Archive for October, 2013

Childhood is… by Lexi Morgan

Posted: October 24, 2013 by Lexi in LexieM, Uncategorized

Childhood is messy faces.
Childhood is piles of stuffed animals in the living room.
Childhood is picking dandelions like roses.
Childhood is watching a mother leave in a yellow-checkered car through tear-misted eyes.
Childhood is little plastic cars speeding down a hill.
And Childhood is being strong for the ones who can’t anymore.

Hopeless but hoping

Posted: October 24, 2013 by hannahmarie64 in HannahW

I wonder about silly things,
like if birds like to fly or if they’d rather swim.
I hear confused people,
always being quickest to judge.
I see what people want me to see,
because they’re never who they seem to be.
I want things to be simple sometimes,
but then I miss the complications

I pretend most people aren’t really there,
because sometimes, that’s the only way to be content.
I feel like everyone’s lost puppies,
looking for their owner, or a sense of direction.
I touch the books that’s been left behind,
containing a story that I will spend hours reading
I worry that one day we’ll all be forgotten,
then I remember that’s how it’ll be for everyone
I cry because the only person that understood,
isn’t here to tell me it’s okay

I understand you get what you give
I say hopeless but hoping
I dream about making a difference
I try to help as much as I can,
because I know how it feels to think you’re alone
I hope that one day I could save a life,
just like someone saved mine
and if I am not yet strong enough to do so
I will die trying.

When I was Young

Posted: October 24, 2013 by skylar1314 in SkylarP

When I was young at my nana’s house, my nana had a freshly cooked five star meal prepared for me upon arrival every day.

I followed up dinner with a birthday party with an orange cupcake with a single candle stuck in one of the icing loops for a cake. This was not a rare occasion.

I hid under the table in order to eat icing and sugar raw from their containers, no matter how many times my nana warned me that I’d get worms.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers found me in the back yard hurling brightly colored water balloons as hard as my little arm could handle at my aunt, who was always a good sport.

I used to be an animal expert in that back yard, chasing lizards and chipmunks and hopping the fence to her neighbor’s yard just so I could play with her little Chihuahua, Pippy.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers also found me on the lonely road that passes by her front yard. The tires of my old bike with the tasseled handle bars know every inch of that road.

Scooby-Doo existed, not only on TV, but in my real life. Each day that old road found me assuming the persona of Daphne Blake, while my loving aunt took directions very well from a small young girl.

At the end of the day, when her neighbor’s grandson was in town, the fireflies knew they had better run, or we were gonna capture them all in recycled jam jars.

When I was young at my nana’s house, I never was bored. My imagination ran wild, and so did I. But no matter where in the world I thought I was, I never forgot where I was really standing: on the sacred ground of my childhood.

Yellow and Gray by Lexi Morgan

Posted: October 24, 2013 by Lexi in LexieM, Uncategorized

I guess I’d say I’m gray-
Is that really that bad?
I’m soft and thoughtful,
And I’d like to think I’m comforting,
But who am I to say?
I guess I’m also yellow, though.
All nervous, self-aware, and shy.
Some people see yellow as positive,
But why, I wonder, can’t I?
It makes me antsy,
That outlandishly bright color.
That might be because I’m gray.
But in my personal opinion,
I’d take gray any day.

Posted: October 24, 2013 by shelbeebalentine in Uncategorized

Sometimes I guess love isn’t enough. No matter how hard you try, love doesn’t always make everything perfect. Love will never be perfect, ever. A person can only take so much, and I completely understand that. I used to believe love could change everything, make everything better. But after so much I think your heart starts to realize the person is better off without you. If they cared, they would’ve never left. Love can make you so vulnerable. Right now, they just don’t need you like you need them. That’s the problem with love, it’s not promised that the other person will ever feel the same way. You can’t make that happen, no matter how bad you want it, or how hard you try. I just don’t understand how one person can put so much into somebody and have so much emotion and the other have so little. Maybe their afraid to love you like you love them. Love is seriously a scary thing it can mess you up completely. You let someone else take completely control of your happiness. And once they walk away, you’re lost like you don’t even know who you are. It’s crazy how even after that point they still have a hold on you, you couldn’t bare moving on because that means letting go of them completely. Even if they aren’t there, at least something was. It’s better than feeling nothing in your heart, right? Letting go isn’t about blocking memories, or thinking sad thoughts. Letting go is having the courage to accept change, and the strength to keep moving. Letting go is part of growing up.

When I Was Young

Posted: October 24, 2013 by haleykw2015 in HaleyW

When I  was young in the house I sat by the door with Jesse

waiting, everyday, on my dad to come home from work.

He smelled like a strong man and laughed as we grabbed his legs;

Mom ignored us because she was jealous.

When I was young in the house I sat by the kitchen window.

I leaned against it and watched all our cats roam around;

I tried to look at other people and places but I was too far away.

When I was young in the house I slept on my mamaw’s couch.

It was hard to fall asleep but I had to,

there was a new school to attend the next day.

Her bathroom always smelled like aged makeup, and floor cleaner.

I was then tall enough to see myself in mirror.

When I was young in the house I ran off the bus everyday in order to be safe.

I jumped on the porch, with its blue chipping paint falling off as the wind blows.

Mom and mamaw would sometimes wait to see me come in the door.

When I was young in the house I wouldn’t unpack my things.

I never knew what the next day was going to bring;

mom was there less and less.

It was hard to decide where to go until I no longer had a choice.

When I was young in the house I had to make the best of it,

If I didn’t I would cause a problem.

Sometimes it worked out that way, there was always a problem.

It was winter, and I had to move one last time;

the people are cold like the air and hard like the frozen dirt.

When I was young on the mountain, I wandered through the grass with my brother. We picked dandelions like roses, and our grandma treated them like roses when we gave our bouquets to her.

When I was young on the mountain, my grandma said, “Wink at me!” My brother and I closed both our eyes.

When I was young on the mountain, I sang happy birthday to everyone all at once from a high chair stained orange from spaghetti sauce.

When I was young on the mountain, I didn’t worry so much. I just picked flowers and sang with my mother.

Childhood is…

Posted: October 24, 2013 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

Childhood is thinking every food my mom gave me was chicken.

Childhood is remembering being in church with my family.

Childhood is saying I love you, when your mom tucks you in and kisses your head.

Childhood is laughing while saying the tumor on my arm was my muscle.

Childhood is playing in the dirt pile with all the neighborhood kids.

Childhood is seeing my brother sneak and play on his DS while he was supposed to be sleeping.

Childhood is listening to Kids Bop Cds on my portable CD player.

And Childhood is having not a care in the world and happiness is experienced with no effort at all.

When I Was Young on The Hill

Posted: October 24, 2013 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

When I was young on the hill,

I spent many of my days in my grandparents

once yellow and green house.

My brother and I went into the junk filled garage,

and plundered to find adventures beneath the dusty objects.

We often found black, hairy spiders as big as our hands,

and screamed for Granddad to save us from our distress.

When I was young on the hill,

I always looked forward to dinner always home-cooked,

and they never forgot cornbread on the side.

When I was young on the hill,

I sat in awe as my old but strong Granddad

told us stories from he a young child.

After he told those stories,

I scurried and found my way into the bedroom,

to watch Blues Clue’s on the tiny tv screen.

When I was young on the hill,

I found myself in the graveyard, behind the house,

playing ghost busters.

When I was young on the hill,

we waited and watched for my Mamaw Judy

to say “There’s a hole!!” and tore Granddads shirt excitedly.

While we lay asleep on the waterbed,

my brother and I soon got a wake up call.

My Granddad bouncing us on the bed, roaring.

Then often just a few days later,

I had to walk on the water bed trying to find

where water was squirting out.

When I was young on the hill,

I woke up on Sundays, put on my best dress,

and made my way to 5&6 Church.

When I was young on the hill,

I remember being surrounded by guns.

I was always protected by guns and Jesus.

When I was young on the hill,

My small family moved a couple times to different places,

But never failed to find our way home, where we belong,

to our home on the hill.

Looking Back

Posted: October 23, 2013 by hannahmarie64 in HannahW

I remember believing in the toothfairy,
because mom always liked us best that way
I remember busting my mouth on the coffee table chasing my brother,
in the same little house that is now my home
I remember being excited for my first day of school,
because I wanted to be just like my bubby
I remember smelling dirt and fresh cut grass after school,
because I couldn’t count the times I’d fallen during cheer practice
I remember watching my mommy  cry whenever things I never understood happened,
then trying to cheer her up by singing a song too mature for my voice
I remember going into the big doctor’s office,
and being scared at what they told me was my baby sister on TV
I remember my daddy being my superhero whenever he’d carry me to my bed,
because we all tried to stay awake past our bed time
I remember complaining to my parents during the rides from NC to WV,
because what was 5 hours really felt like twelve
I remember dancing on a pool table with Shelbee,
because Hannah Montana knew how to get us moving
I remember being afraid to see my goofball of a father on May 22nd,
because I knew what was laying there no longer contained the soul I loved so much
I remember twisting my hair constantly in class,
later coming home to mommy asking her to brush it out
I remember jumping around in my room like a rock star,
because my little sister laughed at me like I really was
I remember getting mad when people were mean to her,
and I remember the girl crying when I hit her for hurting her feelings
I remember fake sleeping until my mommy and daddy would come in my room,
because I liked the way they kissed me in my sleep

I remember being young and careless,
because young and careless was all we were allowed to be

In Color

Posted: October 23, 2013 by skylar1314 in SkylarP

I’d like to be red

and have a firey passion burning in my soul with every tick of a clock’s long hand.

I’d like to be yellow

and always wear a bright raincoat that fogginess and dreariness roll right off of.

I’d like to be blue

and be able to calm a storm that may be tearing through my life like a tornado.

I’d like to be orange

and be flamboyant and energetic so I can bounce through life like a happy bunny on a mission.

I’d like to be green

and have a positive nature about me that allows me to go anywhere at all.

I’d like to be purple

and have a noble view on everything so that I don’t have to feel less than royal.

But the truth is,

I’m black. As black as the three a.m. sky.

I’m strong, sophisticated, elegant, and


But, black is a mixture of all colors.

So, I guess

I’m rainbow.




Posted: October 23, 2013 by shelbeebalentine in Uncategorized

Think of people as a butterfly.

How one day their just a boring weird Caterpillar. Then, they’ll wrap themselves up in their cocoon. Until, someone breaks them out, and makes them something beautiful. I picture a little girl just being herself. Who becomes a young lady, and really starts to see who she really is. She get’s judged, just for being herself. Even though that is what we have been taught to do. It makes her wrap herself up, hiding who she really is. With hopes that she will turn into something beautiful, and capture the eyes of many. She will eventually will turn into a butterfly, and will spread her wings and fly. Only she can control where she go’s. Nobody can hold her down when she is soaring high off the ground.

I Was Born for This

Posted: October 23, 2013 by lukacsbetsy in BetsyL2014

I was born for this.

I was created to love you,

to give you praise.

As I gaze into your eyes, a flaming blaze.

You made me whole,

a new creation

I am forever changed.


I was born for this.

The watch tower gets lonely.

It’s your love that holds me

because you created galaxies

such a beautiful sight to see

but my God says the most beautiful creation is you and me.


Your eyes see what you allow them to.

Well maybe once or twice, or three times, or four

they’ve seen a little more than what I’ve bargained for.

Do you think I take pleasure into staring at a lake of stagnated water?

No. The stench cringes my soul.


Visions are enhanced, horizons are widened.

My horizon is to tell what has not been told.

I was born for this

oh lover of my soul.

I Remember

Posted: October 23, 2013 by haleykw2015 in HaleyW

I remember loafing on my porch

I remember cigarette smoke surrounding everything

I remember going to mamaw’s house because we had no food

and I remember baking cakes with her.

I remember arriving home and listening to my dad play guitar

I remember going to school and working my hardest

I remember watching over Jesse because he was so small

and I remember my mom having DJ.

I remember exciting birthday parties, family pictures, and presents

I remember the best food at granny’s house

and I remember my parents were there.

I remember thinking and dreaming in impossibilities

I remember each foster home

and I remember realizing how different everyone is.

I remember arguing with everyone

I remember trying too hard to grow up

but I don’t remember when I  lost the part of me that made those things important.

Where I’m From

Posted: October 23, 2013 by skylar1314 in SkylarP

I am from the same two-story brick building where my parents lived before me.

I am from funny stories before bed and warm clothes fresh from the dryer upon awakening.

I’m from the twisted world of imagination,

from the fuzzy line between dreams and reality.

I’m from the voices that never leave saying, “Never give up,” and “You’re beautiful.”

Strangely, they sound like my nana.

I am from Logan High School graduates turned Marshall alumni with hearts that bleed the mixture of blue and gold.

I am from, “Sure, but don’t tell your mother,” and eating vanilla icing out of the tube.

I am from Please and Thank yous,

from graciousness and kind hearts.

I’m from kisses and hugs hello and goodbye,

from the warm, loving family that lives always in a special little place in my heart.