imprisoned himself

Trusted facts




Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

A Poem by Maria Hernandez

Conviction of my helplessness overpowered

Life

Imprisoned

My

Knowledge

My fears

Fright

The giving of the Crucifix

Loneliness and trouble

Tangible help

Memories of sympathy

I must find

Glory

Fate


Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

A Poem by Audrey Abeyta

I – a prisoner

Wild feeling over me rushed

Peering, I found conviction

And helplessness over-

powered all other feelings.

Mad conviction had come quietly

Life was still and definite, certain

I am imprisoned with motives


Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

A Poem By Brandon Meyer

Laughing, joking,

Roaring with accusation,

Bombarded with light

An open rush blazed in his mind.

Wild devotion with insanity of mindlessness

Curiosity was trembling.




Inspired by page thirty-seven

of Ray Bradbury’s

Fahrenheit 451

"I'm Wild" by Michael Keith

I’m wild

Never feel rushed

Never am overpowered

Never think

Come up with my own conclusions

Trust and assured of myself

Have strength

In my own King


Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

A Poem by Francisco Moo

I found, I was a prisoner

A Sort of wild feeling, that

Rushed up and down, the

Conviction of my Helplessness

That overpowered me

All feelings,

As I look back have been

Time

As I convicted to be,

Were helplessness.

As quietly done,

In my life, began to think What

Is best,

Thinking still as yet

No definite conclusion, but Yet

One thing only, my ideas Known,

But imprisoned, which has Doubts,

By its own motives that Would

Fully and to my fears

My Eyes open, being Deceived, has cursed Desperate straits, which I Need,

And shall need,

All to Conclusion

And I know

That only confirmation is surely it is

Proof, that all people Have Been taught to Regard, a Whole History about, Grasping over

Own pride, their glory, His Glory

Explained by saying my name is pride, and pride is my glory.


Inspired by Bram Stoker’s Dracula

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Poem by Daija Whittington

While spoiling myself with laughter and jokes

I’m accused of being happy.

I shake off all of the irritation of everything.

Fluttering in the light, snowy but delicate

I rush into the sunshine.

I devote myself to magazines, they’re dusty

But the curiosity is trembling.


Inspired by page thirty-seven

of Ray Bradbury’s

Fahrenheit 451

Friday, April 13, 2007

Dots By Janel Raab

Small dots on the ceiling,
hold and quench my boredom;
counting everyone,
as the teacher drones on.

Some are bigger than others,
some are not whole,
but everyone is counted;
only to entertain
my own curious mind,
because

Small dots on the ceiling
hold and quench my boredom;
counting everyone,
as the teacher drones on.

Maze By Janel Raab

Never ending; I walk
through the maze of life,
twisting and turning
this way and that,

Is there even an end?
Was there a beginning?

Never ending; I walk
through the maze of life

River By Janel Raab

Life is like a river, always changing never stopping
It has bends and dams to flow through
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow
It is always different as the water flows
Never knowing where or when it will end
Sometimes rough, sometimes smooth
It can stay on a marked path or create a new
Maybe joining up with others or maybe running alone
Sometimes muddy, sometimes clear
Could help create life, or could destroy it one sweep
Towards the end all rivers will meet
At the same place, though at different times
Sometimes cold, sometimes warm
And eventually all will be swallowed up by the ocean

How To Be A Pirate By A. Naval Officer By Janel Raab

Acquire a large galleon with many cannons
Be able to swim
Drink grog, LOTS of grog
Be able to climb like a monkey up rough rope rigging
Learn to fire cannons without blowing yourself up
Eat a lot of fruits but always do it in the dark

How To Play Chicken by A. Vulture By Janel Raab

Eat plenty of food before you play
Make sure the cars are at least ten times your size
It is always safe if a friendly vulture is watching
Never jump out of the way trains and cars always stop
Play mostly in the dark
However don’t play if you’re a cat with nine lives

Gun by Janel Raab

Hearing a crash and a bang, I froze cold in my tracks. I waited with only eerie silence in my ears. Nothing else was heard. Yet, I could still sense something watching me, so I waited. Finally a brown cat crept out of a trashcan. It turned and laid eyes upon me, and scurried away. I breathed again. Once more I picked up the trail of the king’s guards. I moved cat-like through the back alleyways of the twisted city. I was catching up to them. I was faster than them. Though they had a hard time navigating through the fog, but I could see perfectly. Within thirty seconds I would be able to touch them, and so it was. The two men I was chasing were both burly, yet not very bright. They thought they could get away with anything. My goal was to save the frightened boy they were planning to sell as a slave.

Oh, how foolish, I forgot to introduce myself. They call me Gun, the protector of the poor. I’m one of those people you would find on a wanted poster; loved by the people, despised by the government. I help anyone I can, except the corrupted king and his officials, which I’m trying to eliminate. This causes me to always be on the run and don’t often have time for meals. Also cause me to have no home or family, though I do have a few friends. But no matter what, I’ll always help people. Though I never went to school, and can’t read or write; I can fight! And you better say your prayers, if you’re my target, and I find you in some dark alley.

I didn’t rush at them. I had to plan my rescue carefully. It had to be quick and simple. With my eerie golden yellow eyes I spotted a metal pole that was lying next to an empty trashcan and picked it up. I felt its weight in my hand. It was rusty and bent, but it would work. I then took a different direction; I was going to cut them off. Stealth and speed were my specialties. I hid behind a cardboard box and waited. Though I am only five feet tall, the box wasn’t tall enough to give me full cover. My black hair could barely be seen over the top of the box. I didn’t wait long when I heard the men’s heavy footsteps approaching. They passed my box. They would see me plainly, if they turned around. So I whistled one sharp, calling note. Together the two men quickly turned and saw me, sitting against the box with the rusty metal pole in my hands. I was the same boy that they had a grapple with at the farmhouse earlier, and manage to escape from or so they thought.

It only took me seconds, to dash behind them and whacked them with the pipe. They went out like lights. With lightening speed I grabbed the unconscious boy that they were carrying. I laughed silently; my job was amusing. I splashed water, from my canteen, over the boy’s face. His eye lids fluttered. Once awake, he started asking questions. But I sat quiet. After he fell silent I began to explain that I saved him from the king’s official guards.

The small boy looked at me with sorrowful eyes. He was tired and hungry. He was probably only six and no bigger than a water barrel. He had sandy blond hair and deep blue eyes. He told me his name was Dan and that he had no family since the king’s guards had killed his parents for not paying their taxes. Just great, I now realized I had an orphan to care for!
I felt obligated to help this child since I had arrived at the farm too late to save his parents. I took him to the home of my friend, John, who gave him a meal. Seeing that Dan was content, John turned to me. He tried to clean me up, but I refused. I only had a long, shallow cut on my neck given to me by one of the guards when we had wrestled earlier. After our meal, I took Dan to the park and made him a bed of leaves at the base of my favorite tree, and I would rest above him in the tree’s limbs. However, I couldn’t stand the small boy’s crying so I ended up moving him up to my limb and I perched myself on a smaller one. I wasn’t complaining. Through the years, I have slept in all kind of places.

Once I slept in a hotel called “Jail”. However, the service wasn’t very pleasing to me. They actually locked you inside your room and there were bars on the window. Also, the food was fifth class. So, the next morning the guards awoke to find me gone; with an unconscious guard in my bed, a set of keys missing, and every room of an unjustly trialed peasant empty as my tip. It was one of my funnier stories.

Dan and I spent three days together! I could have never imagined what it was like to have a companion. I found it all to my liking; someone to talk to; someone to share a laugh with; someone who was just there when you need them. We spent much fun fishing in the Danube River, watching the wooden barges moving their trade up and down the river. He and I had great laughs together.

However, our time together was too short and it was a shock to all what happened next. It started when Dan and I decided to wander the streets of the market plaza. Noon found me with nothing to feed Dan and he was hungry. So, I targeted a bread stand. I told Dan exactly what to do. While I distracted the bread seller, he would steal the bread.

It would have been easy, except for one slight problem. As Dan reached for the bread, two guards approached. These were the same guards I had knocked out to save Dan’s life. Right away they recognized Dan and grabbed him by the wrist. Dan screamed and struggled. I was engaging the salesman, when I heard Dan’s cry. Immediately I tried to reach him, but all was in vain. This time I didn’t have the element of surprise.

I knocked down the guard who was holding Dan; however the second guard caught Dan before he ran away. I threw a punch at the second guard’s head, as he swung his foot to my gut. Unfortunately I received the full kick, and doubled over. It took me a few minutes to recover. Then I remember the small handgun hidden on my belt. Like lightening I pulled it out and took aim. However, before I could pull the trigger, I felt something smash against my head and everything went black.

When I awoke it was already night. I found that a crowd had mobbed the guards after I was knocked out. They were able to drag me away, but couldn’t save Dan. I was told that Dan had been taken to the king. Dan was immediately condemned to die by firing squad at sunrise. I only had a few hours to do something. I ran to John and quickly explained my plans. When I told him my plan, he shook his head at me. I had to agreed, it was a foolish plan, but it was the only thing I could come up with. I had no time, and I was going to save Dan no matter what the cost.

When we arrived near the Death Post, there was a crowd gathered around waiting to see the small boy’s execution. The guards dragged out the small form of a boy, and the king, himself, following right behind. I was nervous, but I had to do it; it was the only way to save this boy, who meant so much to me. The king started to give the order to kill the boy, when I shouted for him to wait. The king jumped at the sight of me. I told him that I had something very valuable to say. He reluctantly told me to speak.

I told him that I would take Dan’s place, if he promised to let Dan go. The king laughed, the trade was all in his favor. I was a large prize with a huge price on my head, and the boy was worthless. If he accepted my offer, he wouldn’t have to pay the bounty price for me, and I would still be dead. He asked if I was going to try to trick him, but I assured him by lying flat with my stomach on the ground. He ordered the guards to release Dan and chain me instead. Once free, Dan ran into John’s open arms. The guards chained me brutally, giving me a bloody lip and a cracked rib.

As they marched me to the post I shouted at Dan, “Friends help friends, through good and bad; even to the death. Thanks for being my friend!”

I was chained to the post, and the firing squad loaded their guns. I looked into Dan’s face and winked. John turned Dan away, and taking him by the hand, walked away. I smiled to myself, that boy was my only family. I was proud to take his place. I turned my head and saw that had sun broken over the horizon. Just as the first rays of light crept toward me, the triggers were pulled and the guns fired. I regret nothing.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

The Cross by Janel Raab

Jesus,
I look upon the cross and think.

WHY?

WHY did the Son of God become man?

WHY did He come to this earth?

WHY did He die for us?

Then it became clear as I looked upon the cross.

God had given us a perfect world;

Where a lion and sheep played together;

Where the fruit was plentiful;

Where the water was sweet.

NO sin; NO pain; NO want; NO need; NO death; NO suffering

It was all there, everything our hearts would desire.

BUT NO!

Human want, human need, human pride, human weakness got in the way.

Our ancestors, Adam and Eve, gave in to him, SATAN!

They disobeyed God by letting Satan trick them into eating the apple.

Bringing SIN; DEATH; HATERED; PAIN; SUFFERING

Back into the world.

Because of them the gates to heaven were closed.

Then You came into the world, Jesus.

You showed us how to act, talk, and to pray.

You told us what God wanted of us.

But, our sins still had to be paid for.

You showed the people love, but they unjustly took you to Pilot.

You were whipped and crowned with thorns.

They mocked You and spat upon Your face.

Then You were brought to a crowd who called for Your death

“CRUCIFY HIM, CRUCIFY HIM”

A cross was placed upon Your shoulders, and You carried it to a hill.

Nails were driven into Your hands and feet, and then You were raised on that cross.

They were still mocking You, placing a sign above You that said, “This is Jesus, the king of the Jews,” They also yelled at You, “If You are the Savior sent by God, then save Yourself.”

You died giving Your soul to God.

I was mad at the people; didn’t they know that they were killing an innocent man?

I was angered; if only they knew that You were the Son of God, they wouldn’t had killed You, or spat in Your face.

But then I look back to the cross and realized;

That it was not the people long ago who crucified You.

No, oh No.

IT WAS I

It was my sins which spat at Your face, which cut Your flesh, which forced You to carry that cross. It was my sins which made the cross so heavy upon Your shoulders. It was my sins that were driven into Your hands and feet.

It was my sins which caused You to die.

Now I look at the cross and think that if You could go through being made fun of, at Your time of death, and be mocked and spat upon; I can go through my rough times too; and offer them to You.

THAT IS WHY YOU CAME, JESUS.

To free us from sin

To open the gates of heaven

Because You loved us, You gave up everything for us, even Your life.

So, please forgive me for causing You so much pain and help me to try harder to carry my small cross just like You carried Yours to the hill of Golgotha to be crucified.

Monday, March 26, 2007

The Casualty of the Innocent by Eric Garcia

Sweat fell from Tom’s face as he was whipped brutally. Tom and twenty-nine others are slaves to the “human devil”, a planter who has an extreme odium against African Americans. The planter laughed at Tom as he scoured to get out of the way of a hook tipped whip.

Hank was the planter’s name, Hank Stevenson. He bought the slaves and Tom at an auction for twenty dollars. Ever since one of the slaves refused one of his orders, he has been whipping all of the men. He has also violated all of the womans’ privacy and has been poorly feeding their children.

Hank’s neighbor, a Yeoman, is one of the kindest persons in the valley. His name is Peter Nelson and is a very close friend of Hank. To his experience, he knows that Hank is a real cruel, mad man. He had been secretly feeding Hank’s slaves. Until one day when he was caught and threaten to death by Hank himself.

Another man, a free slave named John Jams, also visits Hank’s slaves, but for a different reason. Tom is his younger brother. He has been given them information about a rebellion. Besides this rebellion he is saving money to buy all of the slave’s freedom, but while he has twice as much money as Hank bought them, Hank refuses to every offer he makes.

As days went by, punishment got worse. The planter once found a slave that had money that he had stolen from him to buy food for his baby. To this the planter reacted very hostel and the next day Hank cut of the slave’s thumbs with the sharpened coins he stole, in front of every one of his slaves’ eyes. He also nailed three nails in a woman’s ear for receiving earrings from a rival white man. Tears of pain and anger ran down Tom’s face as he heard the screams of every painful action that took place. Tom had hoped that all of that would end when John gave the final news of the rebellion.

John brought the rest of the news. A man named Nat Turner had seen a sign from God. He and his group were going to kill as many slave owners as they could. To this Tom felt his anger run through his veins. That evening all of the men planed the planter’s significant death that would happen that night. Finally the time came, the moon rose and with it fell with the night’s shadows. Breaking a rusted old lock with rocks, they got the weapons Hank used on them. They crept into the planter’s room. They quietly circled him. Tom believed that his pain, anger, and life was going to be relieved that poignant night. In less than three minutes it was over. Tom turned to leave and as he did he spotted the neighbor’s face in the window. Dark as his own, a painful look. While Tom was in shock, he disappeared with Tom future.

Tom stared at Peter Nelson with anger as police placed a rope around his neck. John begged and cried to the police that it was an accident and that they didn’t do it. Tom heard this, and inside himself he laughed and knew that that night did happen, it was embedded in his soul. The support piece of wood was pulled and the last thing Tom heard and saw was the grin and the laugh of the planter’s neighbor. In less than three minutes he and all of the men died of suffocation. After that came the sorrowful death of the innocent women and children. This event is known as homicide of the innocent.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

A March to Remember by Matthew Sadlowski

One time in eighth Grade, something horrible happened. Every day, my mom would pack a lunch in a bag for me. I packed my lunch inside my backpack but I got sick and did not eat it that day and I did not go to school for three days. During this time, it festered. When I returned to school, I had forgotten about it. People started saying that I smelled like rotten meat. My stuffy nose cleared and I did.

That same month, something else that was bad happened. Every time that the bell rang and our break was over, we would go and line up and wait to be led back to the classroom by our teacher. During this time a bird tagged my head. It bounced off and landed inside my shirt. It took me fifteen minutes to clean it out in the bathroom. Two days later another bird, or maybe the same bird tagged my head during break while I was reading. Maybe birds don’t like me.

This was very strange. All of these events occurred during what I believe was the month of March. That was a funny coincidence. Or was it a coincidence?! I will always have to be careful on March.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

The Soldier by Matthew Sadlowski

In battle, a soldier clutches his gun.
Ordinarily, he would run.
All around are the sounds of shooting,
yet solemnly he fulfills his duty.