Champlain Valley Union High School

I hate
that you
won't tell me who you are

that you'll
breathe whispers in my ear
stroke my hand
with your beat up finger tips
then
take it all back
swallow it up
make it so it never happened
make it so
you never loved me
never kissed me
never held me

I hate
that you
won't tell me who you are

I'm trying to figure it out
desperately
but every time I catch the answer
it flies away

just
like
you.

I hate
that you
won't tell me who you are

You're a cryptic
sadist

and I love you for it
It's
WHY
I love you.

Yes,
I love you.

I still
love you.

I will always
love you

but
I hate
that you
Won't tell me who you are.

We live in a matrix
A world filled with special things.
All of these special things are vivacious
They all have spirit and animation.
But in this matrix the vivacious objects aren't just humans and animals they are spurious objects; some of these objects are amenities, things we think we need.
In our matrix there are spurious objects and things of vivacity, but there is also nature, the most beautiful part of all.
The waves, trees and the wind that is undulant like the waves in the ocean.
The Undulant wind when it is in a vehemence mood can be a very dangerous part of our matrix.
But there isn’t just danger there is beauty.
We live in a changing matrix, from summer to fall to winter and spring.
The summer when the flowers are in bloom and the sun makes you feel warm.
Fall when the leaves change and begin to fall and you can feel the changing once more in the season.
Winter the coldest change but the most beautiful change of all.

When I first think of Africa I imagine vast savannas and watering holes surrounded by animals of many different species. These are the thoughts that come from my childhood mind set. Africa used to be a wild and interesting place like The Lion King, and as a place of animals and dance. It is a place that I think of as having the most beautiful culture of any other place in the world. With its stunning masks and brightly colored clothes that are intertwined with intricate and celebrative dances. I used to only know of it as a place of adventure and beauty based on what I had seen in Disney movies and picture books. It was a place that I had believed was truly exemplary of Hakuna Matada. Now I have learned the true nature of the continent of Africa. Not only the horrible slave trade that involved Africa in the world trade market hundreds of years ago, but also a more pressing issue that comes to mind when thinking of Africa today.

Trevor was not the typical 18 year-old boy who liked to goof off with his friends and hang out with all the girls. In fact, he didn’t even know any other boys his age. He was cursed with being an agoraphobic, who never left the house for anything. Until one day when his whole life would change forever.

Vote

By Danielle Terrill
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 10

You don't vote?
Why live in America?
Choice, gonna give up your right to choose?
Why not just be mute?
Your gonna silence yourself?
No voice, no choice, then what do you have?
Doesn't make any sense, huh?
It's your right
Your duty
Part of fulfilling your American dream
Walk into that room this November
Step into that striped booth
Check the boxes
and be heard

Haunted. Decrepit. Pink. The house on the corner of Chairman and Main can be described with only these three words; or at least, it has not been described as anything else since 1963. It stands among the many houses of Dysart, Iowa, that are occupied; stands there, as if it still belongs when, in truth, older residents of the town avert their eyes from it as they walk down the street.
But not me. As I pass it, I gaze at the chipping pink paint that covers the house, at the collapsed front porch and the plants growing from it. It does not fail to send a chill through me, but then, perhaps that is only because I’ve ventured inside it.

Crash
BANG
thump
Better get out of here before...
CRASH
bang
THUMP
Come on, keep going, door's right there
crash
bang
THUMP
It's coming
It's coming
CRASH
bang
thump
Oh shoot, this is bad
CRASH
BANG
THUMP
.......

Cut her open
stole her heart
ran away
with it
dropped it
on the way
to where he didn't know
he was going

Gone now
lost
probably forever

Maybe she should
try try to find it

but no

It still hurts
to much

The beautiful dreamer
with a teacup for a head
and chamomile for hair
long dragging
arms
of willow branches and licorice

The beautiful dreamer
with legs made of crushed up candy canes
mixed with vanilla ice cream
on a hot September day

The beautiful dreamer
Eyes of cinnamon
and a mouth of taffy
muddling her words
while she spits out her thoughts
thought over thought over thought
layering themselves
Until nothing makes sense
and the world goes to waste

One day she'll be
an artist
a writer
a singer
a dancer

One day she'll be
a suicide girl
diving off cliffs
and jumping out of planes

And then slowly
drop back into
reality

When someone changes that much, they have no right to turn on the person who's been with them the whole time.
That would be me.

We're walking down the path. Not next to each other, of course, God forbid. Anything to keep from being seen 'with' me.
So I get to stare at the back of your calves the whole time.
(Not that I mind.)
(It's just that now that you lost all that weight, the muscles that I always knew were there are now actually visible.)
(See, I wasn't making it up.)

You're kicking a rock, big soccer champ that you are.
Dribbling it back and forth and showing off. Just in case anyone's watching your leg muscles rippling.
(Apart from me.)

Because obviously I'm not the only one to notice.
Generally, when you lose 20+ pounds over the summer, at exercise camp, you do attract some attention the next semester.
I should have realized that. I kick myself and pretend no one saw me almost trip.

TALK TO ME, LOSER.
(No offense.)

Silence. I apologized, didn't I?

LOOK AT ME, I want to scream.
I WAS YOUR FRIEND FIRST. SINCE FOURTH GRADE. REMEMBER?
Remember?
Remember me?

Silence.

Here's a rhetorical question:
Do you know?

October Days
By Mallory Hillman

The trees are ablaze
With fire shooting from their limbs
The air is getting colder
It makes my nose turn pink.
The air stops feeling like the soft summer breezes
And has become edgier upon my skin.
The sun is hiding behind the clouds
Turning the sky a wicked gray.
It slowly rises
Later and later each morning.
Leaves will soon be falling
Down, down, down
They drift with the wind.
Orange, red and brown
They cover the ground.
The trees are naked
No clothing on their branches.
I hear the delicate crunch of dry leaves
With every step I take.
A sharp, cool breeze brings the smell of wood smoke
And makes the fallen leaves dance in the wind.
I wake in the morning
To find dew lingering on the grass.
Flowers close their petals
And sleep until spring.
Birds fly south
Leaving the cold behind.

Whispering Princess

By Alexandra Sullivan
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 11

Alas, the leaves all glimmer here
the air speaks whispers, thoughts and dreams.
Her spirit wanders far and near
Astride the winds with leaves that gleam.
Wields strength, princess of gust and breeze.
the beasts that threaten emerald land
are spared if in them she can see
A glint of a benev’lent hand.
Her beauty doesn’t come from eyes
Or lips, or cheeks, or slender frame
It comes from whispers; pow’r which flies
Atop the winds with lonesome dame
Yet she knows not that someone stares
At winds that whisper through her hair.

*Crash* I hear at my window, and think "What was THAT?" I run over to window, stick my head out, and look down. Not knowing what to expect, imagine my surprise when I saw nothing but an unconscious white owl with an envelope in his (or hers, you can never be sure with owls) beak. No one was home, so I ran downstairs and outside, and stared at the unconscious bird lying before me. I plucked the envelope from its beak, and was surprised to find it was addressed to me. I opened it and began reading.
"Dear Anna,
We are glad to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts
school of witchcraft and wizardry."

I ran through the woods
just kept going and going
trying
to get away from it all
all of it
the stress of school
the seemingly never ending homework flow
(boy troubles)
Running through the woods
It all
disappears
or at least
subsides
for a while
long enough for me to
think

Unpolished

No, it’s not to be worn ‘round your neck, bragging about the amount of money spent for its extravagance. Juuuuu-Lee, an unpolished stone. What kind of stone is a stone that refuses to be polished? Supposedly dashing the rainbows out of the clouds, throwing light amongst the walls, such a beauty, some would say.
When you drag the syllables along for a rather fretful, unruly ride, it leaves a trail, a buildup of saliva under the tongue, as if the mouth were a weapon. Tender lips lift, to imitate a nonexistent smile, or an upside down frown. What ever happened to letting the voice float off into the wind while trying to call my attention from my imagination? Surely the cry of a crow interrupts the distraction, but in a result of much cringing and a deep profound sigh.

As seven hundred spruce trees burst into flames
she can’t stop staring.

A sea of bright
smells satisfactory like single-handed success.

Slowly growing
with such grace and precision.

Swallowed by
sparkling shades of sapphire.

Stars start to shine in the sky overhead
surrounded by spiraling smoke.

Small animal shelters soon disappear,
consumed by nature’s sin.

A splendid sight of a site
sought by someone searching for simplified beauty.

Let's say
it happens.

(Please don't, please don't...)

All my fault, but not my fault at all....

a lesson on taking the blame:
I didn't do anything; I did everything.

I miss/need/love/hate/care

If it doesn't:

[Please, please!]

whatever horrible, disgusting, inhuman part of me that wanted,
for the drama,
for the emotions,
for whatever horrible reasons my frazzled brain could possibly present me with...

maybe that tiny brain cell
would feel sad.

That
life is good.

Literally.

No one knows why
No one knows how

and I know least of all.

[Please, please, he didn't do anything. Please.]

Selfishly, I'd be lonely
at NEs.
Selfishly.

Selfishly, I'd be angry
for his choices
and beliefs
and policies.

and maybe a little less selfishly,

I'd be mad that it was never
me.

Selfishly,
I sit here
and feel underprivileged
because I'm not up there with them
on faith. love. healing. family. values.

Please. Please. Please.

Why am I letting myself fall farther and farther into that place?
The place that hurt me- the place where I don't want to be.
I want to go far away- away from these feelings that won't leave me. I don't care where it takes me, I just want to get away- fast!
I can't get out of this chair.
I'm stuck- glued.
My friends try to understand- but they don't. They don't get it!
I'm sick of this-
Wanting/ crushing/ loving,
But I can't help it!
When I think the trap door is locked, I'll go stand on it, and fall right back into the mess I just climbed out of.
Why?
Why does this hurt so much?
Can't He help? I mean, he's the one that looks down upon us. The one that cares for us the most- so why doesn't He help us out when we've fallen and can't get back up?
I don't understand.
Why is getting back up, after you've fallen, so hard?

'Tis now...
Silence.
No more memories to share.
Got no more new emails
Or days to bear.
I've waited
Days
Days
Days on end.
Up to now.
I should be okay, right?
I should be, "Oh it's okay. You don't exist. Never Never!"
But, I'm lying to myself, aren't I?
A little more than the usual.
Blast from the past? Hahah, I'm game.
It hit me fast, fast as a slap in the face.
Stinging, ringing, twitching, HARD.
I thought I was over it, really!
I thought you were done, seriously!
Stopped, did the blooming concern
Stopped, did the yearning burn.
Now now, I'm just a little girl.
Went and typed and typed to her heart's content.
Only to find, what it really meant.
Found him, the shining star.
He said he would come soon.
When the sun came low and laughter was sparse.
Three silly boys, came to meet a dream's end.
One's off to forever matrimony
Another's off twiddling his thumbs
And the last, saunters aimlessly to nowhere.
Myself, I...
Try my best to hide the reminiscence of
"The three young men and forever lost."

She is the reflecting glare off the window. Blocking my view to the mountains, my eyes want so desperately to climb. Instead my eyes have to rest on her livid face. Whose hazy, sore-red eyes stab back accusations. That face stained with dried up tear paths. I can’t decide if they are from internal-laughter or saddened betrayal.

She is the reflecting glare off the window. Blocking my view to the mountains, my eyes want so desperately to climb. Instead my eyes have to rest on her livid face. Whose hazy, sore-red eyes stab back accusations. That face stained with dried up tear paths. I can’t decide if they are from internal-laughter or saddened betrayal.

To live or to die? That is the question. In the end, we must confront our own mortality – or must we?

"It's been a while," said I.
"Where have you been?" she said.
"Nowhere in particular," he replied.

No response.

"Well,"
"You're rather..."
"vulnerable."

Why?

All three voices answered, "Why not?"

I wonder...

"Who are you?"
"What are you?"
"How are you?"

this is you,
me,
and the raging beast of society,
floating along the river of time,
into the sea of eternity.

bobbing like corks,
we'll discover whether,
or not,
we exist,
among the immortal
icons.

it's sink or swim,
only the best will survive.
i plan on being there,
above the surface,
on a raft made of these words

And so there I was, the rain slowly soaking through my t-shirt. Her tail lights, now just pinpoints, were swallowed up by the darkness of the late fall evening. I unlocked my car and sat with the heater cranked and the music vibrating my cup holder. Idly opening and closing my phone I stared out at the increasing blackness of night.

smiling so soft it almost disappeared,
my heart was upset
and yours could do nothing about it.
that day at Yellowstone,
I saw the careful scent of lilies
wrapped around your innocent crimes.
cold like a frown,
we laughed and cried and stopped.
I don’t believe in jinxing,
you told me;
sometimes things don’t happen when they do.
the lost time of forever

Morning Dew

By Elizabeth Merritt
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 11

she sat there,
woozy,
like someone had pulled the plug in her feet
and drained her out.

she watched the river,
lazy ripples that once in a while
broke along the surface.

still as a fence post,
just the rain-cleaned wood
and the rising light.

playing the cello like something had died,
as if the music had rushed into her pores.

a perfect hum,
high-pitched and swollen.

her stories still pulled soft around our shoulders.
now and then,
they came back from a place they had never been.

she wanted to know what happened when
two people felt it-
heat would make a person do strange things.

A beautiful woman in passing
sold me a deceptive bag of seeds
A green seam in the corner read hope
but she argued that they were just peas.

With a snort I tossed them far away
to the back patch of my mind
Unattended they slowly began
to flourish nourished by my dreams.

Sprouting up to starlight’s gleam
they paved way to the mythical
Where roaming Giants teamed

Redheads

By Lauren Goldsborough
Champlain Valley Union High School, Grade 9

I have screamed
the anger
and stress
away

and it probably
damaged
your ear
drums.

Forgive me
I'm a red head.
we can get angry.

We wake up intertwined in fumbled, dirt free linens within a gas-heated home, and soon pave the way to the bathroom, where a toilet, sink, towels, shampoo, soap, dental floss, and shaving cream await. It’s our duty to polish our flat, white teeth in order to sustain a glossy smile, rooted to full obligations for a fat bill for cavity repair if things go wrong.