"Knight in Shining Armor" by Alex Loseke

Sometimes, I wish life was more like a fairytale- containing everything: the princesses, princes, queens, fairy godmothers, and knights in shining armor. The prince charming, or knight was never too more than a few flipped pages ahead. There were singing and dancing pots and candles, and the beauty always seemed to fall for the beast. My godmother could fix any of my problems just by simply waving a wand; and in the end everything always seemed to work out.

                When I was little, my life revolved around these stories, without them I wouldn’t be nearly the same person I now am. I modeled my childhood around them, you could have given me, simply, a puffy “princess” dress and a pair of shiny shoes, told me I was queen of a small village, and I could have went into a thirty minuet explanation about who I was, where I came from, and who I would end up marrying (including any detail you would want to know about him). Ever since then, I have been a hopeless romantic searching for the perfect “prince”, just like in every fairytale you can think of.  Hypothetically, I’ve spent countless nights waiting by my window sill, for that one night the perfect guy will ride up on his horse, break into song and win my heart forever.

                Every time I read a fairytale, the story isn’t complete without all the main characters. There always need be a princess, or damsel in distress, a queen, the mother or father of the princess that tries to life her life for her, a jealous knight or another person fighting for the thrown, both are trying to harm the princess, but then there is always the knight or prince, the one that always save the princess from the terrifying tower, or the menacing dragon. A story lacking any of these parts would simply be unsatisfying.

                Today, in modern society, it isn’t unlikely to see young girls selling themselves short, hoping to find their knight in shining armor, in the wrong ways. Most people have lost hope in the any sort of good guy, or simply won’t give him a chance. One day, I plan on making it my goal to find a caring, kind-hearted ‘prince’, capable of proving everyone wrong, he may not appear in a suit of armor, ready to take on the world, but armed in his tin-foil, will make an effort.  When they say good guys no longer exist, he’ll make sure they’re wrong. I have faith, and still haven’t lost hope in fairytales, that one day we will all find our “knight in shining armor”.

"Reflections" a Monolgue by Emilee Johnson

“Who are you?” Mia said to her reflection. “At one point, I looked into this exact mirror and saw someone different, I saw myself. Now I see someone who isn’t me. The real me doesn’t wear the heavy makeup, fake eyelashes, or this stupid nose stud. Who I see now isn’t the real me. Everyone who sees me doesn’t get a chance to see past the character that I put on. All they see is the done-up, perfect me. I’m tired of people thinking that I’m perfect, unstoppable, because I’m not. I go out on stage almost every night and pretend to be someone I’m not. I’m not the girl that goes out and finds trouble, or the wild girl that I act like. Underneath the act, underneath all of the makeup and tiny outfits, I’m just a normal teenage girl. No one sees me for who I used to be, not even myself. I’m not even talking to myself right now; I’m talking to the new me. It’s almost like I’m talking to a whole other person. You look so fake, you look unhappy. The real Mia would never wear this much makeup, or have the perfect looking skin. It’s all a mask,” Mia said harshly, staring straight at her reflection. It was almost good vs. evil, old vs. new.

                “I can’t keep going on like this, being so unreal and plastic. You act so perfect and lovely, but inside you know that you aren’t really like this. People look up to you, to me, and this is what we give them. The old Mia was beaten down by the fame and money, and this is what she became. This is what I became. I’m tired of this. You aren’t me.” With those last words to the reflection, Mia picked up the lamp next to her, and slammed it forcefully into the mirror. Her reflection was gone, nothing but broken pieces.

"Awe" By Erin Slattery

The atmosphere shines golden blue
The shimmering skies above lined with a heavenly tint
Seeing with the eyes that have not sought, I see

In the presence of this splendor there was something true
Invisible intangible hands have left their fingerprints across my heart 
This is creation. This is artistry.

Hands that shaped the mountains
Breath that breathes the wind
Tears that bring life-giving water

How could one not take the time to see?
Take just one breath of a moment to look into the sky.
To look and see Your face

How could one not turn to their neighbor’s eyes?
How could they not see Your love burning deep?
See Your passion

I have seen You
Seen You in Your creation
In just one minute of one day

Oh Lord, your love shines in all things magnificent
You are awesome
You are You

You are Love

"A Wannabe Elitist Poet" by Tom Knoblauch

Oh how I long to be

A real poet.

One who finds no difficulty

In putting pen to paper,

Finger to keyboard,

Mind to words.

One of those who

Thinks, dreams, lives

Poetry. Unlike me.

Finding the muse for poetry

Will not happen for me.

I’ll be one of the appreciators

Who never is able to contribute

To the great list of poets

The earth has seen.

Never will my name be listed

Alongside Cummings, Gibran, Whitman, etc.

I am forever going to be, simply,

A wannabe elitist poet.

‘’Before Falling Asleep’’ by Jordan Boucher

Do I have hockey practice tomorrow?
I don’t think so.
Yes, I do at 5:00.
I think I’m going to workout after.
Upper or lower body tomorrow?
Obviously upper!
I wonder how I did on my church history test today?
Probably just awful.
I think I did well on my biology test though.
I forgot to do my home works tonight.
I had church history, biology, and algebra.
I had also chemistry.
Oh well…
It’s not like I care about school anyway.
Should I wake up earlier to get it done?
No! Why did I even ask this question?
So when the sun comes up, I’ll be there to say what’s up in the morning, brush my teeth…
I love this song!
I ate such a good chicken burrito at dinner today.
So good but not as good as Chipotle.
I have to go to the bathroom.
No, I’m too lazy to get up.
I really need to go.
Ok, I’m going.
Oh, that feels good.
I am so tired.
I’m cold.
I’m also so thirsty.
I want a glass of chocolate milk.
I’ll be quick.
No, never mind bad idea.
There is no way I’m going up stair.
I’ll just take water.
Alright lets go back to sleep now.
Those blankets feel so good.
So comfortable.
I need stop talking to myself.
Wait what was that song I heard on the radio today after school?




What was it?
Oh yeah, we are who we are by Kesha.
She is so good and so young still.
She has a lot of potential.
I hope tomorrow’s day will go by fast.
Thanks giving break is coming up.
So excited!
Also Christmas is going to be unreal.
Two weeks in Florida.
With all my family.
I can’t wait.
I want to go on face book right now.
No, let’s go to sleep.
Zzzzzzz…

"One Last Goodbye" by Emilee Johnson

“I have to go,” Peter said quietly, avoiding her gaze.

“I know,” she whispered. Cora couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She didn’t know when she’d see him again, or even if she’d ever see him again. Cora lifted her eyes to his face, her eyes tracing every feature of his body, trying to commit them to memory. She mentally engraved his crooked nose, his perfectly shaped lips, his chocolate brown eyes, and his freckled cheeks.

“You know I’ll be home soon, and I can call you almost every day,” Peter trailed off, afraid that if he kept going he might lose it. He knew that he couldn’t do that in front of Cora, she wouldn’t be able to be strong if he couldn’t.

“Peter, I don’t think I can handle it here without you. It’s so close to the time…” Cora couldn’t finish her sentence. Peter gently touched her stomach, where his first child was resting away. The thought of missing the birth of his first child almost killed him, but the badge on his chest and the boots on his feet were his job, and his passion.

“You have to be strong, we have to be strong. I’ll be home before you know it. I know exactly what I’m doing and I’ll do everything I have to just to get home to you.”

Cora closed her eyes, holding back the waterfall of tears she knew was coming. He had dedicated himself to the Army before they’d ever met. His roughness and proud job had been something that had originally attracted her to him, but now the thought of him leaving her for the first time was the scariest thought she’d ever had.

“I have to get going. I’ll call you as soon as we land in Texas and before we leave for Iraq.”

Just the mention of his destination made her shiver. She buried her face into his strong chest, and wrapped her arms around him. His arms held her for what seemed like a second, but in reality a much longer embrace. It took all of her strength to let him go off into the tunnel, and onto the plane.

“I love you, Cora,” Peter said with nothing but truth in his voice.

“I love you too, Peter.”

And before she knew it, he was gone, her last words to him circling in her mind, still fresh on her lips. It was there last goodbye.

"The Boy and the Girl, Part II" by Will Wright

    He walked down the hallway.  He was just another face in the crowd.  No one noticed his smile or the bounce in his step.  In the busy school of 3000 students, he had no one to share his complete and utter joy with.  He of course, didn’t mind this small fact.  He was happy! Everything seemed brighter now, as if the fluorescent bulbs were trying their absolute hardest to bathe the jam packed corridor with light.  Look at that poster! I’ve noticed that before!  What a great display of colors and words, that is so beautiful! He thought this as he passed by the poster that displayed the escape plans in case of an emergency.  The young student continued down the hallway to his locker.  His beautiful, amazing locker that he had been slammed into so many times and that was impossible to open.  Today was different. Today it was the greatest storage unit he had ever seen. Something had happened earlier that made his mood sore higher than the ceiling of the auxiliary gym.  It happened at the locker he was standing at. A girl had approached him, voluntarily.

    The memory was still vivid in his mind, as if it had only happened this morning.  That morning he was struggling with the combination to his stupid and worthless locker when a bully shoved him into the cold metal surface.  His glasses fell off of his face and shattered when they hit the ground.  That was the third broken pair of glasses this year.  An unhappy mother would be waiting for him at home.  As he bent down to pick up the now worthless spectacles he saw two feet that had not been there just a moment ago.  They were two of the most beautiful feet he had ever seen.  Enveloped by light blue Asics cross-trainers, the shoes did not simply pass him by, but stood there as if they were waiting for something.  But what could they be waiting for? The boy became frantic and started to look up, past the smooth, shiny legs and the oh-so-perfect jean shorts.  All the way up to the faded novelty t-shirt.  At this point the image grew fuzzy.  He could not see her face, so he was forced to stand up and say something to the girl; at least he thought she was a girl.  He rose from his crouching position and gulped.  He looked into the eyes of the most exquisite face he had ever seen.  Her eyes were a deep green, with a nose like a perfectly smooth pebble.  Her cheeks were as rough as velvet and her forehead fit perfectly in with the rest of her face.  Not too big and not too small, like a puzzle piece.  Her lips curved in the exact shape God intended and her chin tied the whole face together.  Her hair was a red, so vibrant that it appeared that her head was sincerely on fire.  But that was alright, it seemed to warm him from the inside out.  And her ears, oh how her ears were curvy and were accented perfectly by the lovely diamond earrings she had on.  Her teeth were a shade of white so bright that it was difficult for the boy not to squint as he starred blankly at her.
   
    On the other side of this equation was the boy.  He was practically nothing to look at.  His face was as plain as the school lunch he was digesting.  His clothing actually took away most of his identity rather than add to it.  His tiny frame quivered as he looked longingly at the angelic creature in front of him.  He longed to say a word, any word would do.  That is all he wanted.  However, nothing would come out.  He simply stood there, transfixed.

    By this time the encounter had begun to garner attention by a large portion of the student body.  They had never seen anything like this before.  How could THAT girl approach THAT guy?  It simply wasn’t possible.  But when the collection of people began to think about this odd spectacle they realized how absolutely adorable the notion was.  A popular and beautiful girl, possibly interested in the most uninteresting person in school, HOW PRECIOUS!

    Suddenly the bell rang and the boy was jerked from his fond memory of that morning.  He collected his books from the best storage unit in the world and continued on his way to his biology class.

"Immigrant Recycle" by Clare

Cycles have to begin somewhere. There is always a start.
    To finish, you must begin.
Begin before start – place there Benjamin
Ben was there at start, the birth or rebirth.
    Germans NO! Complexion can never be US
Yet invited. Unwanted. US is bad host.
Always inviting then unwanting.
        Please come!         Says US
        Please work!         Says US
    We are overrun.
    What will be done
    Who allowed this
    Why are they here
    You are not allowed
    We did not say you could come
Quick—the wall!
Build it,

high,

electrified,

sharp

place guards,
    dogs,
        guns
    Keep back the guests!
    Ruining economy
    Taking jobs
US’s anxiety grows,
Misconstrued theories
US lies to self
Go home unwanted
But invited!
ALL lies lies lies. US lies in lies
DREAM fails.
               
                    Cycle must continue
Oh the lies!



                               

"Again and Again" by Cate Elliott

I remember when they told me about it,

I remember being nine.

Running up and down the halls, chanting its name.

Looking at the floor, deep filth covered it.

Then it was time to go in again, it was fresh and particular now.

Years past, I chanted its name again and again.

Then it stopped. My memories traumatized.

I remember walking out for the very last time,

Smelling the air for the very last time,

Running my hands on the wall for the very last time.

Riding out and into the world,

Filled with perplexity and grief

Tears in my eyes,

Missing it

wishing I could be back

Chanting its name again and again

"Berlin Blues" by Mark Mendick

For over ten years I have walked these streets wondering what went wrong. I ponder the times my friends and I ran through the streets playing tag and the lot next to our apartment where we played soccer. Now the “mauer”, wall, stares at me with a blank face. It belittles me and contains me like an animal at the zoo. Twelve feet of concrete reinforced with steel prevent me from living a life I once knew as free. I look along the wall and see a guard with a gray, deathly hue. How I hate those men with their big guns loaded and waiting for the oppourtunity to shoot anyone willing to risk their lives for the freedom they once posessed. I cannot fathom the pure evil that is going on in each guard’s mind. If you have to use deadly force to keep a group of people from escaping their own “mutterland” , motherland, then how do you not realize that you are doing something wrong? You have to force your own people to stay in their own homes? Communism is the root of all suffering. I am stopped three times on the way back to my apartment and asked for identification. How I wish the “tag der einheit” or day of unity would come. I have not seen or heard from my family since last spring. If only I had listened to my wife and got out of Berlin and into West Germany. I have always been too stubborn and proud to listen. My luck is always the worst. I thought about trying to escape but after they shot a man yesterday for getting too close to the wall, I have decided otherwise.Its funny how God may be trying to send you signs but you never think it will happen to you.

"The Argument" by Mary Ellen Mooter

    They sat together with their eyes averted, the tenseness palpable.  The girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering how to break the silence.

    “Listen, I didn’t really mean it,” she started out softly, trying to reconcile.
    “Sure, of course you didn’t, you never do.”  His sarcasm was evident and cut her deeply.
     “Hey, you don’t have to be so mean about it!  I swear I won’t say it again, and I really mean it this time!”  She was almost pleading now, and she felt rather pathetic for it.
    “Every time I bring this up with you and try, and I mean really try, to be serious with you, you always end up deflecting and acting like it doesn’t matter.  But this really means a lot to me.  I need to know your answer before I take the next step in this relationship!”
    “Well, I just don’t think it’s that important really.”  She instantly regretted her words when she saw the fury in his eyes.
    “So basically the stuff that’s incredibly important to me is just nothing to you and you could care less about it.  Am I right?”  His arms were crossed now, hostility emanating from him.  Their food remained untouched from when the waiter had brought it about ten minutes ago.  The waiter had not reappeared, apparently having sensed the storm brewing between the two when he had brought their meals.  An indication of this was the uncertainty with which he had told them to enjoy their dinner.  The girl recalled all this now, looking helplessly over to where he was, hoping he would come and break up this miserable conversation.
    “That’s not true,” she trailed off, casting her eyes downward as she told the little white lie.
    “Oh, I think it is!  And if this is how you really feel about it, then I think we’re done!”  He was standing now, reaching for the coat on the back of his chair.  She followed him to the door, pleading with him to just stay and forget about it all.  He bluntly refused, and opened the door with a soft tinkling of the bell.  A blast of cold air hit her, raising goose bumps all along her bare legs and arms.  She shivered, not just from the cold outside but also from his sudden iciness.
    “Well fine!  Be that way!” she shouted after him, eyes narrowed in dislike.  “What a jerk,” she mumbled, heading back to her seat.  The waiter intercepted her halfway there.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine.  Glad to be rid of him actually.”
    “What was it all about anyway?  I could tell you two were really about to go at it.”
    “Oh, it was really stupid,” she scoffed, “I accidentally called his favorite pastime, video games, a waste of time and said they made people lose brain cells.”  They both laughed, filled with happiness even with the supposed sadness of the break-up.
    “Hey, you want to hang out sometime and talk about how video games are destroying people’s minds?”
    “Sure,” she smiled happily, realizing that even with the end of one relationship, a new friendship was beginning again from the ashes.