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Out-of-Region Runners-Up Runner-Up Wes Airgood Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs.Nanette Fetter Runner-Up Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner (11 Ways To Go Insane) Runner-Up Kendell Coletti Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Runner-Up Jessica Coyle Grade 11 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle Runner-Up Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Runner-Up Elizabeth A. DePugh Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Tomorrow I Will Rule the World
Runner-Up Katie Dierkes Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher: Ms.
Sue Loechle Runner-Up Teri Elmore Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Ewry Runner-Up Stephanie Gruen Grade: 12 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Mindi Leatherman Runner-Up Chelsea Hall Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Senior Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Runner-Up Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Runner-Up Julie McClain Troy High
School Love as Coachmen: Parts I &
II Runner-Up Malaika I. Robinson Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle
Runner-Up Nidhi Sinha Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Runner-Up Dorothy Strickland Grade 12 Mt. Notre
Dame High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sandra Purdy Runner-Up Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Runner-Up Lindsey Weating Grade: 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Wes Airgood Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs.Nanette Fetter The Hellcat Man, one day
this old fella come slinkin' up to our porch rail Like a fat,
black, alley cat with a knot tied in his tail. No other
thought in the world `cept how he was ownin' all, Every square
inch that he saw through his shinin' yellow eyeball. I's only
`bout yea big when he come and leaned against that porch, Eyes pushin'
into me, ice-cold like a torch. Them eyes,
how them eyes burned into my chest Like someone'd put red-hot coals in the
pockets of my vest. That of cat
just stood there, casual as Sunday afternoon. `Thout a
care in his head with a face you'd see on the moon. Lifted a
busted of finger, poked the air `tween him
an' me, Made it into
a gun and aimed it carefully. Just before
he pulled the trigger to blow the top off my head, He spoke in
a sandpaper voice an' here's what he said: Next time you's asleep, when you's thinks you's all
alone, When only God can see you, and maybe he's `ready
gone, Your recollect of me, son. I can see you then and
there. It don't matter when and it doesn't matter where.
So, you best be careful in what you say and do, `Cause if you don't, I'll tell
you now, There's hell a-waitin' for you. That old man
put down his gun and shuffled on down the lane, But the
sandpaper from his throat left its scratches on my brain. Terah R. Baldwin Grade 12 North High
School Teacher: Mr.
Wagner WHERE SECRETS LURK (11 Ways To Go Insane) I Feigning
laughter A fake smile On cold
lips. II Alone In a crowded
room of somebodies And you are No one. III Driving Among those
with destinations While you
have none. IV Expecting What can
never be yours V Allowing
yourself to think Before you
escape into sleep VI Living in
regret Lost in the
past Overlooking
the present, And
forsaking the future. VII Pretending
that you are something That you
will never be And not
accepting Who you are. VIII Throwing
away What could
have made you happy Just because You're used
to what makes you sad IX Accepting
one lie Over a
thousand truths That bleed
into your subconscious X Losing
someone close Over a
trivial nothing That wasn't
true anyway. XI Artificial
light Shining over
the sea Where
secrets lurk. Kendell Coletti Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle An Image of Myself Mud nestled
its way into her fingernails, Streaks
across her hands from a scarlet Crayola, Raw cookie
dough tangled between fingers, Sticky palms
covered in lucid bubbles, A pinky
gasping for air from Band-aid build up and A thumb
covered in darkness from a sloppy ink print: An image of
myself Filled with
memories of cold mornings, Tiny
dresses, bare legs, and holding hands with Joe under the monkey bars. Jessica Coyle Grade 11 Saint Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle A Weekend in the Life The bunny
zips away, a train 5 minutes late in a city that runs on TIME! My cuticles
have filed for workers' compensation and I consider a counter suit. They scratch
against the dried paint in the sky and all I can smell is firewood. but the
chips as they call do make a lovely sunset. Just
watching--it itches like that one time I had to eat strained spinach. Popeye never
seemed to mind, but Alcatraz will do that to you. Popeye hated
that spinach. The moon's
whispers are lost to me--I should take my ponytail out. But that
would just be "soooo uncool." There's a
harbor of sloth and disillusionment, a trap laid for the boats of childhood and the
lighthouse hasn't worked for decades. Fickle as
icebergs . . . I felt
squished under the penguins and used their feathers to keep me warm. Alice made
them all her little friends. In a week
they'll be boots and she'll be fighting domestic violence. She escaped
in a pair of high-laced purple figure skates, currently for sale on E-bay To benefit
those who've been permanently disfigured by throwing
used batteries in the fire. They had to
disregard the instructions to find their freedom. Mais moi, je crois que les enfants soient tousjours
captives unless the
leather upper can somehow reconcile with its rubber soul. A little
bunny tilts its head and doesn't try to understand. Christine Culler Grade 11 Seven Hills
School Teacher: Ms.
Elizabeth Trobough Lucy I turned
just before we left, though I
desperately believed she would pull
through, and saw my last views of
her, vibrant and adorable, her little
demanding bark as the door closed. Elizabeth A. DePugh Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel Tomorrow I Will Rule the World Tomorrow I
will rule the world, eat egg drop
soup with skim milk. Sing old
songs out of tune and "It's a
Small World" repeatedly. Tomorrow I
will watch Pokemon with Morky
and finish with a western
marathon. Smother egg rolls with
ketchup, eat olives and drink
cheap pop. Tomorrow I
will play invisible drums with my
pencil, use my
sister's deodorant and drive way too slow. Tomorrow I
will rule the world, but today
I'm gonna live. Katie Dierkes Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher: Ms.
Sue Loechle Picnic As brutal as
your stare We lie in
silence Listening to Tongues
paralyzed. Solitaire
suns Disjoined. One rising
in antipathy. The other in
regret. And a
child's rope slaps the asphalt. Teri Elmore Grade 10 Hillsboro
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Ewry Melting Ice Cream Life is like
an ice cream cone-- it melts
away quickly. There is no
time to enjoy the rich sensation; we are too
busy trying to stop the
dripping edges. Many flavors
are ours to choose, but most are
never even tasted. Some lives
leave your mouth refreshed and then
fade gradually
away, While others leave a
bitter aftertaste. Stephanie Gruen Grade: 12 Pettisville
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Mindi Leatherman Summer Is Nice, But . . . As I sit
here on the rusty power mower that jerks
as if it doesn't like me going about
two miles an hour and trying not
to run over Mom's roses, I listen to
the annoying buzz of the
locusts in the trees and wonder
how long it will be until the
trees are bare and it won't be so hot and
humid. Then a bug flies in my mouth and I can't wait until winter comes. Chelsea Hall Grade 11 Paint Valley
High School Senior Teacher:
Mrs. Patti Spidel This Poem Is for Isaac who taught
me about life, love, and
friendship. You spilled
coffee and left me with a thigh
covered in blisters, but I wasn't
as mad as I pretended. That summer
you tried to protect me-- until you
were attacked by a swarm of bees. And you
couldn't sing like Randy Travis if your life
depended on it, but I still
loved to listen. You spent
countless rainy mornings locked in a
second-story kitchen with me
listening to what I wanted to
say, and when the
smoke hurt my eyes, you threw
away your cigarettes. You treated
me to a bag of Swedish
fish and a Mountain Dew every
Saturday. You loved to
fight, but would
never ever hurt
me. Your dark
skin and your flawless smile were
beautiful. And I loved
the way you walked like an
elephant with heavy steps. This is for
Isaac who taught
me that true friends are
priceless and to never let them slip away. I miss you. Jayme Lemke Grade 10 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Grandpa I remember
my grandfather, sitting in
the tan recliner while he laughed. I remember
watching a football game and two
other shows simultaneously; He, like my
dad, would always
be changing the channel. I remember
the nice work shirts that my
Grandfather would always wear, that my
father still wears. I remember
tan, not like the recliner, but tan like
his farmer boy skin had too much sun; he found out too late that it had. I remember
my grandfather standing, talking to
my dad and my uncles on the beach about the weather and me and my uncle's
girlfriend. My
grandfather was like a smile; he was
always ready to laugh, and his
laughter was always contagious. Julie McClain Troy High
School Love as Coachmen: Parts I & II Love seeps
like blood from Innocent
lambs His mercy
like chocolate Invites her
withdrawal Love like an
Odyssey Kept by the
juice of Lotus
blossoms Happily,
unconsciously Drunk Love is the
merriment Of needy
souls It is
stained glass in a chapel Love is
glass Love as
anxious coachmen Of mice and
serpents Invite you
to Mount the
carriage for No material
cost Where shall
we go? Where shall
we go? I. Floodlights
fade On
playgrounds where Red
weathered See-saws
tilt To one side And
beautiful children with Outstretched
hearts Eclipse one
another with Empty
sleeves Belonging to
mind-altering Nutrasweet
melodies And scorched
by Hazel
explosions In Ins
Superman hat she Stands
amongst raindrops That turn
cold when his warm Pine scent Forces the
wind Sleep in my
youth She pleads Over
strawberry wine Eulogies for
happiness Fall on deaf
ears Battered by
the Lust for
Love II. Above atoms
who fuse for Gold bars
and elevator rides Above those
who lose love like katydids And morning
dew Homeless
prophets with Dirty hands
& God's
omniscience Know their
fate Their
dissolution And suicidal
motives But us . . . We'll live You kiss my
lips Cracked and
dry but Taste honey
and freesia Melted into
the cracks by The friction
of their words & I
promise you one day we'll Dance in
million watt bulbs On Christmas
trees In the heat
of July Buried in
clouds We'll live
like pharaohs Fitted with
life preservers On diamond
chains We'll mix
martinis with the bones Of those who
said I could never Live in your
flame And we'll
invite the weary Sidewalk
gods to toast With us To you,
We'll say As the
glasses chime But how did
you know All along That we'd
outrun the mob And they'll
reply It's simple,
My boy She loved
you like rubies Before you
were golden Malaika I. Robinson Grade 12 St. Ursula
Academy Teacher:
Mrs. Sue Loechle The Anopheles Mosquito Losing my
best friend; A Texas
twang replacing the East coast
smoothness of my Sister-friend.
I suffer Permanently
paralyzed, Deprived of
freewill Condemned to
consistent uncertainty. Left in
solitude with the Echo of a
buckling shoe Shattering
eardrums; anger Bleeding
eyes as tears Refuse to
spill over. Precious
memories--slipping from a Rocky edged
cliff Falling Falling South Heat that
cannot melt away the Destruction
of confidence; Cannot heal
insecurity or Nourish
love. Loneliness--like
an Anopheles
mosquito-- Drains blood
from my Strongest
muscle. Consumed by
passionate Loathing--I
fear crumbling Into myself. Nidhi Sinha Grade 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Weight For Me I've got the
wanna lose weight blues. A slim sleek
body is what I dream of. Yeah, a slim
sleek body is what I dream of. Like Tyra
Banks. But the
world just doesn't get that. The Hersheys
and the Nestles are all against me. And me,
laden with pounds, can't make it. I've got the
wanna lose weight blues. I love going
to the gym. Yeah, I
really love going to the gym. But getting
off the couch Is what I
what I can't do. But then,
what's the use? The weights
and the treadmills Are against
me. And me,
laden with pounds, can't make it. I've got the
wanna lose weight blues. I saw the
ads for those weight-reducing pills. Yeah, I saw
the ads for those weight-reducing pills. (You don't
have to sweat it out at the gym. Or starve
yourself to death. Miraculous
results in just two weeks!! Side
effects-could prove fatal.) So I, laden
with pounds, can't make it. I've got the
wanna lose weight blues Dorothy Strickland Grade 12 Mt. Notre
Dame High School Teacher:
Mrs. Sandra Purdy Song of Probity I am pale
blue: soft, but loud I can be a
weeping baby: upset and yearning for I am a
misshapen circle: mostly balanced, but in some ways crooked I can be a
psychotic mother: living vicariously through someone else I can be
Marilyn Monroe: gorgeous and irresistible I am a
shimmy: full of energy and exotic I can be a
heroin addict: bloodshot eyes and lacking sleep I hope to be
the National Anthem: Existing for years and still having charm I am a
"Yow": something loud that causes attention I can be a
tourist in Paris: foreign and confused I am a
wooden stool: firm, but sometimes wobbly I can be a
pregnant teenager: carrying around a mistake that can never be forgotten I can be
President Clinton: using lies to escape punishment I am a piece
of chocolate: sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter I can be a
dog with its tail: chasing something I will never be able to catch I can be
Princess Diana: someone whose elegance is never forgotten I am a 1977
VW Bug: beaten up and unable to run properly at times I can be a
bungee jumper: falling far and fast without a clue as to what is ahead I am a
pepper: hot and spicy I can be a
circus clown: hiding behind a mask of happiness I can be
Calypso: seducing and abusive of boys I am a
saxophone: full of noise and interesting I can be an
exotic dancer: making money in a cheap, sleazy way I can be
Oprah Winfrey: intellectual and good to talk to I am a
congested city: filled with constant screaming and anger I can be a
drunk driver: dangerous and having a blurred vision of the world I am a hair
ribbon: smooth, but frayed on the edges I can be a
city bum: rummaging and begging in order to survive I hope to be
a star: glowing away from all others I am Dorothy
Carol Strickland I am myself Jennifer Tung Grade 12 Pickerington
High School Teacher:
Mrs. Carol Low Danse Macabre I am the
eye, not the subject Of this
pathetic scenery, I work Outside of
plot, far from danger, Taking in
your fancy footwork as if Viewing a
crime scene. You reach out, An offering
of bone, beckoning to your Multitudes
of flesh in ravaged hunger. Little do
you know that I, too, have Been offered
a hand of bone in place of Love;
betrayal is as familiar to my fingers as The embrace
of a trusted friend. I know Your con. I
remember you like a bad Acquaintance.
This landscape is choreographed by Crows
hovering overhead, off To the side,
partially hidden Under wooden
frames upholding this whole Malicious business. They know as well As you (and
I) that the deal Is gilded,
one-sided, a scandal Of profit
which will only be disclosed In the deep
reaches of the earth, In caverns
far from fleshy listenings, Far from
wandering eyes that might carry Your secret
out of the muteness of the Soil and
spread it Unhindered To the
knowledge of the world. Lindsey Weating Grade: 12 Sylvania
Southview High School Teacher:
Mrs. Nanette Fetter Moments of Surrender Long waves
of dark mask black cypresses far off and gently Take the
sumptuous clouds and roofs within their wake. Like shadows
looming out of a dream The ivy
drops its handkerchiefs, and Spindle
trees unspool scarlet yarn. Darkness
slows and encumbers, dissolving into dusk. One rung at
a time I begin to step out of the night; Possibilities
descend, flashing dark color off preened feathers In wings
barely stirring, whispering ever so lightly. If I can
take the dark with open eyes And call it
seasonal, not harsh nor strange, And lose
what I lose to keep what I can keep, Then
security will transcend all things. The night
rises, a tremendous tide, A thinking
heart, a feeling mind Of warmth
and flesh As if the
night had never once been tender Or required,
like love, a moment of surrender.
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