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Out-of-Region Honorable Mentions Honorable
Mention Brian Baker Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low I Think It's
Safe to Say Honorable
Mention Brian Baker Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low (We Are All Guilty) Honorable
Mention Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Honorable
Mention Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Honorable
Mention Andrea Beatty Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Darcie Bethel Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Kolet Buenavides Grade 10 Sycamore
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sullivan Honorable
Mention Eugene Choi Grade: 12 Saint
Ignatius High School Teacher: Mr.
Thomas Honorable
Mention Christa Coffaro Grade 12 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Honorable
Mention Derek Coulter Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Jessica Coyle Grade 11 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Honorable
Mention Ashley Crowder Grade 10 [Cincinnati] Teacher:
Mrs. Johnson Honorable
Mention Ashley Crowder Grade 10 [Cincinnati] Teacher:
Mrs. Johnson Honorable
Mention Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Honorable
Mention Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Honorable
Mention Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Honorable
Mention Megan Curley Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jodie Condren Honorable
Mention Elizabeth A. DePugh Grade 11 Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Timothy Lee Dessauer Grade 11 Felicity-Franklin
High School Teacher: Ms.
Beziat Honorable
Mention Teri Elmore Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Ewry Honorable
Mention Erica Foxhuber Grade 11 Maumee High
School Teacher:
Mrs. Leach Honorable
Mention Lewis Garrison Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jodie Condren Honorable
Mention Katy Gheen Grade 11 Northwestern
High School Teacher: Ms.
Kachurek Honorable
Mention Trisha Gragg Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Lyndi Hardman Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Honorable
Mention Robin Hooley Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher: Mr.
Reeves Honorable
Mention Sara Jane Johnson Grade: 12 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Mindi Leatherman Honorable Mention Rachel Jones Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jackie Condren Honorable
Mention Stefanie Jones Grade 9 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Becky Ramsey Honorable
Mention Brandon Krzynowek Grade 11 Cleveland
Central Catholic High School Teacher: Ms.
Sinclair Honorable
Mention Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Molly Marinik Grade 12 Southview
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Honorable
Mention Halie Marino Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Erika Mathias Grade 12 Pickeington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Maggie Montanaro Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Carrie Pratt Grade 10 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nicole Schrock Honorable Mention Nidhi Sinha Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Honorable
Mention Jonathan Smith Grade 12 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Rebecca L. Ramsey Honorable
Mention Dorothy Strickland Grade 12 Mt. Notre
Dame High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sandra Purdy Honorable
Mention Chaneia Yvonne Taylor Grade 12 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Rebecca L. Ramsey Honorable
Mention Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention Andrew VanMeter Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Honorable
Mention John Wing Grade 12 Springfield
North High School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Honorable
Mention John Wing Grade 12 Springfield
North High School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Honorable
Mention Ann Young Grade 12 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Honorable
Mention Brett Zehner Grade 11 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low (Destination Unknown) Brian Baker Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low I Think It's Safe to Say That I Have Had My Share
of Bad Experiences I can feel
it all so clearly. She wraps her smooth soft fingers around mine in a warm
embrace as we hold hands. All is peaceful as we sit together against a tall oak
tree. She rests her head on my shoulder. Perhaps we are in a park, at the top of
a hill, above; it doesn't matter, because we are together. Her soft hair may
blow in my face--it smells of a fragrance so sweet. I can hear her heart beating
and I can feel her chest rising as she breathes softly. We watch the sun set for
hours. Maybe we talk, maybe not--but the scenery says it all. The sky goes from
blue to all shades of red to black. The hours seem like mere seconds. I love
her. And there is only one thing I would love more in this world than that exact
feeling... and that is not to have to go through any of it at all. Brian Baker Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low The
Weakness of the World (We Are All Guilty) beauty--a
trap--an illusion yet i can't
withstand its attraction Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Untitled Haiku Broken brown
bottles Cut mother
birds that hurt for food and
shelter. Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner The Unwanted It becomes
you What they
are Eating at
the flesh Tearing at
the scars A gray rose Torn from
the ground To give to
you Empty
bottles Breaking in
my head More
important Mass over
individual What you
learn What they
are Where you
turn Is who
you'll be The silk you
wear That burns
the hide What they
did Is what
hurts me Andrea Beatty Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Where I'm From I am from
Pez dispensers, From playing
Sorry and family bike rides. I am from
the suburbs and weekly lawn mowing. I am from
apple trees-- The tartness
of Granny Smiths To the
sweetness of Red Delicious. I am from goulash and chili and swimming pools. From Hazel's
warm touch and Dorothy's shaky movements when we talk. I'm from the
"Do you know what time it is?" And the
"Don't make me count," From the
"Why didn't you call?" I'm from
waffles on Sunday morning, Sleeping in, And watching
football. I'm from a
small town called Chillicothe-- Hot wings
and cheesy potatoes. From the
long days my father has at work To my father
never even having a father in his life. I'm from
long drives to Cincinnati, Visiting
family every weekend. Memories
full of my brothers baseball games Sitting in the hot sun, skipping on the
playground. I am from
the dream dolls and fairies. I'm from the
old chests full of dusty pictures, And hearing
the memories they brought back. Darcie Bethel Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Make Your Foul Shots Make your
foul shots when you're down
by one and you can win
the game. Make your
foul shots When you
don't think you can run anymore, when you
want practice to be over. Make your
foul shots when you're all
alone and you want
to prove to yourself
that you can. Make your
foul shots when you don't
think it matters because
you're down by twenty anyway: it does. Make your
foul shots for your
team for your
coaches for your
parents-- Most of all,
make your foul shots for you. Kolet Buenavides Grade 10 Sycamore
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sullivan Where You Are in my
dreams, we both are
one. in my
prayers, you are
always there. in my sleep, you are my
angel. in the dark, you are the
light. when I am
lost, you are the
way. in my story, you are the
hero. in my heart, you are the
one. in reality, you are
gone. Eugene Choi Grade: 12 Saint
Ignatius High School Teacher: Mr.
Thomas to my girlfriend down on the
shore a million
shells wait for you each being
coaxed back into the sea and so you
run and gather trying to
find the prettiest ones the ones
that simply make you smile so you carry
them in your hands for a moment but there
are always the ones that caught your
eye too late and they are
swept away. Christa Coffaro Grade 12 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Bowl of Deceit She absorbs Bits of an
old rerun, And wonders,
through tears, Why the
silence shatters Every
Cinderella fantasy she's ever had. Doubt shreds
the darkness, As she
listens to the muffled tones Of
instruments Humming
tunes of the night. 8:35,
"Just 5 minutes late" 8:42,
"Where is he?" 8:58,
"Nearly 9" 9:17,
"Bastard." The muted
bodies On her
10" screen Tell her to
rise And indulge
the cherry cordial packed freezer. Washed eyes,
fixed on the gooey tub, Lost in the
drabness of her future, Her past
becomes the focus, When baking
with Mom was Thursday night tradition, And her
dreams were still attainable. Lost in her
own kitchen, She flips on
the switch of morning, And gazes
into her reflection, In the
distorted bathroom mirror. . . Deceitful
words cling to her unwilling tongue, And she
sputters aloud, For all the
world to hear, "I am .
. . strong," As she grabs
hold of the Angel statue, Smiling from
a shelf above, And launches
it into her reflection. The silent
house freezes, As the ice
cream melts, Still
waiting on the kitchen table, Until it's
time to be used as her crutch, Once more.. No remedy to
her pain. Derek Coulter Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Going Back Sifting
through some old clothes
of mine, I came
across a tiny
karate robe The once
white fabric, now stained
ivory with age, made me
think of simpler
times -almost
forgotten when I would
don that robe and practice some
weekdays after school with my best
friend, Blake, way before
he found beer and
cigarettes and the
"in-crowd" that took my
place How I wish
that robe didn't have
that damn ivory
tint And I could
go back to those
simpler times when I was
naive but innocent Before I
knew what a dysfunctional
family was and before I
knew love's
cruel, twisted side they don't
tell you of in Disney
cartoons and when I
was still full of
youthful energy, before I got
overweight and out of
shape and both my
damn knees still worked
right How I want
to go back to some
autumn eve when it
wasn't wrong to want to
be a super hero and when
life was easy Jessica Coyle Grade 11 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Almost a Sparrow Patrick is a
darling child, precocious and a bit arrogant for his stature. A picture
called Boy with spiky hair and a missing tooth nibbling
blackened nails and poking at dinner Leaning back
in his chair with an air of "don't mind me!" nonchalance
surprising for a 9 year-old. Maybe he'll
eat some pasta. (I hope so!
says mother, His legs look like toothbrushes!) chewing on
some half-formed thought in a musing sort of kid way. "By the
time I'm old enough to drive, cars will be flying. And they'll
be free. True enough
for me. Ashley Crowder Grade 10 [Cincinnati] Teacher:
Mrs. Johnson My Inner Mystery I may be
walking down the street and someone sees
me. They try to figure out my character and judge me. They may
think I'm snobby, ghetto, insane, or ugly. They
may even think I'm cool, unique, or pretty. But they
never try to figure out who I am, or what I'm
about. They just see me being short, then me, they doubt. My
personality is far from being short, but is full of surprises.
I'm not considered shy, but sometimes my feelings I'm hiding. I'll give
you the title "my friend" if you trust and let me
in. Into your mind to view your thoughts, cares, and advice, then my thoughts
and views to you, I'll send. But whatever
you do, don't compare me to you. Don't
get to know me just to know my flaws. Don't ask to
know my dreams, just to take them away.
Don't act interested and amused just to go another way. Take time to
learn, understand, and focus on me, don't
just say a couple things, and think you know me It takes a
will, time, and trust to understand me. It takes
guts to understand my inner mystery. Ashley Crowder Grade 10 [Cincinnati] Teacher:
Mrs. Johnson Lost Ones just when
you think you know someone and you think you know them well. They turn
their back just that fast and it doesn't seem true or real. You want to
do something about it, but don't want to seem like the weak one. Instead you
pass or walk by them and think your being the "brick" one. But every
now and again you reminisce on the times you laughed and cried, And just
chilled and when they were down, you'd lift them up, or at least you tried. But now it's
all a memory and you still can't understand where it came to an end. You try to
understand how it's possible to be so close to someone then lose them as a
friend. Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Alps Earthly
reins have no place here sky
clamoring upon the rim collapsing
into the bathed ewe bleating
milk-round teats and glimmering
eye echoes the soul of the blue
man sheik and appealing so
tempting pointed
mountain hovers above the two,
come to a lather joined to
stand either foot drawing in
both Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Apres la pluie Rain brings
her clarity, her sophistication,
her style in simple
abundance. Tempting and
seductive she falls when needed but
denies downpour when desired
most. it is her stillness I
most adore, damp joyful tears
of purity essence healing
charity in my hair on my lips,
closing my eyes to it. Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Cultivation At one time
I forced life to happen,
forced art to create, forced
action to occur--and all came out
distorted, final products
convoluted and messy and cliched. Then I stood
back and let pieces fall and earth
was just as confused and chaotic, so
I took it in my hands and warmed
it, coaxed it to breathe and it
glowed for me, tail questioned over its
head, chattering its spirit. Megan Curley Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jodie Condren Dear Yesterday Dear
Yesterday, I apologize
for everything I forgot to do: To savor the
morning sunrise, To be
grateful for every breath I take, To enjoy the
crisp afternoon breeze, To be
thankful for good friends and new To giggle at
goofy jokes And to enjoy
the breathtaking sunset Yesterday,
please forgive me, for it will be done tomorrow Gratefully
yours, Megan Elizabeth A. DePugh Grade 11 Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Breaking Free Caution: I'm on fire. Extremely
flammable. Hazardous
road ahead. High speed
S-curves, running all stops. All I see is
green. My freedom
is on the road, there are no limits. Speed is my passion. I forgot the
construction ahead, men at work
are just an orange blur. Red and blue
lights flash, my pulse
pounds. Caution: I'm on the
run. Low fuel. Rest stop
one mile, one second. I'm too
late. Just another
blur. Timothy Lee Dessauer Grade 11 Felicity-Franklin
High School Teacher: Ms.
Beziat Entrapped As I look
out the window, and the wind blows with shear elegance and tranquillity. It reminds
of what fife is like, outside of this facility. Where the
wind blows and the water flows. I may never
know, just how far I could go. To the ends
o f the earth. Or to the place of my birth. It doesn't
matter where. Just anywhere but here. Where the
walls surround you, and the demons hound you. Keeping you
near, engulfed in fear. There is no
way out, not from here. Because
24-7, the demons lurk and they leer. Which keeps
me praying, to get away from here. And to be
one with Mother Nature, whom I love so dear. Teri Elmore Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Ewry Reheat the Ashes Reheat the
ashes, White
passion overtakes me. Stir the
embers-- The voice of
the unconscious Is
resurrected. Joy
reinspired In the abyss
of my heart, Autumn
leaves, Dancing
in the wind. The glorious
sunrise reigns Over the
thick darkness preceding it. Rekindle the
flickering flame As muse
carves The path. Erica Foxhuber Grade 11 Maumee High
School Teacher:
Mrs. Leach Untitled Apple Bites have Chunks of Dainty seeds
in Every Fresh bite
that have such a Great taste
you just Have to Ignore Jealous Kids who Love apples
because they May Not Offer to Play with
you until you give them some, so just have a small Quarrel to
prove to them that the Right thing
to do is eat apples to keep the doctor away. So when you
are finally done eating, Then U may play
because apples are Very Wonderful
and X-traordinary
so You must eat
them Zestfully. Lewis Garrison Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jodie Condren Recipe for a Bad
Recipe Poem First you
need one bad idea for a recipe poem such as mud or Telet Tubys. Then you
need to be bad with words. So bad you couldn't describe a toilet. Mavbe a bad
Recipe poem wouldn't even follow the format of a recipe poem. Maybe it
would instead follow the format of an
Acrostic Peanut butter On Elifants May Finally you
know you have a bad one if you turn it in to your English teacher and she
returns t with an F. Katy Gheen Grade 11 Northwestern
High School Teacher: Ms.
Kachurek The Pick The finger
becomes daring, making sure
no one's starring. He searches
all around, making not a
sound. The closer
it gets to his nose, the less
often he stops to pose. Then,
finally he thinks quick, the finger
enters to pick. The nostril
it is in, moving up
and down with a spin. Great big
buggers hang on, he throws
them to the lawn. Then, with
joy and surprise, he blinks
his eyes. His mouth
full of mucus, he's such a
doofus. Trisha Gragg Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel The Good Days Remember when playing
with G.I. Joe's and Barbie's was ok? When
Redrover was ruler of recess? Those were the good
days . . . When you
could act crazy and not get put
down. When holding
hands was a
secret, but thought
of as cool; Playing
spin-the-bottle and
truth-or-dare were the
ONLY games to play at
those 4th grade
parties. In class. we
played Sparkle and Jeopardy just to win a 2 point
bonus. At home, not
coming in until 9
p.m. from playing
with all your little
neighbor friends was living
on the dangerous side. Trying to
get your parents
to let you go over
to your best
buds and having
to run back and
forth between parents
until finally one of them
says YEEESSSS!! All these
memories dance
through our heads and as we
compare ourselves to
this past time, we wish we could go
back to the past, just to have
the extra point or that
little smooch! Just to be a
kid Again with no
responsibilities and nothing to worry
about. Those were
the good days and we will remember
them . . . forever! Lyndi Hardman Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel First Impressions I had spoken
five words to him, already I
was planning our wedding. Standing
there in designer clothes, expensive
shoes, Tommy,
Nautica. he seemed
out of place, next to the
guy with the
shaved head and chipped front tooth. Then
something changed. I don't
remember the exact moment, day, or even
month. Maybe it was
when we talked about how much we
hate it when people stare or because
he didn't judge me for my differences; my haircut, my friends, my father's
occupation. He didn't
listen to the rumors about drug
abuse or sexual preference. All the time
spent talking, about
trivial things that only
seemed to matter to us. Fights that
never happened, people we
didn't like. Long car
rides, listening to
the same CD, "Silk
the shocker" Throw Your Hood Up. We redefined
fun every day, playing
basketball in the snow, watching the
same movie over and over. He would
have made a great boyfriend calling on
time, opening the
door. But he made
an even better friend. And for that
I thank him. Robin Hooley Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher: Mr.
Reeves For Grandpa A light dew
sprinkles upon the morning bud, Opening life
to the spring tulip. The sun
shines hard and opens the blossom. The pollen
begins to rise and float through the air. Life buzzes
off the beauty, Bathing in
the sunlight colors intensify. But as the
sun dies, the beauty closes up. The once
magnificent beauty is now, Just a bud. Sara Jane Johnson Grade: 12 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Mindi Leatherman Peace Peace is the
color of puffy white clouds floating silently in a brilliant blue sky. It's the
sound of birds chirping on a sunny spring afternoon. The taste of
a tall glass of cold, refreshing lemonade. Peace smells
like the lavender tucked under your pillow. It's the
sight of an eagle soaring over the Rockies as the sun sets. It feels
like the water drifting over your feet as you wade in the Atlantic Ocean. Rachel Jones Grade 10 Thomas
Worthington High School Teacher:
Mrs. Jackie Condren Imagination Imagine
a place where Magic
is everywhere, And
the grass is so Green
that If you
stare at it too long, your eyes grow NUMB, And The
sensation of flying overwhelms you, making It
hard not to feel free, to feel Open,
to the Never-ending
dream that captures your heart. Stefanie Jones Grade 9 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Becky Ramsey Fear When I saw
you I was afraid
to know you, When I knew
you I was afraid
to like you, When I liked
you I was afraid
to love you, When I loved
you I was afraid
to lose you, When I lost
you I was afraid
to love again, When I did
love again Fear was
fear no more. Brandon Krzynowek Grade 11 Cleveland
Central Catholic High School Teacher: Ms.
Sinclair Happiness We convince
ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby. Then we're
frustrated that the kids aren't old enough and we'll be more content when they
are. After that,
we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We'll certainly be happy
when they're out of that stage. We tell
ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act
together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we
retire. The truth
is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when? So, stop
waiting until you
finish school, until you go
back to school, until you
lose ten pounds, until you
gain ten pounds, until you
have kids, until you
start work, until you
retire, until you
get married, until you
get divorced, until Friday
night, until Sunday
morning, until you
get a new car or home, until your
car or home is paid off, until
spring, until
summer, until fall, until
winter, until you're
off welfare, until the
first or fifteenth, until your
song comes on, until you've
had a drink, until you've
sobered up, until you
die, until you're
born again to decide
that there is no better time than right now to be happy. Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Lightness Comes from
light bulbs, comes from
night lights, and the
cracks under doors. Begins with
the sun shining on a
glowing sunflower which shares
with the rest of the garden. Flowers let
the light out in the morning and trap it
in at night, but the
fireflies don't give up; they are
still trying to brighten
the world. Light comes
from laughter, floods out
when people smile, and most of
all when they are content. It glows
from white paper hidden in a
dark room, and sneaks
from the other side of the earth through a
hole to China, creeping up
to startle the night. Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Run Away I was
supposed to be watching my little brother, but I
forgot. When I
wasn't looking he sneaked away, to the ever
dangerous stairs. He was
scared when he fell, and cried. But he
wasn't really hurt. While my
parents iced his bump, I packed my
blue backpack. I was going
to run away from home. Everybody
blamed me, or so I thought, and I knew
they all hated me for hurting
my small brother. The shoes
that I wore were brown. My parents
were curious, why was I
wearing shoes? And I told
them, that it
should be obvious. I was
running away from home. They asked
me if I would please stay, they would
miss me. Even my
abused baby brother gave me a
hug. I decided to
stay, but only
because I wouldn't get breakfast, oatmeal, if I ran
away from home. Molly Marinik Grade 12 Southview
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter The Pirate Blues I wake up
every mornin' with a slash across my face, It seems as
though my hook is always gettin' in my way. My peg-leg
always bothers me, it itches quite a. lot, Apparently I've got a case of nasty
peg-leg rot. Argh, I've
got the pirate blues. I said argh
matey, I've got those pirate blues. There's been
a drought in ships and the booty's gettin' small, With no
treasures left to bury, time ticks slowly at a crawl. Curly was my
best friend as we sailed the open sea, Until last
week he walked the plank for attempted mutiny. Argh, I've
got the pirate blues. Argh, Mama,
I've got those lonely pirate blues. The cap'n is
upset, the crew is always doin' wrong, No one even
sings my favorite "Yo, Ho, Yo, Ho" song. Yesterday
the worst occured, all day I moped and cried, The biggest
blow of all was when my parrot, Squawky died! I said I've
got those pirate blues. Argh, those
lean, mean, pirate blues. My eye-patch
is too tight, I don't
sleep much at night Although I
try with all my might, Yea, I've
got the pirate blues! Aaaarrrggghhh. Halie Marino Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Extinguished Hating my
skins, Like heavy
blankets Smothering
the fire that is my soul Extinguished. Put out
before i even have chance to burn, To Blaze Erika Mathias Grade 12 Pickeington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Mustang If she were
a car, she would defiantly be a Ford Mustang. You see her
type frequently, Although
compared to the others, she is quite different. She can
change her look so often. One day she
is running well, is clean and looks like a million dollars, She turns
the heads of everyone she passes. Then, with
the blink of an eye the usual spark is gone. You wonder
what could have caused this transition. Everywhere
she goes she draws the attention of others. They look in
awe at how perfect she is and yearn to be with her. She gets the
attention of all. She is one
who can either blend in or stand out in the flow of traffic. Only a
certain type of person can slow her down or detain her, But she has
to be willing. Her look is
one of pure confidence, no one able to compare. Over the big
bumps in the road she slows down, taking them with caution. Not letting
anything stand in her way is what she is all about. When looking
at her, you see that she is dependable, Never to
break down when you need her. She is
smooth like the feather interior. Few can
touch or smudge her. Maggie Montanaro Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Before Arriving Home There is one
moment after
opening and closing the door of my car, walking
toward the house to open it into warm air and family light where I
devote my mind to the night. Unaware of
my loud footfalls as I look and feel at the sky, the
scattered suns dimly brightening my day to a closure. Head pulled
upward by appreciation's undeniable force, I stare. The hard
pavement, the soft grass, the cracked
sidewalk disappear as the
night's power hangs like tinsel from black brightness. It's
glittering to me, this surreal
eternity. And as my
moment ends, so does my
raw spirit return to its oven
inside, where
experience bakes and responsibility burns its golden edges. I
automatically and unwillingly open the door. And as I
step into reality I yearn already, for that
lost instant of extraction. Carrie Pratt Grade 10 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nicole Schrock An Individual In Society
The man who
tips his brown
felt hat, as I stroll along my path. The woman
who smiles with bright
red lipstick, that shimmers in the sun. The little
boy who plays ball, across
the street in lush green grass. The little
girl who wears an elegant
dress while sipping her tea. An
individual in society The man who
waves his wide
spread hand to greet me. The woman
who rushes down the
street, in hopes to catch the bus. The little
boy who carries the hurt
young child, calling for its mother. The little
girl who bakes cookies to
please her mother. An
individual in society The man who
catches stray
runaway cats from the tree. The woman
who scolds her
children, for not heeding to her counsel. The little
boy who teases the girl
with ponytails in her hair. The little
girl who prays at her bed
at night, with hopes that she is heard. An
individual in society The man who
watches the children
at the cross road after school. The woman
who teaches children at
school knowledge, and that it is power. The little boy who listens to the
storybooks being read aloud. The little
girl who sings songs at the
top of her lungs. An
individual in society The man who
sits at the
corner of the street begging for food and money. The woman
who works with
patients so tenderly in the ICU at the hospital. The little boy who delivers the daily
newspaper with caution, to not forget the grumpy old man. The little
girl who snuggles her only
doll, her only friend, so closely to her heart. An
individual in society Nidhi Sinha Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter The Bride The day has
arrived, My happiness
knows no bounds, Am I
nervous? Anxious? Only my
heart knows, Beating so. Like a knock
on the Door of a
new chapter In my life .
. . I put on my lehenga. So pretty,
so red. Like a rose
in a flower show. Bred to
perfection. Made to
perfection. My jewelry
is all gold. I touch to
feel the Richness of
it. Like
powerful rays Of the sun, It all sinks
in. It's all for
me. The clothes
are mine. The jewelry
is mine. The guests
are mine. The man is
mine. The day is
mine. But am I? Jonathan Smith Grade 12 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Rebecca L. Ramsey Rhythm: A Villanelle Rain drops
fall on my corrugated tin Roof, and in
my lonely window sill, Sparrows
dance to the rhythm within. Thunder
booms on the timbales of the heavens, And
lightning sticks illuminate the still Water
mirrors on my corrugated tin. The squirrel
twirls, then suddenly spins, And as his
head with music fills, his tail Keeps time
with the rhythm within. The song of
nature now fills the wind, As the dogs
sing, yip, and yell, Their song
echoes on my corrugated tin. From my
slumber, I now slowly ascend, As I creep
to my window sill, until, I become
tempted by the rhythm within. The door
burst open, and with the wind I praise
your name, Lord, my soul to fill; I dance upon
my corrugated tin: For You have
given me the rhythm within. Dorothy Strickland Grade 12 Mt. Notre
Dame High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sandra Purdy The Studio I hear the
sounds so clearly the clip
clap of the taps the boom of
feet landing in a cold
studio at night The pitter
patter of rain the coughing
from exhaustion the teacher
screaming hoarsely while
clapping to the beat The satin
tearing against the floor the whoosh
coming from turns and jumps the rumble
of the hard wood floor the speakers
blaring loudly The heavy
panting the noses
running the bones
popping these sounds
haunt my mind in a cold
studio at night Chaneia Yvonne Taylor Grade 12 Liberty
Christian Academy Teacher: Ms.
Rebecca L. Ramsey Sleep I close my
eyes. I toss and
turn until the darkness surrounds me. Dogs bark,
night owls hoot-- A train
rumbles by. My door
creaks with the dropping temperature. The sheets
are cool against my bare feet. Breath and
heart rate slow; My back
rises and falls with each intake of air. Dreams full
of colors, sounds, and tastes fill my mind. Darkness
surrounds me again Warming,
comforting, inviting. Suddenly-- The alarm
blares; A wake-up
call. I open my
eyes. Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Ghost Lover Strolling
through the garden with no success, Finding only
the expected. Unjaded sapling, Tall and
tenacious, what knowledge will you bring Me? I have
been holding and holding you to no avail, You will not
let me touch. I cannot materialize To make
myself real enough for you to grow around. Do you need
me, do you want a spirit to inhabit You, make
you one of them. We will be a marriage Of body and
soul, the ultimate natural phenomenon. We will be
the newest level in evolution, if you wish; Let me enter
you and give meaning to your existence, Let me find
a home. Why do you still shun me like all The rest of
the garden, the lilies who scorn my lack Of
physicality, the orchids with their blind prejudices. Don't you
know that we are, in actuality, one life Separated by
the gates of visibility? Until the day Comes when
we shall once again be reunited, I will Haunt the
shape of your feeble limbs, and you shall Serve as
comfort to my unanchored ship as I wait For the old
port to usher me back home to rest. Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Reviving Angels I talk to
bashful angels at night to ease The winter's
ashen silence. They respond With
creakings of floorboards and rustlings Of leaves,
none of which ever makes sense To me. When
I ask them to speak in English,
they just moan along with the Wind. Most
times I just give up. What do they
know? Having existed Here on
earth for seventeen years, I Should be
the one with all the answers. I should be
teacher. Just listen to them, Dumb as
goldfish, too petrified to shift Out here
into the visible where they Belong. It
is my job to tell them That they
really have blood running in their Veins
instead of just Michelangelo's paint, And that
their hearts really do beat in Rhythms, and
are not meekly inert like Gothic
gargoyles, It is my responsibility, yes, Oh but if
only they will be willing to hear me Out! I do not
blame them, though. After
centuries of being branded as non-existent, What else can they do, except to
believe? Andrew VanMeter Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low The Worker He stood up
with a sigh And followed
the directions That were
given to him Down to the
letter. He then
started cleaning up His mess,
among others. For that, he
was scolded by The Union
because It was
someone else's job To clean up
the work area. He went and
sat down on the bench Where he was
criticized by his work mates Because he
did his job too well, And it made
everyone else look bad. Five o'clock
rolled around, So he went
home to an empty apartment With a note
left on the counter. He knew what
it would say, So he didn't
bother reading it. He left his
place, and disappeared From the
rest of the world, The world
wasn't ready for him, So he found
his way out. John Wing Grade 12 Springfield
North High School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner Personal Pilgrim No more
bites from a beastly alarm No more
sittin' in a white picket prison No more! I
quit this domestic harm this
suburban farm, this assembly vision Going to
sing a song of going as I'm leaving. Going to
find a front to a frontier. Going to
fling a sun into the evening Going to
live a decade in a year. A change, I
went, found a new climate. out of
sight, out of my mind I could not find, a change in
the future I lament. Back home, I
sent, for a photo to help remind. A Personal
Pilgrim's quest to see, if I can
find the West in me. John Wing Grade 12 Springfield
North High School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner The Valentine of Bella Lagosi Bella bit
the mark and flew higher Caped and
cowed in celluloid feature Bella
Lagosi's Valentine was a vampire Bella moaned
but could not find a buyer Under the
sheets slept a slumbering creature Bella bit
the mark and flew higher Bella stood
wet in a town never dryer A spectre
spoke-an unseen speaker Bella
Lagosi's Valentine was a vampire Bella's mind
morphed into a chaotic choir A monster
maestro motioned to the weaker Bella bit
the mark and flew higher Bella's face
was worn the color of a tire Kind of like
a King but somehow meeker Bella
Lagosi's Valentine was a vampire Bella
climbed upon a padded pillowed pier Awaiting a
seeker to make a seizure Bella bit
the mark and flew higher Bella
Lagosi's Valentine was a vampire Ann Young Grade 12 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Untitled Just keep
your mind open and suck in the experience . . . Everything
happens for a reason. I am not
indifferent to what happens to Me . . . Neither is
my simulacrum. It knows
what buttons to push. Religious
people lack faith. Now, pull
out the feathers and heal your bad parts and remember . . . Just because
you don't understand it doesn't mean it's bad. Consider, Can we
overcome our preconceptions? Consider, Why Do Yon
Believe? Explanation?
Formal religion got its hands on it. We know only
what is of this world, Only what we
are taught. Destination?
We would rather die . . . Aren't you
tired of a narrow little mind, of being
unable to look past your own comfort-bubble. Solution?
Contact, Culture, Erudition, Enlightenment,
Art . . . There is a
truth about art, a truth in
the common emotion of everyone. It is the
only reality, the only true ubiquity. So, why tie
I love trouble recognizing falseness! Brett Zehner Grade 11 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Stowaway (Destination Unknown) found solace
in long since yesterday, where ive
seen the wind, on a rail
outside chicago, i lost my
faith, deeper in
debt, and farther
in loss, with all the
karma ghosts haunting me, and under
the crows, and under the rain, hidden
within silver iron freight train, i escape my
midwest poisoned root, with eyes
set on westward salvation, and the
setting sun . . . and now with
the bright lights of last chance, at my back, the empty
plains, staring me
down . . .. ive lost my
place ive lost my
face, ive lost my
time, in my prime
. . . pen in hand,
eyes on fire, you in
heart, and destination unknown
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