"Hale-Bopp" 161

Stacey Decker

North Royalton High School

"The Old Man I See" 163

Miki Ashino

The Wellington School (Columbus)

"Love and Power" 164

Charlie Black

The Seven Hills School (Cincinnati)

"Blackberry" 165

Danielle Conkle

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Heron" 167

Stacey Decker

North Royalton High School

"Untitled" 169

Amanda Drollinger

Beavercreek High School

"Looking for Alternatives" 170

Laura M. Duplain

Hillsboro High School

"The Brick House" 171

Randi Garrison

Hillsboro High School

"The Sense of Him" 172

Allison Hamilton

Hillsboro High School

"Go Barefoot" 173

Jessica Howard

Hillsboro High School

"One Push" 174

Kyla Kelch

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Footprints" 175

Rachel Kurschat

Notre Dame Academy (Toledo)

"Untitled" 176

Miranda Landusky

Hilliard Darby High School

"Oxide" 177

Rodrigo Lopez

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"from . . . A Poem" 178

Hilari S. Penna

Hilliard Darby High School

"The Circus of Crypts" 179

Hillary Ran

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

"Tips on Breaking Up" 181

Elizabeth Seeley

Kenton High School

"Poem #17" 182

Anna Seidel

Talawanda High School (Oxford)

"Elementary Education" 183

Chanda Lee Steffey

Ellet High School (Akron)

"Word Bath" 184

Jennifer Szostek

Hudson High School

"Other Eyes" 185

Heather Weeks

Pickerington High School

"The Colors of the Sky" 186

Rachael Adair

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"My Grandmother's Life" 187

Rachael Adair

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Upon Viewing the Front Page' 189

Charlie Black

The Seven Hills School (Cincinnati)

"Untitled" 190

Joe Bridenbaugh

Unioto High School (Chillicothe)

"Club" 191

David Brome

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"The Surrender" 192

Christen Buoni

Liberty Christian Academy (Pickerington)

"Haiku" 195

Michael Chapman

Warrensville Heights High School

"Dear Sister" 196

Danielle Conkle

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Tan" 197

Danielle Conkle

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"School Days" 198

Keely Crites

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Deserved Dreams" 199

Heather Davidson

Hillsboro High School

"Family Normal" 200

Heather Davidson

Hillsboro High School

"Why I Will Not Get Out of Bed" 201

Heather Davidson

Hillsboro High School

"A Rose" 202

Alisha Dearth

Waterford, OH

"Euphoria" 204

Stacey Decker

North Royalton High School

"Spoiled Canvas" 206

Stacey Decker

North Royalton High School

"Untitled Reflections" 208

Nicole Derifield

Hilliard Darby High School

"Blossom" 209

Kristina K. Dunn

Fairfield High School

"A Lesson in Love at First Sight" 211

Laura M. Duplain

Hillsboro High School

"Picnic Dinners" 212

Laura M. Duplain

Hillsboro High School

"Apology" 213

Cassi Elble

Hillsboro High School

"Lonely Wind" 214

Natasha Fedner

Bexley High School

"No More Hope" 215

Natasha Fedner

Bexley High School

"Like Me" 217

Andrea George

Riverside High School (Painesville)

"Clown Nomads" 218

Aaron Greener

Hilliard Darby High School

"Squirrel Demon" 218

Aaron Greener

Hilliard Darby High School

"The Doors: A Trilogy" 219

Rachel Hollander

Bexley High School

"Back to the Beginning" 221

Leah Hurley

Ellet High School (Akron)

"Piano" 222

Kyla Kelch

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Ten Years" 223

Matt Klochak

Hilliard Darby High School

"Solitary" 224

Anne Kraemer

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

"Anticipatory" 226

Danielle Lake

Hilliard Darby High School

"One Way or the Other" 227

Cynthia Lehr

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Ice Storm" 228

Christine Lonergan

Bexley High School

"Priorities" 229

Rodrigo Lopez

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"Priceless" 230

Amber Mahaffey

Hillsboro High School

"Realization" 231

Amber Mahaffey

Hillsboro High School

"Come Back" 232

Josh McGregor

West Geauga High School (Chesterland)

"Spoiled, Who Me? Never!" 233

Emily Mecklenburg

West Geauga High School

"Lines by an Old Fogy" 234

Victorian Melson

Colonel White High School (Dayton)

"The Last Game" 235

Scott Mulligan

Kenton High School

"The Train" 236

Kelly Nordstrom

Beavercreek High School

"Reflection at Midnight/Chaos" 237

Kristin Osborn

Kenton High School

"On Life" 239

Jeff Paquin

The Wellington School (Columbus)

"Untitled" 240

Hilari S. Penna

Hilliard Darby High School

"If Only It Could Be Reality" 241

Katie Pepe

Brookfield High School

"The Forgotten Protector" 242

Greg Peters

St. Ignatius High School (Brecksville)

"A Rape" 243

Hillary Ran

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

"One Second Reflection" 244

Stephen Reinhardt

Hilliard Darby High School

"Littleton" 245

BreAnna Robbins

Hilliard Darby High School

"Night Hawks" 247

BreAnna Robbins

Hilliard Darby High School

"Regrets" 248

BreAnna Robbins

Hilliard Darby High School

"Wishing for an Indian Summer" 249

BreAnna Robbins

Hilliard Darby High School

"Aphrodite's Saber" 250

Amber Lynne Rood

Westland High School (Galloway)

"A Friend" 251

Christina Salim

The Wellington School (Columbus)

"The Boy and His Bicycle" 253

Josh Schuster

Liberty High School (Youngstown)

"Life" 254

Josh Schuster

Liberty High School (Youngstown)

"Dream" 255

Sarah Scroggy

Aurora High School

"Poem #11" 256

Anna Seidel

Talawanda High School (Oxford)

"Unlisted Number" 257

Katie Snowden

Kenton High School

"Grendel" 258

Jennifer Szostek

Hudson High School

"The Day the Tornado Hit" 259

Rachel Taylor

Centennial High School (Columbus)

"In Me" 261

Jeni Tepe

Anderson High School (Cincinnati)

"He Is Something" 263

Takasha Turner

Hillsboro High School

"Day by Day" 264

Librette Tye

Roger Bacon High School (Cincinnati)

"Cold Stone Steps" 265

Faith Wagoner

Hilliard Darby High School

"Music of the Spheres" 266

Jason Waller

Field High School (Suffield)

"Shoes" 267

Mary K. Watters

Marysville High School

"An Enchanted Night" 268

Heather Weeks

Pickerington High School

"Laughter" 269

Heather Weeks

Pickerington High School

"In Pencil" 270

Erin Wheeler

Notre Dame Academy (Toledo)

Prize Winner

Stacey Decker

Grade 10

North Royalton High School

Teacher: Mr. Walter DeMattie

they would turn on my light at five

and let me squinting wake

in the bleakness of black summer

morning

shake my shoulders

saying

don't you want to see it

silly girl

it won't be there forever

pajama-clad I sit on the porch

chin on palms elbows on knees

gazing up

I couldn't find it at first

there, he said

pointing my gaze

suspended over the basketball hoop

looking like any other star

but not somehow

if you squint

maybe you can see its tail

my father said

and my mother laughed at

both of us

childish beings pointing

fascinated at what lives above

on hope of clear skies

it could survive tonight

and be here tomorrow

but fade

as dreams do

and this will soon

they won't wake me to wonder

up at five anymore

and there will be emptiness

in the sky over the basketball hoop

Miki Ashino

The Wellington School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Cheryl Orebaugh

I opened the door

Everyone, whose eyes were red,

Smiled widely at me.

But their broad, brave faces

Brimmed wet with sadness.

The air hung heavily on my body.

Grandfather, who had always made me laugh,

Was lying on the bed.

But as I touched his face,

My body stiffened like an iron bar.

He was cold, a cold I had never felt

From him in my life,

And my eyes drowned in tears.

Grandfather,

I cannot see your smile any more,

I cannot talk to you,

I cannot hear your jokes,

And I cannot feel your warmth.

You answered all my childhood queries

When I was puzzled and confused.

You were always on the go.

Are you playing Go?

Where did you go?

Please answer me,

Please, please, answer me,

As you always used to,

And please make me laugh again,

Please, please, grandfather . . .

Charlie Black

Grade 11

The Seven Hills School (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Mrs. Elizabeth Trobaugh

In a crash through a burning wall,

A fireman saves a child.

I had waited for so long,

Watching yellow-orange snakes slithering

Up and down and through the walls,

Heard them hissing,

Calling my name from all sides,

Felt the tightening coil,

Imagined suffocation.

I lay there waiting

For the lightning bite to strike

When in a crash your arms

Hacked through the soft, wet wall

To see me staring,

Picked me up,

Took me,

My eyes having never moved.

Danielle Conkle

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

It seemed to me

The trees I climbed

Grew smaller

Not taller

And I loved those swings

Higher, higher

I kicked my shoes off

And laughed and loved

Our days we spent there

There used to be this creek

So long and spread apart . . .

We risked the rush

Backed up a space

Raced!

. . . and jumped.

And the hard, clay-ridden ground

We poked and dug

For worms and adventure

Pretended we were natives

Making ancient pots and tools.

Blackberries, cranberries, strawberries, and more!

We'd pick and choose

The large and plump

Making treats

Swirls of whipped cream

Topping the top it overflowed!

We'd sneak mom's kitchen knives

To carve twigs into our creation

Our imagination.

Hide and seek

The midnight gang I called them

Catching fireflies

Giggling as we let them loose

In the house, our rooms.

Lighting up a ceiling full of

Glowing comforts

Smiles as we slipped into a dream.

How small those trees seem

Now.

I thought I'd never reach

That branch.

Or be this old

Find new friends

Keep new secrets.

I went to jump across the creek

The other day

But I found a bridge across the place

. . . I jumped instead.

Stacey Decker

Grade 10

North Royalton High School

Teacher: Mr. Walter DeMattie

come on, it'll be fun

my father pleaded

and my eyes subconsciously rolled

up and around. I loaded

my bike in the back of the van,

wiped my hands on my shorts

after touching the sunsweat water

bottle,

threw my leg over the seat--

and off! dust of the path spun

to paint

my tires gray as they crunched

through leaves. Autumn possessed

superior fire--sunlight poured through

overhead trees, jeweled leaves

crisp enough in the air

inhale that as I pumped my legs

and down off either side of the path

follow in faith two ribbons

of blinding silver in sunlight

with currents that play across

the streambeds, changing and forming

with the hills. Still water

with reeds

"Do you see it?" he said

screech to brake in the dust

where I breathed, and it stepped among

the shallows with its graceful

neck and needle of a beak balanced

with unfathomable skill on stilts,

or maybe ballet-slow, adagio steps

Then a quick movement!

it dived in a flash of

featherandwater

and beak like a dagger,

we saw the fish

get flipped upandaround

and swallowed down that slim

delicate neck.

we blinked, step by step,

back on stilts

in ballet pretending nothing amiss

an actor in blue feathers

with black beads for eyes.

mouths gaping, we shared a shrug

and a glance

under the trees

and biked on past the next rise.

Amanda Drollinger

Grade 12

Beavercreek High School

Teacher: Mr. Mike Geer

In this forest of lies is hidden

the truth

As in the dirt is hidden gold

A treasure for a terror

We seek only what is before us

As though obscured by sight

A wish for a want

I am what I wish to be

As much as what I hate

A loss for a loser

Sit here and ask me not

What you are

You are all this and more

Laura M. Duplain

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

Oh, make me read, rather than

eat coconut,

An unabridged dictionary;

Or have me make bricks

as an Egyptian Slave;

Forbid me to eat candy;

Or force me to jump off

the high diving board;

Confine me to a bed;

Or make me stay inside

on a warm, summer day;

Hang me by my feet;

Or make me sing

on national television--

Joyfully I would do these things

and Worse,

In order to skip a serving

of Coconut.

Randi Garrison

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

Down the hill,

across the bridge,

and past the deserted railroad

sits the little farm with the path I once ran down,

enjoying the simple things in life.

I no longer run down that path.

If it's still there, I don't know.

Does the waist-high, dry grass grow on the left side,

and does the right still hold the stalks of corn?

Is the abandoned brick house I once ran toward still standing?

And, if so, is it still waiting for someone,

For me?

But most of all I wonder

if a little girl ever runs down that path,

falling,

only to have her grandfather pick her up,

dust her off,

and send her on her way toward

the old brick house.

If so, I pray she always keeps that brick house in her mind,

remembering the simple things in life,

not allowing the real world to consume her.

Allison Hamilton

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

I love the sound

of my grandpa

scooping ice cream for my grandmother

in a 1930 parlor.

I love the sound

of my grandpa

tugging on his flannel shirts,

trapping me in healing hugs.

I love the sound

of my grandpa--

Round, pink candies

sneaking through handshakes,

falling in my palm.

I love the sound

of my grandpa

reaching for his hat,

perching it sideways--

looking like Fred Astaire.

I love the sound

of my grandpa

laughing in the barber shop,

talking to the boys,

calling me granddaughter.

Jessica Howard

Grade 11

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

Go barefoot: as much as possible. Go barefoot

when you're happy, upset, feeling young

or feeling old. Go barefoot when you're

in love, when you're stressed, or when it's

just too hot for shoes.

Go barefoot: and feel. Feel the cool

calming sand between your toes and the

slick mud sliming under your

soles. Feel how soft new carpet

is and how rough tree branches

can be. Feel how icy linoleum floors

re at night. Just feel it all.

Go barefoot: in delicate spring

grass, in the car, at your wedding.

Do not go barefoot on sizzling asphalt,

around dogs, or in certain stores.

Go barefoot: but still be good to your

feet. Leave callouses alone--you

need those. Tend to blisters--you don't

need those. Forget cute toe rings--

they only make toes sore. Do not go

barefoot in snow. Love your

feet and act as though they're beautiful.

Now,

go barefoot.

Kyla Kelch

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

It would be cold outside, and the sky would be without stars.

There would be no moon, but the clouds would swirl low, close to the grass.

It would take one push to make you fall, and dust would rise when you touched the ground.

I would bend over you, close enough to kiss your face.

I would straighten up instead, shove my hands in my pockets and whistle

casually as I step over you, maybe digging my heels into your chest where

your heart would be.

I would not see the tear in your eye!

It would take one push to make you fall, if I believed in revenge.

Rachel Kurschat

Grade 11

Notre Dame Academy (Toledo)

Teacher: Mrs. Laura Gallaher

Huddling against frigid breezes,

Night engulfing us.

Pavement slick from earlier rains.

My father's footprints stay like memories.

Following, carefully stepping in fading fantasies,

Shortening strides to match his.

Remembering childhood,

Jumping from step to step.

Little feet filling a fraction of his footprint.

Miranda Landusky

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

Return

your BODY

to the store

Hang your HEAD on the

sales rack

Fold your

ARMS on the

shelf

Hand your

Tummy to the

clerk

But keep your

HEART to find your

way home

Rodrigo Lopez

Grade 10

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

Shut up

You're being educated

Life's tough

Fool!

Why would now be then?

If symmetry has killed our spring again

Rough sheets

Hard pillows

Sleep's thick

Can't breathe

Deteriorated songs

Broken-down gods

Old dead chants

Old dead lives

If roaches survive

If cats must be skinned

If life is a circle

If I could look up

She Creates

She Maintains

She Destroys

Hilari S. Penna

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

it's a raymond chandler evening

at the end of someone's day

i am standing in my pocket

and i'm slowly turning gray

i remember what i told you

but i can't remember why

the thousand leaves are falling

in a spiral from the sky

there's a body on the railings

that i can't identify

and i'd like to reassure you

but i'm not that kind of guy

it's a raymond chandler evening

and the pavements are all wet

but i'm waiting in the shadows

cuz it hasn't happened . . . yet

Hillary Ran

Grade 12

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Ms. Marilyn Herring

Secrets slither like snakes

into every interloping ear

in a youthful "he said, she said"

language.

Easy to hear, hard to understand.

Girls, who knock hard at the door

to womanhood,

stunt their growth with the steroids

of life,

becoming overwhelmed

by their own bloody hands,

midgets

in a realm where bigger is better,

stronger is more efficient,

and prettier is more effective.

A friend may come to you,

melancholy but still beautiful,

and say,

"I am feeling pretty close to Heaven,"

and you wonder if it is the angels

who are making her cry.

Because her eyes have always

been vessels

for the traumatic circumstances

they were exposed to,

along with every tear

she wanted to cry.

Yet still,

she is like a rainbow to you

that reaches both sides

of our flat, colorless world.

and sprinkles its kaleidoscopic rays

to every mourning soul.

So you feel this place

start to crumble.

Its morals slandered, its heart dead.

Deep, absorbing graves dug

by the children,

for the children

who, intelligent as they are,

never seemed to learn

that this corrupt institution

is no dwelling

in which to beg for sanctuary.

Elizabeth Seeley

Grade 12

Kenton High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Brooks

Breaking up is difficult to do, but necessary if your boyfriend has been unfaithful THAT CHEATING JERK during your relationship. To handle this situation, the first thing to do is BUY A GUN remember to stay calm. A big confrontation will bring only hard feelings WAIT UNTIL HE'S HOME between you and your ex. Do not consider getting back together with him BREAK INTO HIS ROOM because your trust in him has been permanently damaged. Go out with friends, spend time with family, anything to get your mind off NOW GET YOUR REVENGE being upset about the break up. Finally, remember that this is not your fault and that you can find a better boyfriend BLOW HIS HEAD OFF. Now don't you feel better?

Anna Seidel

Grade 11

Talawanda High School (Oxford)

Teacher: Mrs. Julian

It is a pity to forget the

daydream child

who roams about with such

quiet stillness

I didn't forget

the trees

the grass

the flowers

the living

the dead

I didn't forget

The daydream child came into my room last night

and crawled into my brain.

I didn't forget,

did you?

Chanda Lee Steffey

Grade 10

Ellet High School (Akron)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Baltrinic

A light shines from within the corridor,

And searching for nothing,

I press my face against the glass.

But frantic eyes are merely rewarded

With a dirty reflection of the apathetic tears

As they tributary through the smudges on my cheeks.

Lifting my voice to the heavens

That press down heavily on my stooped shoulders

And make me feel small,

I scream to the unknown and hidden places of my childhood--

"Let me hurt you!"

The sound waves of my cry dissipate into the cement

Where the chalk drawings of children

Prove that Spider Man is now a demon.

And while there will always be trips to the playground

With first loves,

the faces below these discarded pigtails

Have forgotten how to blush.

But if graceful patience would allow me

To remember up to now,

I would do it all again

Because I can still see my spirit,

She does terjetas through the weeds that grow

In the cracks of the abandoned four square courts.

I was never good at that game.

Besides,

Summer doesn't last forever anymore,

And my feet are too big to play hopscotch.

Jennifer Szostek

Grade 12

Hudson High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Veith

Shall I pour out these liquid words

Onto your head like so much water?

They would only wash over your ears

And drip down your face into your lap.

You look startled to find a participle

Dangling from your nose.

Don't laugh at the nouns and verbs

Which tickle your sides when I speak!

Try to clean the crusty past tenses

From behind your ears

And don't forget to scrub those

Amusing alliterations

from between your toes.

When you have finished

cleansing yourself

Of those pesky commas,

I'll hand you a figure of speech

To dry off with.

Heather Weeks

Grade 12

Pickerington High School

Teacher: Mrs. Low

I see through eyes of many shapes

set in the faces of rainbows.

I drift from one world to the next,

never stopping to take a rest.

My mind moves always without a break,

taking risks that were never

mine to take.

I lose myself in a world of dragons

and find myself riding

on a caravan wagon.

I soar across the sky on wings

and see both wonderful

and horrible things.

I pass through portals

of distance and time,

living in worlds that were never mine.

I am a soldier on a battle front.

I am an actor doing a stunt.

I am a unicorn prancing with glee.

I am a magical pixie.

I've fought on both sides

of every war.

I've listened to tales of every lore.

I have been the dragon,

and I have been the knight.

I've been the hunter

and the bird in flight.

Every world that I have journeyed

has become a part of me.

But there are still so many worlds

that I have left to see.

Rachael Adair

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

Pink against the blue--

Oh, the beauty of the two.

Flamingoes flying by,

Lighting up the sky.

Yellow against the blue--

Oh, the beauty of the two.

The sun in the sky,

Catching my eye.

White against the blue--

Oh, the beauty of the two.

Puffy clouds up high--

I wish I could fly.

Rachael Adair

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

They were there, dressed in white,

With sapphires running down their faces.

I have been to this place a few times before,

Always for the same reason.

Dark sadness would fill the space,

And with the draining of their sorrow from their eyes,

Hope seemed forever lost.

Yet, this time the gathering seemed different.

It was the same room, with much the same flowers down front.

The same three section of brown wooden branches,

And mostly the same faces, sitting with rivers flooding their eyes.

And the sad words of loss were still the same.

Yet something was different.

The white dresses, the daughters wore,

The dismal look upon their faces.

Even with the crying, something was different.

I knew death was there, because I had been there before.

However, there was something else present.

Life! The word would echo into the air,

Ringing out above the cries.

We wanted to remember her,

The way she lived her hundred years.

We gathered, like so many times before,

With sadness draping our faces.

Yet the difference was the woman,

Lying there before her loved ones.

She lived a life, possessed the power of strength.

She witnessed some of her own children leave the world before she did.

And the period of time in which she existed:

A Depression, World Wars, Civil Rights, the Era of Technology.

I will never know how hard a life she travelled through.

Yet she lived to be more than one hundred.

Being there and seeing her, finally at peace,

Finally able to rest after her long life,

Was the difference.

And we gathered, like we had many times before,

In that place to lay to rest the body,

But not the life or soul.

We celebrated life that gloomy day in December--

The life of an ordinary woman

Who led an extraordinary life.

Charlie Black

Grade 11

The Seven Hills School (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Mrs. Elizabeth Trobaugh

I used to play with you out there on the field.

I no longer play on the field,

Though I have never left the game.

I scan this celebrated picture of you

Here on the front page:

Your friends and teammates clasp your neck

And hang from it in adoration.

Your smile tells it all--

What you have just done.

Your arms are raised in triumph

For all to see

Taut muscles and veins running up and down.

All praise your glorious image,

Heroic and eternally youthful.

But do not forget that I put you there

Where all gaze at you in admiration,

And I stand there with you.

You exist for all as I have captured you,

In the triumphant cage I made for you.

Do not forget my name stands there, too,

Quietly content,

In the corner.

Joe Bridenbaugh

Grade 10

Unioto High School (Chillicothe)

Teacher: Mrs. Judy Hoops

He went without warning;

He left with a simple goodbye;

Drafted,

That's all I heard him say.

He sent a postcard,

Through it all;

It just said, "Love be with all";

That's all I heard him say.

Then we got a call,

From a man in the Army;

"No survivors"--

That's all I heard him say.

David Brome

Grade 10

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

Blasted trippin off Bacardi an acid

Big bouncer mofos at the door wanna

Check ID I say f-you and smoke anotha tree

Lit-up I'm in a strip club grabbin big booties

Smoke anotha tree

A girl wanna give me a lap dance I say no

And then I beat that ho into the flo

Now the parties live

I'm here to tear da club up

Got my boys on the celly

I'm packin a 9 milly

Ready to bust on any --- who wants some

So thun get yo ishnit

Sunson bust you ishnit

That's it time to go home

Christen Buoni

Grade 12

Liberty Christian Academy (Pickerington)

Teacher: Ms. Rebecca L. Ramsey

I am standing at the altar of my will

On a cove of a jagged mountain path

The rocky peaks engulf me

with their towering presence

A chill in the thin, twilight air.

I am standing at the altar

of my will,

Listening silently to distantly

rolling thunder.

I am waiting at an altar

made of stone,

And I can almost feel its cold, sharp

edges penetrating my roaming mind

And piercing deeply my soul.

The last rays of sunlight sink slowly

from my eyes

And cast a dull, eerie light

upon the knife held in my hands.

My tears are pouring

through the shadows over my sight

As I mourn over this sacrifice

That lies before me now.

Time is shoving me regretfully

forward

to the still shape before me,

And a presence of power comes over me

To hold these shaking hands

that I long to hide--

But the blade is there,

And I'm standing at the altar

of my will--

My life.

How many times I have reached

this peak

Only to hide my will beneath

my cowardly excuse;

How many times I have reached

this altar

only to leave my burning tears.

But I am back--

At the altar of my will

With a knife in my cold hands

And a power by my side.

With horror I glance at the altar--

at my face staring back at me.

Maybe it is only my reflection

dancing in my flooding tears,

But somewhere deeper I know

the truth.

Within this deeper somewhere,

the image fades and blurs--

It is my Lord I see on another altar,

And I am standing close,

holding nails and a hammer

in my shaking hands.

I feel a tearing in my heart

and the sound of weeping

from high above.

But the image is fading fast,

And I cry and tear at my will

on the altar of stone.

I glance down in my fury of pain

And behold my shaking hands

now empty.

The moonlight fills my hands

with warmth and truth,

And the knife is gone at last.

I dare breathe again,

even as the last breath of night

breathes past

And the constant thunder dies

forever;

Yet somewhere deep within the altar

A voice rings out clear:

"It is finished,"

And I begin my journey home

With the break of dawn upon

a cleared sky and cleansed heart,

And the altar of my will

Behind me today.

Michael Chapman

Grade 12

Warrensville Heights High School

Teacher: Ms. Karen Vincent

Soul as old as time

Moves anyone who listens

Ever-changing face

Danielle Conkle

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

I'm sorry I didn't thank you for coming.

I appreciated it.

I may not be

As thoughtful as you

When it comes to birthday cards and gifts.

My thank-you's are in my smiles

And sometimes slip my words.

I'm sorry we're not close.

I'm sorry I've had no influence on you,

Because you've influenced me.

I'm sorry all the

Joys of a sister

Were lacking.

I'm sorry we didn't play games together

When we were little

Because I thought we did

. . . sometimes.

We may not have been the best friends,

But you should see how your sis

Admires you

Flatters you to her friends

Because she loves you.

So I'm sorry.

I should have thanked you

For being so thoughtful and caring for coming.

But I cannot thank you

For what you did to me in that kitchen

You told me I had left nothing in your life,

That I had been nothing in your life.

I'm sorry that's how it's been.

I'm sorry that's how it is.

I'm sorry.

Danielle Conkle

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

Beating, beating rays

Pouring, dripping from the blue blur

Burning deeply from the golden glare

Why mystery!

That angst-ridden globe.

Tilted

Squinting

Bending sweat trickling salt

To every crown and catch of her face.

Heavy hum of turning blades

Lifts and breathes

Lifts a breeze

Ripples over a valley of curves

Pulling the silky blanket of oils down the sides

Slippery sides

Of thighs, arms, and breasts.

Keely Crites

Grade 10

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

I watch my back as I walk in the door.

Never know who will make idle threats realities.

The conformers stick close together in herds.

Metal detectors can stop the weapons

But no one has invented a machine that can stop the hate.

All the signs are ignored until it's too late.

The ones who were ostracized are now known by the world.

I sit here appalled by my generation.

Heather Davidson

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

spider dreams,

woven in the grass,

are gold

in the sun's

final promise

of the day.

I wonder

if the dreamer

knows what the earth is,

what it is saying,

and I wonder

if it was the earth

who taught this

perfection of dreams

to those we think

less superior,

those the earth

deems more worthy

than us.

Heather Davidson

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

my mother's

(conditional)

love

my father's

(superficial)

support

don't go

very far

there is

(always)

structure

they are

(always)

in control

am i selfish

when i say

i want a

little freedom

(just a little)

time

before i

become them?

(yes)

Heather Davidson

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

The cardboard roof

over my head is still soggy

from last night's rain,

and the thought

of pulling myself out from under my only blanket

to enter this hell

you

call life

is more than I can think about

right now

because I have nothing to eat,

nowhere to go

and besides

it's too cold out,

but my blanket is warm

so I plan on staying

here

for the rest of the day

Alisha Dearth

Waterford

A long time ago,

In a castle on a hill,

Lived a little old woman

With a son named Will.

He wasn't very handsome,

And he wasn't very smart,

But she loved him just the same

With only a mother's heart.

As the prince was preparing for bed,

On a cold and stormy night,

He happened to look outside

And see a moving light.

So he padded down the stairs,

In his cap and gown,

To see that the little light

Was coming from the town.

He tried to beat the butler

From getting to the door,

But wasn't watching where he stepped

And slipped on an apple core.

The butler could not help

But laugh at the scene

And went to tell the mother

Her son had ripped a seam.

Meanwhile, the little boy

Ran to the door

And opened it just a crack

To see what it held in store.

He saw a little figure,

Shivering and wet,

He looked at her from head to toe,

Then noticed her little pet.

He ran back inside the house

And fetched a passing maid

To prepare a room

For the little girl's stay.

He opened the door slowly

To offer the girl a bed,

But lying on the doorstep

Was a tiny rose instead.

Stacey Decker

Grade 10

North Royalton High School

Teacher: Mr. Walter DeMattie

I radiated into the night waves of apprehension, the dragon

curled above me wrapped

in the embrace of cold steel sighing

screeching to a stop

the line of complacent complying citizens

winds around to enter the mouth

yet they all want to be there

bored for an hour

restless anticipation in a minute's thrill

seeking safethrills simply enough

forward writhing line slowly

painstakingly

forward and stillnot close enough

to touch the beast, clasp the closest

palm of the closest

ally of yours smile convince

myself I'm all right.

clumsily step and sit with shattered knees of weak

thoughts, oh comfort

to be smotheredfastened in place

stomach contorted smileon face

a creak it's off to speeds uncouth

my eyes shocked open breath weaseled by speed

only function within tells my voice to scream

limbs detached head jostling but it can't

fall off my neck

upside rightside inside out down up or blur

thrill rising grin and it stops.

breathe. breathe.

"smile at companion:

isn't it great?"

but it's not ov-

er

yet--and jerked away to twist and scream

andspeedandflipand

roar

and cheer to those who wait on

the platform when

we screech to a

stop to a

halt, wanting

more

Stacey Decker

Grade 10

North Royalton High School

Teacher: Mr. Walter DeMattie

inspiration had driven him

to his table

comfort squeezed out with globs

of paint

reassuring to introduce brush

and sunlit canvas

his painting gradually

took on depth and shape

yet brush and soul suffered

insurmountable battle

his muscles toughened within

tense eyes took in his painting

which had gone where it hadn't begun

layer after layer added, remixed

and thought he could spot improvement

the uncomfortable optimist: yes, he

could fix the faces

that want of life,

the background of dimension.

eyes narrowed from a face

scattered with oils

lips chewed enough to taste blood

around his studio he paces

stops to stare at the easel

that betrayed him.

the paints he cleans up,

the preliminary sketches

torn and thrown away

as are the hours

such quiet, somber hours of life

wasted while painting a masterpiece

that wouldn't paint itself.

he lays the canvas flat

on the table

gazing at three square feet

of mistake

fingers his paintbrush

and snaps it in two. It doesn't

make a satisfying ring as it hits

the metal trash can

but dull resonance of the colors

in his work.

silent dark in the studio

details colors

in the spoiled painting

are faint

sad looks in mistrust,

his talent awry

while secret tears

mingle with wasted paint.

Nicole Derifield

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

As I

look into the mirror I see

the reflection of the walls, the doorway,

and everything else in the room. I start thinking

I bet the world in the mirror is better than the world out here.

I bet that in that world Mom and Dad aren't divorced,

Barb and I aren't in a state of confusion,

Andy feels the same way that I do, and I didn't get hurt.

There are no drugs, alcohol, or crime there.

No sin. A world totally at peace with itself.

But I realize this is just a mirror,

that that world doesn't exist.

This is the world I

am in and this

is the way

it is.

Kristina K. Dunn

Grade 12

Fairfield High School

Teacher: Mrs. Steele

A red rose

Blooming in the depth of the night

And a white rose

Blossoming at sunrise,

They both know no pain--

Only hope.

They bloom to show

Something better on the inside,

Not just thorns.

Petals open in blissful array,

Releasing their sweet fragrance,

Bidding welcome to all.

I wish I were more like a rose;

Red with passion and love

That the bitter night air

could not cool;

White with innocence

That this cruel world

could not destroy.

Every rosebud has a choice,

To bloom,

With the possibility

of painful exposure,

Or to wither,

Safe from the outside world.

I will bloom

In the depth of the night

And I will blossom

At the sun's grand ascent.

This world will not bind me

And I will not wither.

I will love with passion,

Fight for my innocent heart,

Take a chance

And blossom.

Laura M. Duplain

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

Fall in love: but this time

not too fast. Use the grace

that God gave you to be caught

on a feather

in mid air.

Fall in love: but be yourself,

act natural, without changing a flaw,

so you may feel what true love is.

Fall in love: but try to be

understanding,

with an extended ear for listening,

and a heart purer than gold

for forgiving.

Now

fall in love.

Laura M. Duplain

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

Summertime

reminds me of the picnic dinners

we used to eat

and of the snow white blanket,

the one Mama would place

on the icy, cool grass.

I can still smell

the home-fried chicken,

and cinnamon cookies.

Under the tree,

the ribbons in our hair

would flutter in the wind.

Cassi Elble

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

This is a poem to my sister, Megan,

whom I have embarrassed

hundreds of times.

Please forgive me for

those slobbery kisses--

the ones I gave you in public places

just to make you turn

that shade of pink.

I'm sorry for

reading your personal thoughts

tucked away in a leatherbound

journal, hidden in that jungle

under your bed.

I regret scrambling

the one-thousand-piece puzzle

that took you a month

to finish.

I thought that you were so

mature,

but you were naive

just like me now,

the one who is growing

as

each

day

passes

to find herself becoming

more like you.

Natasha Fedner

Grade 10

Bexley High School

Teacher: Mrs. Molly Hoey

The wind blew west, then east, then south,

It looked about and saw no more leaves left to tempt down

And then it stopped.

From the autumn trees.

No more flowers to playfully bend and sway.

Just snow.

Blinding diamond-white snow

Everywhere.

Still slightly shocked, the wind crept over the rooftops

And tugged at the icicles,

But they wouldn't budge.

It tickled them,

But they wouldn't laugh.

The wind erupted in a moan of loneliness and grew depressed.

It lifted a funnel swirl of snowflakes,

But they settled back to the ground without resistance, indifferent

To their fate.

The wind sang the song of summer,

But there were no sun-baked humans to hear it,

No humans to kiss with cool breath and whisper softly to.

There was no hot sun to battle or argue with,

Just its cold cousin hanging lifeless among the clouds.

The wind grew tired and fell asleep among the frozen trees,

And dreamt of summer.

Natasha Fedner

Grade 10

Bexley High School

Teacher: Mrs. Molly Hoey

It's dark and cold here.

No light.

No bread.

No hope.

I miss my mother, father, and brothers

I miss myself the most.

No frilly dresses, pretty skirts.

No cup of tea at noon.

Just Saidy, Rivka, and me, and the cold and wicked moon.

The moon glares slyly in this camp.

It cares not for our troubles.

It cares not for our pain.

For hate is much easier when you have someone innocent to blame.

My little hands are skeletal, tattooed with 30452.

My sunken eyes have lost their once amazing baby blue.

My gorgeous curls were shaved away.

My face dehumanized.

Saidy, Shainy, Rivka, and me--we're not humans, the Germans cried.

I wonder what I did so wrong to end up in this Hell.

I feel as if it's my soul I've had to sell.

The others say, don't worry, child.

God will save us some day.

Their bony frames in tattered clothes cast shadows as they pray.

I've lost all hope,

All sense of time.

I feel so numb and cold.

I know that if I want to stay alive,

I must stay strong and bold.

We're weak and tired,

Surprised to be alive.

Hell looks like heaven when you're in this slaughter hive.

Each night I pray that I will not wake up to see the blinding sun.

Each night I say I must not turn and run.

Each night I tell myself these words:

I know the strongest shall survive,

But in a world so full of hate, is it worth this pain to stay alive?

Andrea George

Grade 12

Riverside High School (Painesville)

Teacher: Mr. Roger Hart

Comfortable in a cushioned chair

Reader's Digest between my hands

Surrounded by pictures of perfect

smiles

My sister in the dentist's chair

Turning the pages, I come across

a picture:

A terrible collision between a car

and a deer

Curious, I started reading

A girl, age 17, got her license

one year ago, like me

Never in trouble, a good kid

Only one problem--speeding

That night, six filled the car,

all behind the belts

90 in a 50

Down a long, dirt road

Laughter filled the air.

2 a.m.--a deer jumped out

The car flipped twice

Laughter turned to screaming,

then silence

It landed in a muddy ditch

Everyone rushed to the hospital

The deer died.

A tiny voice off in the distance,

"Andrea, I'm done."

My sister was ready to go

But I wondered if we'd be next.

Aaron Greener

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

Clowns circle the Earth

Searching for their lost temple

It lies undersea

A furry squirrel

His eyes see into my soul

He controls my thoughts

Rachel Hollander

Bexley High School

Teacher: Mrs. Molly Hoey

He looks like a teenager

Chipped corners and uneven coloring.

He has a kind of brownish-yellow stain that dresses

Him.

A broken knob just dangles there,

Like popcorn on a string

.The sound of the slam on most days stings at first

Then it gradually dies down.

BAM! Bam bam

Bam . . . bam.

His keyhole is worn away

What was he trying to keep out? Who?

Broken, ignored and just Him.

She is a dreamer

Her head is high up in the clouds

Oh, she says it with her looks.

All over tan with natural line designs

Pictures everywhere, it's perfectly her

It all meshes well together, especially her slam!

SHRAMMMM!

It's a single sound

She is dense, her sound says so

But the way light hits off her

Oh, she radiates

With pure spunk!

I am different

Light does not shine on me, it just soaks in.

I don't show what goes on inside

Mysteries are my thing.

A realist, definitely.

The grooves and swirls lead somewhere,

But I've never taken the time to find out where.

I'm loud

I look funny--smart, but funny.

Have a singular, crisp sound

Simple, but complex

I work--it works

Together--yeah, I'm sometimes that, too.

Leah Hurley

Grade 10

Ellet High School (Akron)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Baltrinic

I am back to the beginning,

Back to nothing now.

To the small prenatal folds of the womb.

Wrapped in the blood red fluids,

Without the Insertion of Life.

Featureless,

Joyless,

Passionless,

Now is the time to choose;

Whether to abort myself,

Or grow out of the fetal position.

I have not yet learned to scream or cry out loud,

To feel a heart or soul in my body,

Or what it is like to live outside of this security.

--I have no Point of Reference for life.

Slowly as I pause in delay of an answer,

I feel the shape of my anthropomorphic form

. . . and time unravelling itself

In its own banal denouement--

The final act of the Grand Old Show.

It wears itself down into one of these blue veins surrounding me.

Do I cut it?

Or last it out a little longer,

Waiting for it to be filled with a beat?

Kyla Kelch

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

He approached the bench silently.

Taking another step towards it, he breathed in the smell of the waxy wood and polished ivory.

Sitting down on the cushioned bench, arranging his fingers, his eyes stared straight on, unfazed.

Then, ever so slowly, he pressed down, notes melody, harmony, music,

rising up out of the piano, swirling around him and then the entire room.

His eyes were closed, his head erect, but his body and fingers relaxed.

His feet controlled the pedals with soft strength, swelling the ballad to a climax,

and then sprinkling out the conclusion, to a sure and quiet close.

Matt Klochak

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

Children play outside

their voices echo off the walls

you love their precious faces

but hate the people they will become

Buy from their lemonade stands

ten years later they're stealing your car

the boy who sat on your front porch

now sits in the chair that will take his life

Anne Kraemer

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Mrs. Marilyn Herring

Alone,

But crowded.

A bustling menagerie,

Thousands of living creatures

Crammed into hundreds of miles.

Canyonland.

Deep, ferocious, forbidding.

The seven devils prey in Hells Canyon.

Blooming, living, creating, prosperous.

Sheer rock walls.

Four-hundred-foot drop to swashbuckling rapids.

Adventure. Sandy brush shores climb

To barren, treeless summits.

My land.

Beautiful, peaceful heaven.

Soft breeze,

God fingers ruffle my hair.

Perched on a throne.

Grasses dance to the beat of my soul.

Ghosts of Natives gallop the foothills,

Thundering hooves melt away to

Ancient drumbeats.

Moonrise.

Velour pinks, reds, maroons, and tangerine

Follow the sun beyond the crest.

High on my lofty cloud,

One

With nature, with self.

River.

Pure, crystal, virgin.

Snaking its way through my heart.

Splashes cool,

Memories of the day.

Starlight now.

Only

Here. I can be in solitude,

But knitted and crocheted,

As one with

Thousands of voices singing a silent lullaby.

Sweet, pristine, indescribable.

Nature.

Danielle Lake

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

the excruciating torment

of waiting another day

craving the sweet taste

of your lips

the soft touch

of your fingers

the smooth curves

of your body

and i sit here alone

feeling the quiet anguish

of your absence

Cynthia Lehr

Grade 12

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

You can't go wrong

if you start from the beginning

unless, of course,

you don't know what you're doing.

Some start from the end

and go backwards,

answer first

and then ask questions.

Is nighttime first,

and then daytime?

Why does the youngest go first

when the older has been longer

in line?

If there is a question,

is there always an answer?

If there is an answer,

is there always a question?

Christine Lonergan

Grade 10

Bexley High School

Teacher: Mrs. Molly Hoey

While in the warmth and comfort of my room,

I hear the murmur of a change outside.

It is the soft, steady patter of ice

Gently bouncing off the roof above.

All is still and silent the next morning

Besides the distant grating scraping of

A shovel, hard against the clinging ice.

The trees, bushes, houses, and cars,

Glistening under a casing of glass,

The light leaves me blinded, but makes me smile,

For school is closed, and it is a snow day.

Are brilliantly beaten by the sun.

Rodrigo Lopez

Grade 10

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

 I can go talk to God after this cigarette.

The end, the beginning, now.

I'll worry about it when I'm dying from it.

Nicotine, caffeine, nourishment.

Sleep is not as important as fun but the bags under my eyes sure hurt my social life.

Sex is good and so is love.

I hate science because science hates God, but I do love my gospel CD.

Eat drink and be merry . . . in that order.

The Father, The Son, The Holy Spirit.

God.

Bomb them all! Peace must be kept somehow.

When I don't have money to buy food it's always nice to know I have 265 channels to come home to.

"I think therefore I am."

I'm hungry and so is Somalia.

She, She, She.

I don't know.

Amber Mahaffey

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

I see love

in how

Natasha shows fearlessness,

but is afraid of herself;

in how

Kali has become predictable,

but remains spontaneous;

in how

Brandi is compassionate,

but ruthless at times;

in how

Heather is unique,

but willing to conform;

in how

Kelly has always been aggravating,

but never unloved.

All

priceless gifts

for which

I am to be thankful.

Amber Mahaffey

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

I needed

gentle, passionate kisses

soft, delicate touches

sincere, loving arms.

I wanted

to forfeit,

surrender,

melt.

I heard,

"We can't continue

but I'll love you always

know that."

I felt

anger,

betrayal,

emptiness.

I realized

until

love is more

than words,

it isn't really there.

Josh McGregor

Grade 12

West Geauga High School (Chesterland)

Teacher: Mrs. Houser

You can follow the sun around the world,

And I'll be waiting there for you.

Seasons will come and they will go,

But I will always think of you.

I can still hear your voice,

I can still see your face.

There are times that I believe

You will come back for me.

People say that I have changed,

But I know I'm just the same.

Tell me why I am wrong,

And I will go away.

I now know, the truth is told;

I now know, I am alone.

There are times that I believe

You will come back for me.

Emily Mecklenburg

Grade 12

West Geauga High School

Teacher: Mrs. Houser

My dearest darling parents

Should give me everything I desire.

The house I should inherit

Before it's taken by a fire.

A car, a convertible I believe,

Should have a leather seat,

And forever shall I grieve

If it dies in this heat.

A new outfit I have not had

In nearly twenty days.

Without one, I shall be quite mad

And may regretfully lose my way.

Oh, why can't parents be more caring.

I'm not the one who's overbearing.

Victoria Melson

Grade 9

Colonel White High School (Dayton)

Teacher: Ms. Elizabeth Ephraim

I'm thankful that the sun and moon

Are both hung up so high,

That no unthankful hand can stretch

And pull them from the sky.

If they were not, I have no doubt

But some reforming fool

Would recommend to take them down

And light the world with gas.

Scott Mulligan

Grade 12

Kenton High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Brooks

They have been this bad

the entire year,

so bad that

there is not much cheer.

I see them lose

so very much;

they need a whole lot

more than luck.

They think that this

is all there is.

To win is

their greatest wish.

I tell them there is

so much more than this.

But they still feel bad,

for that's the way it is.

Kelly Nordstrom

Grade 10

Beavercreek High School

Teacher: Mr. Scott Revis

Goodbye, papa, I'll see you soon.

The train is calling,

my tears are falling,

it's time to go--

it's half past noon.

I know that war will be tough,

but think of me when times get rough

and watch your gray sky turn to blue.

Far away the skies are gray,

but as you hold your heavy gun,

I will wipe your clouds away,

I will be your golden sun.

So, I'll say goodbye for now,

though you'll never really be alone,

'cause I will be here waiting

for my papa to come back home.

Kristin Osborn

Grade 12

Kenton High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Brooks

Sleepless nights

Endless reports and essays

Cramming for tests

(I will never pass)

Crashing at 3 a.m.

Jolted awake at 6

(Lovely alarm clock)

Waiting lists

Acceptance letters

Scholarship deadlines

Final G.P.A.

Parental conflicts (child included)

Did I really spend the last 11 years

preparing for this chaos?

Misunderstood, confused, afraid--

Will people see me differently?

Or will I still be a main-brain?

Can I really expand my world?

Or did living in this town

stunt my mental growth?

(Too much caffeine, I guess.)

The world's too big for me

I'm just a small fish

In a small pond

And I am wasted on this town.

My mind is wide open

But all others I come against

are barred.

When I find one like myself

I will rejoice.

For I will know then

That I am not alone

And will be accepted

Not for giving answers

And the size of my brain

But for the whole of me

Vocabulary and encyclopedia-reading

included.

(How cliched.)

But the truth hurts sometimes

And I have a largesse (!) of bandages

For those who will find out

(eventually)

That life is not all

Sports and Popularity.

But don't get me wrong!

For they are important.

But modeling contracts and the NFL

Will not beat down your door.

Life is not perfect.

Nor are any of us.

But it takes longer for some of us

To figure that out.

I guess that is the irony

And the game we must all play

For the rules keep changing

And so will I.

Jeff Paquin

The Wellington School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Cheryl Orebaugh

We are born from the darkness

into the light of life.

We start out crawling

to where we don't know.

We start to walk

to find where.

We start to talk

to ask where.

We spend many years

thinking about where.

We spend even more

thinking we know where.

We think it is not here

but over there.

We look for it there

but see it's not.

We start reaching the end

and stop asking where.

We start seeing it is not there

and stop looking where.

We start to forget

and stop to think where.

When we are born from the light,

we realize we were always there.

Hilari S. Penna

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

There

is more

than one way

to purify the soul.

There is absolution and redemption,

salvation, and means to an end

and if some of these axioms are

of opposing polarities--there is,

at least, some consolation in

the fact that they

have a

common

ground.

Katie Pepe

Grade 11

Brookfield High School

As I toss and turn out of my slumber

With the green grass and blue skies,

I awake from my dreams

And enter reality,

Where the grass is not so green,

The flowers not nearly as sweet,

Where the skies are all a little more gray

And the possibilities not so endless.

I see what is no longer

The world of my dreams,

But wish it to be,

And then,

Without looking,

I can see

Reality is but a dream

No one has recognized,

A dream

Where the memories fade away

Faster than they are made.

The earth is short,

And time slips away.

A dream

Where paradise is forever long

Encompassing all the world,

But never to be seen.

For this paradise of mine is something

Not for reality,

But for dreams,

And as I lie there in the blackness,

I slowly slip away

Into the place I will never see

Except in dreams, so bittersweet--

Where the skies are blue

And the possibilities are endless,

A place where time stands still.

Greg Peters

Grade 10

St. Ignatius High School (Brecksville)

Teacher: Mr. Art Thomas

It's lived a long but simple life

Fulfilled its purpose whole

Held back the wet, the hot, the sharp

Kept out the dirt and mud

It's guarded its precious cargo

From those who may protrude

Allowed only the sharp to pierce

The spike, the thorn, the nail

It never asked a thing of you

Except maybe a wash

It's often been abused in life

Without a second thought

But now this thing is all worn out

It no longer can protect

But just remember all it's done

To help you get through

With its death a new one born

This grand old raggy shoe

Hillary Ran

Grade 12

Ursuline Academy (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Ms. Marilyn Herring

He says now

That he can't talk about it--

To forget the screams,

The nightmares,

And any other horror that it brought.

He swore it would go away

If we ignored it.

He professed his guilt.

Alcohol can cause pain sometimes.

He laid his blame--

My ass looked good in that skirt.

Wasn't it a little too short, anyway?

He promised his love

With a brutal force.

He said no one will ever love me,

A whore,

Except for him.

Stephen Reinhardt

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

I was standing in the bathroom,

Alone, just fixing my hair,

Then I looked in the mirror

And you were standing there.

You never said a word to me,

We didn't exchange a glance,

But I saw that look that I'm afraid to know,

The admiration you hide in your face.

I knew you were a freshman,

And you probably know my name,

You probably dreamed to be me,

And my heart began to fill with shame.

You see me in the mornings

When I come onto the T.V.,

You notice people's reactions

As they pay attention to me.

You wish that they would notice you,

You want it to be you they see,

But instead you just sit there dreaming,

Admiring me.

But if only you could see the pain inside me,

And how I wish I could be you,

But instead I walk through the bathroom door

And into the life you want to live,

And the one I want to leave

For yours.

BreAnna Robbins

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

I was reading in the library, mom,

Just like a good kid would.

I swear that I was studying, dad,

Just like a good kid should.

I heard a yell, "Get under your desk!"

But I guess I was too slow.

Some kids in black coats

walked in with guns

And hate in their hearts.

How was I to know?

They fired off bullets.

One hit me, mom,

And then they fired some more.

They even attacked kids who

were fleeing, dad,

Running out the door.

As I lay there beside

my best friend, mom,

I notice her breathing has stopped.

I can also see that I'm bleeding, dad.

I'm frightened. Where are the cops?

If I should die before they come,

I want to let you know

I love you dearly, mom and dad,

So much you'll never know.

I don't understand what

I did to them, mom,

To make them want to kill.

I just want the entire world

to know, dad,

I don't hate them. I never will.

I'm trying not to be afraid,

Knowing that I will die.

I just wish I knew what we

good kids did

To make them take our lives.

BreAnna Robbins

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

The weathered bartender sighs

And mixes another drink

For the Jessica Rabbit look-alike

and companion across the bar.

The Fluorescent lighting buzzes

And the tired loner sips

His coffee, and watches

the tipsy couple

drinking their martinis.

The weathered bartender sighs,

Worn from the length of his day,

But mostly from the beauty

in Jessica Rabbit's eyes.

The tired loner sips,

Silent from the length of his life.

A predator going in for the kill,

gazing into Jessica Rabbit's eyes.

And in one swift swoop she's done,

With a smile and wink

of this loner's eye.

They're sauntering out the door,

bewilderment in her companion's eyes.

BreAnna Robbins

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

I wish you would have stayed.

The sunrise was bound to be beautiful

with you here.

But you left with the thought

that the moon was more beautiful.

The moon is constant, always has been,

but the sunrise is unstable,

so you doubted

it, I guess.

How magical the sunrise used to be,

but it now falls darkly

in blues and grays,

Which empowers the moon

that was always waiting

for its time to shine, dusk.

The moon unknowingly darkens the sun,

but the sun will rise again.

And someday you'll awake

to the sunrise you slept through,

And wish that you had stayed.

BreAnna Robbins

Grade 11

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

Summer . . .

And you were a drop of golden

sunshine.

You stretched out your radiant rays

And made me feel this world was mine.

Autumn . . .

And I was a leaf, changing, falling.

You wavered in the breezy crispness

To let me know this was your calling.

Winter . . .

And we turned bitter cold.

I trod along heavily in the starkness

To let you know what I was told.

Spring . . .

And that summer seems distant.

Things are changing awkwardly.

I wonder where our summer went.

Amber Lynne Rood

Grade 11

Westland High School (Galloway)

Teacher: Mr. Dave Pellior

Revelling in you

beauty

your catlike grace

pouncing

upon my psyche

Enraptured by your

strength

your silent power

playing

by my eyelashes

Admiring your

intelligence

your quiet endurance

lying

within my heart

Christina Salim

The Wellington School

Teacher: Mrs. Cheryl Orebaugh

You are my friend

Always beside me

Laughing at all my troubles

Grinning at all my misfortunes

Telling people all my faults

To make a fool of me

And laughing about my weaknesses

For they are funny to you

You are my friend

Who always replies

with a sarcastic tone

And only says nice things

When you need something

You use me for everything I have

Since you know I only have a little

But do you ever care?

Do you ever notice?

All you know is yourself

Everything will do

As long as you profit

For you are everything that matters

Oh yes, you are my friend

Who doesn't even know me

A friend who is never there

Whenever I need you

Yes, you are my friend

Who always turns against me

And never supports me

Because you are my friend?

From all things you've done to me

I can be sure

As everyone else is

That you are my friend,

my best friend.

Josh Schuster

Grade 9

Liberty High School (Youngstown)

Teacher: Mrs. Linda Byers

Blue skies.

The sun shines.

Seventy-five degrees.

A perfect atmosphere,

a perfect world.

No wars,

no harm.

Then out of nowhere

an unidentified boy ran it all over

with a bicycle.

Josh Schuster

Grade 9

Liberty High School (Youngstown)

Teacher: Mrs. Linda Byers

I was once a man with wings

who flew in the wrong direction;

now I have no wings

and yet I continue

to fly the same way.

Sarah Scroggy

Grade 9

Aurora High School

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Stroh

Sitting in the library,

I look up,

You, the perfect guy, are walking closer,

Closer

Closer.

Our eyes meet for a second,

And you smile,

That perfect smile.

And at that exact moment,

I see our life together:

Our first date, our first kiss,

Our wedding, our kids,

Even growing old together.

You're still walking towards me . . .

You stop at my desk,

You're going to ask me out!

My dreams are about to come true!

You speak:

"May I borrow your homework?"

Crushed.

Why couldn't it be my way?

But all relationships have to start somewhere.

Anna Seidel

Grade 11

Talawanda High School (Oxford)

Teacher: Mrs. Julian

I paused under a shadow of earth this day

And I felt something there

But time moves on despite

And so did I

For there is much more to go

And fields of dreams to meet up with

The sad toll of space is something to forget

How I wish that I would have stayed in that moment

Forget the world!

Forget myself!

I even passed it once again but, alas!

There is no more something for me

It drifted away as I did,

Rejected and lost

Went on to find someone who would forget with it

O, traveling is a curse

A Curse

But I promised myself to never forget that which was there

Whatever it was,

And move on

For there is much left of me

Tired as I am

I must move on

Into sadness and doubt

For there is much left of me

Katie Snowden

Grade 12

Kenton High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Brooks

Nuns in sunglasses

Mint-covered cherries

Neon green gloves

And purple blueberries

Shady-gray sunlight

Hot pink moonbeams

Forty-foot ants

On a bobsled team

Freckled-faced french fries

Tall toeless socks

Rooms without walls

And safes without locks

3-way streets

All dead-end roads

Blonde-haired aliens

5-eyed toads

Chocolate brick roads

A green-jello sea

Hardy-candy stopsigns

Jelly-bean trees

No bills no banks

No bombs no fear

Severity surrenders

And chaos appears

No fees no price no looking glass

To get inside my dream

But do not call the management

If the reality makes you scream

Jennifer Szostek

Grade 12

Hudson High School

Teacher: Mrs. Kathleen Veith

Slayer of Thanes, beware!

The moment of your demise is coming,

Fast as the sun across the sea.

While Hrothgar mourns

his bloodstained hall,

A champion leaves his sword

in the sand.

Murderer of men, take heed!

The sun comes to slake

your thirst for blood.

This one greets death

with only his hands,

Stronger than the evil which flows

in your veins.

Child of Cain, flee to the fens!

You have met your match at last.

The sun tore at your darkness

And you fled before its light,

Leaving a torn limb behind.

You are a plague to men no more,

Terror of the Night, dying.

For the sun goes by another name,

disguised.

The mighty slayer of Grendel,

The one called Beowulf.

Rachel Taylor

Grade 10

Centennial High School (Columbus)

Teacher: Mrs. Barbara Singer

The day was clear and bright

and sunny

No one expected the horror

about to strike.

It soon grew dark outside,

Huge raindrops began to fall.

Then came the awful sound

I never want to hear again.

We ran for the basement as fast

as we could,

Taking cover under any available

tables and chairs.

It was so dark I couldn't see

my family,

It was so loud I couldn't hear

myself screaming.

I could feel the power it held,

as it began to tear through our home.

I was shaking all over.

Then, just as soon as it had come,

it was gone.

I just sat there with my eyes shut,

Crying rom fright and relief

that it had gone.

I could hear the neighbors gasping,

crying and yelling,

I could imagine the horrific scene

outside.

Reluctantly I opened my eyes.

I looked out from my hiding place

And saw my family going

toward the stairs.

I ran to join them on wobbly knees.

We examined the damage outside,

How could this have happened to us?

Silently, we went back to the house.

Together we knelt on the floor.

We folded our arms

and bowed our heads.

Father said a prayer of thanks.

No matter how bad the damage

to our belongings,

We were all safe.

And that was something

to be thankful for.

Jeni Tepe

Anderson High School (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Mrs. Coleman

In my house with shattered windows

I sit and look through the ceiling

What a glorious sky outside my

isolation

Shadows of smoke on the walls

I wish you could be here

Share my silence and feel comfortable

Enough to run your beauty

Through my tangled hair

And tangle me up in knots

For you.

In my mind with my heart wide open

You pour out like hot lava

And run soothing through my veins

And down my skin

Until I'm content to sleep

And the image of you in my dreams

Is enough to make me never want

To wake.

In my fear and I'm running fast

Through patches of your mist

That you left behind when you ran

From me, so far away

I don't want to be here without you

I try to find my way through this fog

But I can't without your hand

To see me through.

In my silence I scream so loud

Just to know that my brain can still

Function and my voice will still

Muster up meaningless words

To ramble on endlessly and try

to fill

This void in my soul

Without your voice to sing me

To sleep.

In my bed I swim through tears

And my head keeps pounding

So heavy, so hard, so hurt, my heart

Sheets are cold and there's

too much space

So I watch the moon outside my

shattered

Window of isolation

And wonder that maybe if I hadn't

wanted so badly

You would've returned

You were my breath, gone with

the wind

That howls through the shattered

windows

Of my heart.

Takasha Turner

Grade 10

Hillsboro High School

Teacher: Mrs. Patti Spidel

He sees himself better than his father

because he is something

and his father is nothing.

He sees himself more worthy than his father

because he is something more

than nothing.

After all these years, he's finally made it--

and not because of his father, but

because he saw his father as nothing.

There was nothing else he dreamed of

but to be something

unlike his father.

And now he appreciates the man, who taught him

to be something

unlike him.

Librette Tye

Grade 10

Roger Bacon High School (Cincinnati)

Teacher: Mr. Doug Sanker

Each day the harshness of life is more evident

Some say the end is near, others are hesitant

Each day we follow are own sun-filled skies

As each mystery unfolds before our very eyes

But the question is are we . . .

Seeking a way to reach our ultimate dream or hope

Finding the gateway that unleashes the strength to cope

Or are we clinging to an obvious faulty security

Allowing ourselves to be unreasonably focused on futurity

Whether now or then, sooner or later, today or tomorrow

Just remember life is ours only to borrow

Do with this intimate gift what you may

But savor the moments it brings to you day by day

Faith Wagoner

Grade 12

Hilliard Darby High School

Teacher: Mrs. Marcia Linley

Sitting on the cold stone steps

I let the cool autumn air blow

Dead leaves over my feet

The letter I had just read was lying

Across my blue jeans

While a solitary tear rolled onto

My white t-shirt

I pulled my sweater tighter

Around my body and let a silent prayer

Drift up to heaven.

I let my mind wander back to

My childhood days

Life seemed so serene and

I was innocent then

Life now seems so complicated

And chaotic like the jumbled leaves

Against the cold stone steps

My heart and mind were raging

Against each other as I tried

To piece everything together.

I remember when a chocolate chip

Cookie could solve all the quandaries

Of a little girl's heart

But now a dozen wouldn't even

Begin to work

Things like death were too much for

Me to fathom as another tear

Rolled down my cheek

Landing on the cold stone steps.

Jason Waller

Grade 12

Field High School (Suffield)

Teacher: Mrs. C. Jamerson

Bright beams of light stream in

through my window,

relaxing upon my work pages

and smiling up to me,

with a joyous glow.

Grass from outside rides

on these streams of light,

licking, kissing, and reminding me

of the world I write for,

what I do and why.

Day turns to night

with a genteel whisper,

breezing in my window and dancing

with my velvet curtains,

playfully with love.

This moving air encloses me quickly,

embracing me from all sides

and diving deep into my soul,

halting hidden pain.

(Pause.)

Genteel whispers brightly sing

of morning,

now in red with smile

and dance awakening my curtains;

play of joy and glow.

Enclosing me I ride streams

of morning,

lifted and kissing,

I remind all sides

of my diving soul,

why I pain and smile.

Mary K. Watters

Grade 10

Marysville High School

Teacher: Ms. Catherine Klepach

Fashion, protection

Simple-stitching, with laces

To walk us through life.

Heather Weeks

Grade 12

Pickerington High School

Teacher: Mrs. Low

Rays of scarlet and of amber

streak across a sky of blue,

gradually replacing the sapphire

with their own dazzling hue.

An orb of bright and brilliant crimson

sinks lower in the sky

as the heat of day fades away,

and the light begins to die.

Soon, the moon above is shining bright

as it paints the water

with a silvery light.

Leaves dance in the silver gleam,

every edge touched

by the moonlit beam.

Clouds drift across a diamond sky

as the man in the moon winks his eye.

A gentle breeze makes the only sound

as blades of grass sway all around.

This seems like a night

when fairies should dance

and unicorns, in glee, should prance.

Peace will fill all this night

as they look on a world

painted with silvery light.

The sleeping sun awakens

in too short a time

and slowly begins its daily climb.

The magic of this enchanted eve

is gone as soon as it seems,

but it can be recalled each night

in peaceful, happy dreams.

Heather Weeks

Grade 12

Pickerington High School

Teacher: Mrs. Low

Laughter is an ocean in the hearts of the young,

An ocean whose waves never cease to go on.

It is never in droplets, nor in small amounts.

It's always in a wave that constantly mounts.

When children are in their beds, sleeping quite soundly,

the ocean inside them quivers, shakes, and swishes around.

Sometimes the waves break loose of the shores

and break upon those standing aloof and bored.

When the ocean comes forth, unasked for, uncalled,

That, dear child, is when laughter is most awed.

The young can be eight, twenty, or a hundred and fifty.

The young are those who, with their laughter, have never been thrifty.

Laughter is a stream, withered and dried, in the hearts of the old,

a stream where laughter has died in the cold.

The stream has gone dry, shrunk away from the banks.

That, dear child, is where the heart aches.

Some say they've laughed all their laughter away,

But that's quite a lie. Laughter withers only if it's hidden away.

The old's laughter was trapped in hearts of stone,

Till it sank deep in the many cavities of bone.

There it is trapped, unwanted and covered in mold,

Till some warmth comes to melt away all the cold.

The old can be a hundred, fifty, or eight,

any who stay in an uncaring state.

Erin Wheeler

Grade 11

Notre Dame Academy (Toledo)

Teacher: Mrs. Laura Gallaher

Fear Love as you fear Hate.

Once burning so brightly, then extinguished without a trace.

Heedlessly bleeding until the

last

staggering

drop

Drowns the victim.

Quenching the dying thirst, stealing the living breath.

Cradling the harmony of thoughts

celestially bound in lovers' red.

Bringing torrential downpours of

fiery desire and unearthly envy.

Kindly-answered prayer, long-awaited ecstasy, angel of the heart,

Ivory-pure mockery, distant fate, be as it may--

To the scavenger of vigor and vengeance.

Discovered are the two iridescent eyes, the windows to the soul,

sparkling with unique generosity and compassion.

Revealed only in this pair is every find memory of innocent laughter and smiles,

the kind that can make you not only forgive but also forget.

These same eyes which can later cast bouts of shame upon their recipient,

clouds of doubt and frustration.

From bliss to agony in a matter of words and doors . . .

Opening to dimensions of renewed maturity and self-respect

Opening to dimensions of deterioration and glut

Take me, sweetest Love, Take me, bitt'rest Hate.

And sketch the attenuating line--in pencil, just in case . . .