Summer

School is almost done
Soon all the students will be gone
Teachers will plan next year
Summer is here
Kids run and play
I only have one thing to say
I'll see you all next year!

I'd like to say thank you to all the creative writing students for being good listeners and also Miss Olson for teaching this class. I hope that next year's students take this class, as I know I loved it!  Also, thank you Mrs. Blocher for the times you came to visit. I know I'll miss this class and this group of students.

Excitedly tired

I'm so excited        
                                             I'm so tired
Heading outside
                                             Staying in
Hungry.                              
                                                 Tired
Happy.              
                                                 Tired
Running around
                                                 Tired
Everything is exciting.             Everything is tiring

 Climbing a tree
                                                Climbing into bed
Exploring the woods
                                                 Exploring my dreams
Watch the sunset
                                                Sleep through the sun rise
Waking for breakfast
                                                 Waking for lunch
Head back outside
                                                    Stay inside
Excited.                                           Tired
         

From the Moon & Sun

I saw her there

I saw him there

Beyond the land

And the sea

Her fiery light

His mysterious glow

We are opposites We are opposites

Her and I

Him and I

But I still have hope But I still have hope

Someday

Soon

Our paths will cross

And for one moment

One earth-shattering moment

My shadow

And my Rays

Will collide Will collide

But then

But then

We'll be torn apart We'll be torn apart

It's a forbidden love

It was never meant to be

A.H.

Without

Without her I'm lost.
without her I'm lost
                                                                Without him I'm nothing.
Don't remember the beginning. Don't remember the beginning.
But I know she is true to me.
And I know he will not hurt me.
Sparks fly with her soft touch.
Stars explode with his loving caresses.

How can we stop?
How can I love another? How can I love another?

She loves me like a ruby.
He cares for me like a diamond.
Will it be? Will it be?
Can it be? Can it be?
Shall it be? Shall it be?

With her angelic voice.
And his melodic tone.
We are one. We are one.

Is it possible for our love to fail? Is it possible for our love to fail?
She completes me.
As does he to me.

Baby don't leave? Sweetheart I will never go.
CK

Summers finally come

Your friends begin to run

This chapter ends

As another begins 

High school was a blast

I will never forget my class

Until we meet again

So long til then

KDH

Today
I don't want to blog
I just want to be a bump on a log
Until tomorrow.

Devyn

20 below article

Imagine you are sitting in the Devaney Center at the state basketball tournament.  You're watching two teams play.  One of the schools you've never even heard of before.  Every year there is a team that attends a speech meet or is on the state tournament bracket that raises some eyebrows, making people question where they fall on the map.  In most cases, these unfamiliar school names are a result of a school consolidation.  More and more schools are consolidating each year.  Thirteen years ago, Albion and Petersburg, the towns in which I live smack dab in between, decided to follow.
In 2001, the towns of Petersburg and Albion consolidated to become Boone Central.  Ten years later, a one-year contract combined the junior high sports teams of Boone Central and Newman Grove.  This test trial went well, leading to the high school athletic teams of the two schools co-oping in the following 2012 school year.
Boone Central's merge has, for the most part, ended smoothly.  Probably a major cause of this is the fact that the newly merged Cardinals won the state football title in their first season together.
Sports are not the only positive, though.  If you talk to the average student, they might say that their middle school days were miserable.  But if you talk to a Boone Central student, they'll smile and reminisce on racing up the stairs, playing soccer at the field, or riding the bus.  Why do our students get a stress-free middle school experience?  Maybe it's because they're distanced 13 miles away from the high schoolers in Albion.  If the junior high was constantly interacting with the high school, they would feel pressured to be like them.  A junior girl stated, "In the most awkward stage of our lives, we got to be separated.  I didn't want to go to high school, I loved middle school so much."
However, like all mergers, there are some cons.  The students from Petersburg have a longer distance to travel.  Buses don't run to each individual house.  The biggest adjustment of all is that no town wants to lose their school.  Both schools also had to reduce their staff at the time of the merger.  As a result, some teachers were RIFed.
As for Newman Grove, we are only with them for sports.  Most people would say that it's gone well.  But others say there's been some issues.  "There is drama created by both of our schools," says one sophomore.  Many people are indifferent to the matter since our schools aren't consolidated.  One Newman Grove junior replied  "I honestly don't care.  I don't think we'll combine schools any time soon."  Most athletes would agree, though, that they enjoy having Newman Grove with us.
Whatever drama there may be, it won't be noticed by a visitor.  Adults and students alike from Albion, Petersburg, and Newman Grove get along just fine.  "If we wouldn't have consolidated, I wouldn't have a lot of the friends that I have," noted one sophomore.  That is so true.  We've become a family here at Boone Central/Newman Grove.

Ha

Lose lose

It was just another Friday night. A night of helmets clashing, bright lights, loud cheers, and walking onto the field playing the game I admired the most. It was just another Friday night, until...

..."Take another drink of water!", my coach tells me as I run off the field panting, trying to catch my breath. Hectic cheers, high screams, and piercing whistles pour out all around me. Water-boys run toward me, handing me a big green bottle filled with ice cold water. The game had just started. I came out for a mere 2 seconds because of my oddly bent finger, but my replacement had already ran onto the field. "Good," I thought. "now I can get this jammed finger wrapped." As I'm sprinting over to get it taped, I heard whistles blow and then a dead silence. What could have possibly happened to calm down the roaring crowd? Then I realized, somebody was hurt. As every player on that field took a knee to the ground, hoping their teammate would soon get up, I could finally see who it was. It was my twin brother. "Maybe he's fine! He just sprained a muscle or something", I had hoped. But then after several minutes I realized, "No, it was Matt. He really is hurt." Thoughts run through my head as if the world had turned upside down. All these years of hard work and commitment, all put down to shame through one single play. I didn't know what to think. Do I think for the worst or try to stay optimistic? After several plays, my mind couldn't concentrate on football. All I was thinking about was Matt. I tried many times to run over to see how he was doing, but I needed to be in. I finally made my decision to think for the worst as I watched my brother get carried off the field on a stretcher, and rushed to the hospital.

ES

Gliding Down the Aisle

A beautiful woman prepares for the rest of her life
Her husband-to-be's eyes sparkle with glee.
As she walks down the aisle to become a wife,
His heart thumps, she owns the key.
A tiny ring bearer walks next to the flower girl,
Family and friends from everywhere fill each pew.
The petals on the floor create a dreamy swirl,
The church is a big pot of wedding stew.
Heels make the bridesmaids weary
Her father walks with his baby,
And tissues are passed out to the teary.
The groom thinks maybe, just maybe
Something borrowed, something blue
Someday I'll glide down the aisle with my baby, too.


kz

A Green Day

A green day is working in the fields.  A wagon hooked onto the tractor a Baylor or bail fork.  It doesn't matter working in the fields.  I love the feel of the accelerator riding against my thumb, the controls under my fingers and my left hand on the steering wheel.  I love the small crackle that's in the radio and impossible to get rid of.  The warm afternoon with the door open to let in the fresh air.  Fields of corn, of wheat, of alfalfa, I love them all.

Mr. Dodge

Middle School Bully

     I remembered when they called her bad names. They said some pretty nasty things actually. I would go and sympathize with her and I would tell her all the things that made her special. Making the effort to try and convince her that what other people said didn't matter but I never once stood up to the people doing the crime. I wish I would have said something. I didn't know how she felt and so I guess it really didn't affect me as much. If some way I could reverse time I wouldn't let people talk to her the way that they did and maybe things would have been different.

Kell

These I Have Loved:

Freshly clipped fingernails,
Chugging a glass of milk after being in the blazing sun for too long,
Used shoes, just to the point where they squish in more than they're supposed to,
Rain, the thick guys, the ones that plop and splat on impact,
Songs that spark memories and motion pictures in my head,
Moonlight overflowing on the blackness,
The heat that hasn't yet scorched my skin,
Disney movies, no matter how old I am,
Softness, silk, plush,
White puffy clouds, low to the ground as if I could touch them,
Chili wrapped up in a hot dog filled bun,
That after shower smell,
The burning tightness of muscles after raising the bar,
A cold glide through a ripple on too hot of a day,
The little things on a green overgrown road.

JayZ

Rainy Days and Windowpanes

It was a day just like any other day. As the sun broke through the horizon, Amelia groaned to the startling sounds of Michael Jackson blaring from her radio.  6:00, time to get up.  Hugging her pillow, Amelia strained to open her eyes, contemplating hitting the snooze button so she could have 10 more minutes of her dream.  Staring at her ceiling, the last trails of having the power to fly slipped away while a quiet creak of an open door escaped her.  “Meeea?  You wake?”  At the hushed whisper she flipped on her side and grinned at her youngest brother’s scrunched funny face peering over her mound of blankets.

“Come here, you,” she grunted while lifting 3 year old Todd up and over into her warm cocoon of pillows.  “It’s going to wain today, Meeea” he said as she hugged his pajama-clad body close to her.  “Really?” she yawned.  “It looks sunny to me buddy,” Amelia replied as rays of light danced across her wood floor.  She felt her eyes close as his little fingers ran through her long hair. 

Slam.  “AMELIA!”  The shout of her mom ripped Amelia from sleep—sitting up she glanced down to see her little brother waking up.  “OH NO!” She cried, seeing 7:23 on the clock.  “Todd, wake up bud, I’m going to be late!”  Jumping out of bed, she grabbed clothes off her floor, yanking on a clean shirt and hopping into jeans while looking for her shoes.  Todd giggled and followed her down the stairs, where the rest of Amelia’s brothers sat, finishing their breakfast at the table.  “Mom, I’m so sorry…I have to go.” Grabbing toast and a slice of bacon, she kissed her brothers on the head, snatched her backpack, and ran out the door. 

The bus doors hissed shut as Amelia made her way back to the last open seat.  If she was lucky, the driver would get her to the 8^th Avenue stop in 20 minutes today.  She would have to run, but she could make first block on time.  Staring out the window, she glanced at the loving families on the sidewalk brushing shoulders with businessmen in suits on their phones making deals.  As the bus rounded the corner, clouds crossed the sun.  “How does that little stinker do it?  Every time!” she thought, as storm clouds approached the city.

Morning classes were a blur of facts, numbers, and plenty of notes.  In Psychology, Amelia’s seat next to the window proved a distraction as raindrops hit the pane.  She grinned, thinking of her baby brother sitting on the couch staring outside.  After what felt like an eternity, Amelia finally reached her free block, a chance to go to the class of her choosing.  As always, she made her way to Creative Writing. The smell of coffee and paint hit her as soon as she entered the door.  Vibrant color, books, pottery, and glass art encased the room.  Here she truly felt alive!  After waving to her teacher, she made her way towards her work area where her friend Glenn sat at their shared desk.  He was already working on a project centered around the power of the written word—his desk was littered with newscasts, ads, and protest signs.  “Hi Glenn, looks great,” she said as she dropped her book bag on the ground.  After hearing his grunt of thanks, Amelia got to work.  Grabbing a laptop, she opened up her latest project.  Photoshop opened to her waiting masterpiece as Todd’s predicted rain continued to fall.  After grabbing a coffee she got to work on the hue of the wheat fields in her self-portrait.  Her brother would really like this one!

~Ms. O 

Dark in the Light

America since the beginning has been a country founded on pure unadulterated bada**ery.  From the men of Jamestown sailing to America, to the billionaire playboys in modern times, America has had so many bright shining ideals, but behind every shining light, is the dirty coal mine that supplies the electricity.
Every hero in American history has had a dark side. The settlers at Jamestown, warred with the native Americans that already lived in the area. The Revolutionary War heroes, every last one of them was committing treason to their country, and if the revolution were to fail, they all would have been tried and hanged for treason. The men who fought in both world wars witnessed things that no man should ever see. And America's golden boy John Wayne was an extreme racist who believed in white supremacy.
Not downplaying the magnitude of all of these people, but when looking back on history, remember that there is always bad inside the good.


T. A. Zwiebel

the dreams we make

to dream first you must sleep
to find diamonds you must dig deep
hidden in our imagination
our hopes just an exaggeration
distant places we never see
created by you and me
our secret places to hide
deep deep inside
but when we start to wake
thats when we make our mistake
because our dream goes away
leaving tiny sparks of hope to stay

by:TLB

My life

I am from boots,
From Tonka toys and hot wheels
I am from the A-frame, Simply, timeless, a time honored place
I am from the earth, the corn plant whose, sweet and dry.
I'm  from the sets own meal, and endless stories
From Ted and Maxine and pollacks
I'm From corn on the cob and working men
From stand back to stay close
I'm from the Catholic roots and Sunday drives
I'm from an adoption,
From steak and eggs.
From the plow runners
The wrinkled foreheads
And a polka song
I'm from a sanoma pickup and chocolate chip cookies.

Mr. Dodge

Tomorrow Anyway

When I have nothing to do, I love

To lay in my bed and think, about music

Or the plants I want in my yard next spring

I check my email over and over again, hoping

That something new and exciting will be waiting

For me there, while playing games on my iPad.

I loving sitting on the edge of my porch, where I can

watch the cars flying by, or the people happily

walking down the sidewalk.

After awhile, I'll go sit by my flowers, admiring

Their natural beauty, thinking about what I could

Add to my garden for next spring.

I love to listen to music, singing along

or maybe conducting, drifting between those

Grand pandora stations floating from tune to tune.

I'll play the piano, or rearrange my room

Bake a cake, or brownies, or maybe even some cookies

I'll walk through the house day dreaming about beautiful things.

I'll be there in bed tonight, thinking about everything I had done

Then I'll think about what I should have accomplished today,

Never mind that though, I have tomorrow anyway.

AC

Calm Whispers of Silence

Walking through the giant forest
Seeing beautiful growth
Of gorgeous green trees
That have pointed leaves
That sway in the wind
Waving to the near by animals
But I hear no whispers of wind
Nor hear any musical chirps
from the gifted birds up above

Gliding across the old dirt path
I stumble upon a babbling brook
Watching as the calm water
Spills over the rocks
Back into the stream
But I hear no trickling of water

With a sigh
I head back toward camp
To see my children
Having smiles across their face
Shoulders moving up and down
I know they're laughing
But I hear no laugher
I never hear their angelic voices

I walk over to my sleeping husband
Lay my head on his chest
And feel the thumping of his heart
But I hear no musical rhythm
Rising from his inner most being
The sound that calls for me
Yet I can not answer

Sleep comes easy
No chirping crickets
No roaring cars
No howling wolves
Only a complete deadly silence
That will never be able to be broken

I sleep
Through the screaming storm of night
And my blaring alarm
To be awaken by the light of day
And brought back
Into a world
Filled by a continuous hush
Of utter silence and complete nothingness

Bri

Haikus are quite nice
They all go five seven five
They are simple fun

Optimus prime

These I Have Loved

Rain drops scattered in an array on a window,
And silhouettes of trees against the light of the sun;
The fresh peacefulness after a storm on a dark, gloomy day,
And sitting in the company of silence; the musty paper smell of old
Books and the untouched cleanliness of the new; a chorus of male angels
Harmonizing in an acoustically sound room, contradicted by a tart bite of
Grandma's homemade rhubarb pie; the way my heart skips when I hear certain names,
And how one word could bring back so many memories; Polaroid photographs and how a collection of the simplest things could give a room a whole new meaning; the cold side of the pillow and the way I feel after writing a fantastic piece.
These I have loved, over and over.

A.H.