Archive for May, 2009

Adventure by Ali Neace

Posted: May 18, 2009 by aneace in Allie

     We decided to take a hike up the mountain. We had done it many times before. The air was humid, typical for a mid-summer’s day. I was aggravated because my nan made me wear sweatpants; I was prone to get poison ivy every time I thought about that waxy four-leafed plant.

     The mountains called to me, however, and I could complain no longer. We started up the path behind my nan’s house: I knew we were in for an adventure, even if we had to make our own. We passed headstones and plastic flowers on our way, for the graveyard was the path.

     Our hike continued in companionable silence most of the time. Eventually we reached the facing of a giant rock formation. We pulled out our rope and pretended to be rock climbers. Once on top, we rested on the edge, looking down on the world we would soon have to re-enter. The orange sun was starting to go down, so we took the fastest route down the mountain. And that was sliding down on our behinds, tons of fallen leaves to cushion.

     When we finally reached our destination, which was the faded bluish-gray house, my nan made me wash off, but she should have known sweatpants wouldn’t keep the oil from that fiendish plant off of me. The itch was nothing new to me, so I put anti-itch cream on and tried not to scratch. Of course my cousin didn’t get it. She was always the lucky one when it came to things like that.

controversial topic by Kelli

Posted: May 18, 2009 by kelliakers in Kelli

Hunting is now such a controversial topic. Its either people 100% disagree, 100% agree, or could honestly care less. I, however, agree with hunting. I love the watching the excitement rise from people from the preparation, scouting, and the final hunt. It’s all so common to me. My dad has hunted for as long as I can remember; I guess someone could say I was raised in the sticks. But, I can’t call myself a hunter, because I’ve only went squirrel hunting a couple times and I was too loud and never killed anything. I can see hunting in my future one day though, especially with a bow. Not so much a gun; they scare me. The pulling back of the string, release on my wrist, finger on the trigger ready to pull. It’s all such a rush to me.

Life’s a chance

Posted: May 18, 2009 by alexbestep in AlexE

Life is a chance

Alex Estep


I have done things that I wish I had not, our minds are made up in a split second and although sometimes we know we shouldn’t do things, we do them anyway ready to handle whatever consequences may come out way.

Most of the time I don’t think about the “what if’s” that could often turn fatal, I just decide and whatever happens, happens.

Life is about taking chances, and if it’s not, then why are we here, we take a chance each time we step a foot outside the comfort of our homes, never knowing if a mass murderer or beautiful day is waiting on us.

Life isn’t about taking chances, Life is a chance.

A Slice of Something Real

Posted: May 18, 2009 by elb2011 in Elyse

I was born off the Atlantic Coast in the middle of a grunge era. I adore the

West Virginia hills. I bought a heart shaped box made out of ivory that I keep a necklace

my grandma bought for me. I have lied to the world. I never admit to me liking being sixteen.

My friends’ faces have lost their innocence. When I was two, I over-dosed on Children’s Motrin because

I thought it was candy. My favorite thing to do is pray and my favorite time of day is dawn.

They are the only favorites I possess.  I still hear my paw-paws hack early in the mornings. I have met about a

quarter of West Virginia. I cry when my sciatic nerve hurts. I love blankets and kitties. I plan on

being so happy I can’t stand it. I am Elysse. I want to be independent.


E. Burkhamer

I sometimes wonder.

Posted: May 18, 2009 by alexbestep in AlexE

I Sometimes Wonder

Alex Estep


Sometimes I wonder how a room of people can agree how cruel and heartless it is to kill a animal, yet the same people think abortion is acceptable.

I wonder how they see a difference in the two. Both animal and child are innocent, and helpless, both of which never harmed a soul. Something beautiful a miracle God allowed happen.

The only difference I find is that one was created with your help, and ready to throw it away like a piece of worthless trash, that nobody would ever desire.  You say you don’t have time, you can’t afford a child.

Look around, there is a person that can afford children, which would love to start a family with someone they love, but cannot.

You are not only killing an innocent, your ruining a couple’s dreams of ever having a family. And not that that have you not realized all the danger you have put yourself in, of the illness which could consume your being.

Sometimes I wonder if people ever think before they act, sometimes I wonder if people ever think period.

When I was young on the move in Logan

Posted: May 18, 2009 by desirae13 in Desirae

By:Desirae Akers


When I was young on the move in Logan

I remember I never had much friends

I was never in one place long enough to make any.

I remember I never had the chance to ride the bus to school,

I always walked alone on the long narrow bridge

that same bridge I tossed petty rocks into the muck of the water on my way home.


When I was young on the move in Logan

I went to my grandma’s every weekend.

There she would always fix me my favorite dish,

hot noodles with butter and shredded cheese.

Often we had sits on the front porch to watch the rain lash on everything it touched.

Now days I would be lucky to even get to hear her voice.


When I was young on the move in Logan

I was a canvas to my mother.

She used me to make a new picture everyday.

She always dolled me up with her bright eye colors and red lipstick.

I remember the aroma of the perfume she sprayed on me

and the likeness we shared when she was finished.


When I was young on the move in Logan

I always stayed up late with my two older brothers.

We sat on the soft sofa playing their video games,

or watched horror movies that scared me so bad my eyelids were glued open.

I was terrified to sleep alone; afraid of the nightmares that came.


When I was young on the move in Logan

all the things I once loved took a break.

I remember the hard times rather than all the good times.

I learned through those times to ignore and make best with what I had.

That was the childhood I had, the fun I had before all the bad stuff happened.

It seems like it all went too fast, but if I could, I would never go back.


Eltee’s Daily Freewrite 5.14.09–First Draft

Posted: May 14, 2009 by eltee in Eltee

When I was seven and my brother Kelly eleven, he spent the entire summer trying to catch a bird.  Our grandfather told us that if we could put salt on a bird’s tail we could catch it and it would be our devoted pet.  The very idea fired Kelly’s imagination, and he decided he had to accomplish this goal. 

 At first Kelly simply took granny’s salt shaker from the kitchen and openly stalked any bird landing in our yard.  The glass container with stainless steel lid made hundreds of trips around the house, clutched in Kelly’s sweaty hand, as he slithered down the side of the house sneaking into the periphery of the bird’s vision, which always flew away.  Granny would call from the house from time to time “Son!  Bring me my salt back!  I’ve got beans in the pot!” and he’d put the shaker back on the stove, and wait for another opportunity. 

 I soon grew bored.  Stalking.  Waiting.  Slithering.  None of these qualified as fun for me; at seven years I could see only the freedom my first big girl’s bike offered me that summer.  Patience has never been my strong suit, even in childhood.  He worked methodically, not racing to catch a bird, but thoughtfully.  He was a marathon runner ready for the duration, not a sprinter like me, only good for the shortest of times.  While Kelly became bored with the style of the hunt, he didn’t get bored of the hunt itself. 

 His second incarnation of the quest to salt a bird’s tail involved an intricate system of traps that he designed.  He placed a cardboard box held up by a Y shaped stick under the neighbor’s weeping willow tree.  He tied a cord to the stick, and placed birdseed and bread under the box.  His goal was to entice an unsuspecting bird to waddle under the box, where he would yank the string, pulling out the prop.  The box would drop over the bird, trapping it, until Kelly could get his salt-shaker filled hand under the cardboard to do the deed. 

I don’t know how many hours he sat there, under the tree, waiting for the bird.  The long willow fronds hung down, making a nice shaded cool area, and the dirt under the tree was comfortable for resting.  When my legs grew weary of endless pumping the bike up and down our street I would go rest under the green tent with him, flopping down in the cool dirt and leaves, usually irritating him by my noisy entrance, which he avowed scared away the birds who were JUST THEN read y to have taken the bait if I hadn’t made so much noise and scared them away. 

 As the summer progressed Kelly continued his silent slow quest.  I remember his curly red hair and freckled face filled with excitement. He hid his hair under a green bath towel granny allowed him to take out and use as camouflage.  He believed for a while that the shade of his hair, not being something found in nature, was perhaps the reason the bird didn’t take his delectable offerings. 

 I see him now in my mind’s eye, head towel draped, hands clasping string and salt shaker, legs crossed Indian style under the canopy of the weeping willow.  In my mind the light shines through the leaves, dappling the scene, and I wish to go back, for just a brief moment, to my childhood, and revisit the home of our youth.

Drunken man

Posted: May 14, 2009 by desirae13 in Desirae

By: Desirae Akers

 Drunken Man

What is going on through his mind as he savors his forbidden drink?

He does it so much I don’t think he ever has time to think.

I know he does it for himself; selfish bitter man.

He doesn’t even realize how it effects me.

He’s to drunk to talk to you without yelling.

He’s to drunk to be serious.

He’s to drunk to even bother spending time with you when you really need him.

He always forgets.

You figure after awhile he’ll just give up and quit, but it’s in him forever.

A drunken man is in him forever.

I just learned to deal with it when he drinks all the time.

I don’t want him to know that he makes me mad.

I tried that once before, but it blew up in my face.

He must use it to  get away from everything, from me, from the family, from work.

I don’t really know.

I’ll never understand why.

Deep down inside though, it always bothers me.

He always bothers me.

The smell of his breath when he gets in my face.

His stupid attitude about everything.

He might as well not even be there.

Because when he’s drunk, he’s never really there.

There You Were

Posted: May 14, 2009 by alexbestep in AlexE

There You Were

Alex Estep

There you were in that big, red, swing laughing as he pushed you higher and higher.

The sun smiling down on you, birds singing around you, and the wind blowing your hair from your face, the day couldn’t be more perfect.

There you were with a crowd of people, eating a slice of pizza and cheering him on as if it were only the two of you at those football games.

Before he went on the field he blew a kiss from his fingertips which you caught and threw one back.  You smiled as he pretended to put it in his pocket and save it for later.

There you were waiting for him in the Toyota, as he was getting near the two of you locked eyes, making it impossible for you to stop smiling.

As he got into the truck he reached into the pocket of his blue jeans and pulled something out, yet, when he opened his hand to reveal what he had, it was empty. 

He saw the dumbfounded look upon your face and smiled then you remembered it was kiss he saved earlier.  He always knew just how to make you smile.

There you were being woken up in the morning with a kiss on your forehead as he whispers “C’mon, I have something to show you.” 

As you climbed up into the white truck you paid no attention to the music playing around you, only to the hand that rested upon your knee.

There you were on the tailgate of his truck, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, it was the only warmth you needed.

The smell of pine all around and the warmth of the sun created the perfect atmosphere.  The beauty of the sun rising just above the horizon nearly took your breath away.  He leaned in closer and whispered “There is nothing more beautiful than you.”

There you were six and a half months later, with no swings, smiling suns, kisses or sunrises and there was never a perfect day.  You were tired of all the drinking and all the drugs, tired of washing the clothes that smelt of strong vodka and marijuana, but most of all tired of spending endless nights crying yourself to sleep.

There you were trying to deal with a break that just wouldn’t mend your body tired and weak.  Then one day it was over and you were free again. You were laughing with your friends, without a care in the world; you turn to him “Goodbye, my friend.” You say to him.

And there you were forgetting him, but never the lesson he taught you, and once more you whisper “Goodbye old friend.”

Where I live-Alex Estep

Posted: May 14, 2009 by alexbestep in AlexE

Where I live

Alex Estep


You will come into an old run-down town, whose buildings are chipping away due to bad up-keep.

You must drive far away from these buildings, far away from them all to get there.

Although you desire to see what type of people live here, do not turn back now.

It is beyond the railroad tracks, beyond the food markets, there is a fork up ahead in the middle of nowhere.

Signs advise you to turn right or continue on the path from which you began, turn right and follow the winding stream, it will lead you all the way there.

Painful Reminiscence by Alisha Runyon

Posted: May 14, 2009 by lisha09 in Alisha

You remember her.

Sitting on her favorite section of the couch and watching her favorite soap operas.

You remember very vividly the theme songs of every show.

On snow white winter days she would tell you not to sit on the heater vent;

afraid you would burn the house down.

You often stop what you’re doing and realize how lost you might be if she were gone.

So to pass time you sat behind her on her flower pattern couch and braid her hair.

Hoping one day you’ll have the same beautiful curly locks.

As the cold seasons passed you remember watching her read her Bible,

wondering if anyone could possibly have read it more than she.

You’re not very sure what would happen if she were to just leave all of the sudden, then you have to

block out those thoughts for fear they’ll taint your dreams.

Then you wake up from a dream you wish was reality.

That’s when you realize that you need to stop living in the past and let everything be as it should.

Untitled — by Ashley

Posted: May 14, 2009 by ramblingnurse93 in Ashley

Peace to you, oh place of joy
Peace to you calm and unpredictable
Peace to you tangible and home

A blessing on the never-ending waves
Crashing, flowing into the shore
Bringing delight, joy, calmness to
people of the city

A blessing towards all rooms – the distinct
smell only found as you walk through these
doors, the warm breeze which finds its way
upon your skin as you open the balcony door

A blessing towards the live music
Hearing the amateur singer play covers of popular
songs, selling CDs for twenty-five a piece, an
outrageous price for such thing
Annoying, usually, but it’s a sure sign that shows
me I’m really home.

A blessing towards the constantly popular Jacuzzi,
the one that is always full,
that tingling feeling of searing, hot water on my stomach
as I take those steps and lay my back against the
water jets, setting my eyes upon the sky and staring
at flocks of seagulls, even the occasional airplane

A blessing on the [virgin] strawberry daiquiris, because
for anyone who tasted them, we know they simply are
the best.
The coldness of the plastic cup, extra bits of daiquiri
flowing down the sides, licking them before it drips
onto the deck

A blessing on the late-night walks on the beach
The feeling of slight warmth from the breeze, rustling strands
of your ocean hair across your face
The ocean barely touching your toes as you walk
across the sand
A blessing on the excitement of meeting new people, learning
about them and having fun while doing so

A blessing to this whole place,
this place where I feel safe, where I can confide in,
where I can leave my deepest worries behind and just
be myself


You are many.

Posted: May 14, 2009 by desirae13 in Desirae

By: Desirae AKers


You are many.

You are the one

Who makes me want to wear

Something in red.


You are  a hot air balloon

That carries me far away

From all my troubles.


You are that person

Who takes all the pain I feel

And use your healing mind to fix it.


You are the one

Who makes my heart skip a beat

Every time you leave me breathless


I want this feeling to last always

But I wont allow myself to be naïve.

Waiting and hoping is my best bet.


You are the one person in my life

That is able to lift me off my feet.


You are my never ending jump

From a trampoline, allowing me

To be carried away from all

The butterflies you have caged

In my stomach.

My excitement and smile never ends.


You are the big part of why I see

Deeper than four oceans

Rather the dwelling on the surface.


You are the best

Change in me

And no matter what road we

Choose to walk on .


You’ll always have a

Red rose for remembrance

In my heart.

Sacred Sinner by Carissa Nelson

Posted: May 14, 2009 by carissan11 in Carissa

I motion my fingers as if locking my mouth shut. I throw away the key & refuse to let a word out. I watch you praise him on Sunday nights, your motions acting as your words. I continually listen to the stories of the weekend roll off your lips, knowing in my mind this ministry will soon be in vain. I keep quiet. But, you’re pretending again Saint. Hypocritical, again.

 You think you’re in with the ‘in-crowd’, the way you chug the last drink of the booze, letting it burn your throat as it travels to give you your much anticipated high. But, I thought boozers were losers, right? I see behind your blood-shot eyes. You can’t hide the strong scent of the burning leaves – the intense aroma, filling your precious givers-of-air with putrid unknowns. I hate to think of that.

 What do you believe you will get out of your immature behavior? Happiness that lasts as long as the euphoric feeling does? Definitely, but all good things come to an end. I promise you that. Do you not realize what this does to our ‘family’, our Creator? Do you not think of the reputation our way of witness receives because of your habit, your must-have minute, maybe, of contentment?

 You think I don’t know? Well, you should know he does. He knows all. I honestly wish he was not all-knowing, so that perhaps he could be sheltered from hurt he does not deserve.

Rambling Biography by Kari Back

Posted: May 14, 2009 by kariface in Kari

I was born right when I was supposed to be. I went to school and was very quiet. I got in trouble for coloring in circles and helping a boy glue eyes on his gingerbread man. I stayed at my grandma’s house every chance I got so I could play with my cousin. My grandma took us to the pool, to the park, to Ohio and back. She never made us wear our seatbelts. I moved to Michigan when I was 10 because my dad got a new job. I didn’t like it there at first, but the seven months of winter grew on me. I was uprooted again when I was 14 – we were moving back to West Virginia. Mom said it was because everything was too expensive in Michigan – I think it was because she missed her dad. I cried and cried the day we left our house in Grand Blanc. Now I’m here; not happy, but content. I don’t plan on staying much longer…