2002

Many Voices,

One Body

 

 

 

Metro-East Lutheran High School's

Fine Arts Festival

11 April 2002

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voice of Ashley Jones

 

Sleep Creeps Elusive

 

Sleep creeps elusive when rest you desire

Always there, but not quite

Just beyond your fingertips

In the outskirts of a dream.

 

No matter how you try

Your eyelids will not shut

Sleep slips away so easily

Like wind-blown specks of dust

 

But strange it is

And maddening

That when you least expect or want

Elusive sleep will come

 

It tiptoes up on kitten paws

And nibbles at your mind

It tugs at your awareness

And begs you to succumb

 

Succumb you must, for sleep is strong

And persuasive to a fault

No matter how you fight

It keeps holding on

 

Sleep is good, though fickle

It comes and goes at will

But when it comes, be thankful

That you can dream again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Graduation Night

 

It’s graduation night

And you all are leaving

Following different paths

Pursuing different dreams

I may cry later on

When reality hits me

That once you walk out that door

You may never come back

 

Still I hope we stay friends

Despite your absence

But already the halls seem so silent

 

It’s Graduation night

Pomp and Circumstance is playing

For the last time we are fellow students

As you walk side by side to your seats

 

Please don’t forget us or this place you leave behind

In spite of it all

You might miss it once you’re gone

 

Keep the memories you’ve made

And always take them with you

Because then you’ll never really be gone

 

It’s Graduation night

Words have failed me now

My pen pauses over paper

I don’t know how to end

 

It’s Graduation night

I guess there’s nothing left to say

But I’ll miss you

And good luck

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Greatest Adventure

 

There is a saying on my Religion teacher’s wall right now that reads “Life is either a great adventure or nothing at all.”  I hope this isn’t true because that would mean that I have wasted my entire life.  To me, a great adventure is something I read about in Star Wars books or watch in an Indiana Jones movie.  In all my sixteen years, I have never had a single adventure that could qualify as “great” against standards like that. 

            However, I believe that all of life is an adventure, great or otherwise.  It is an adventure because we, like Indiana Jones and Like Skywalker, never know what will happen next.  What lies around the next corner is always a mystery, no matter how many times we have traveled the road.  That is enough to make every day an adventure.

            With that in mind, I have to say that my life has been something of an adventure.  When I was little, it was adventuresome to explore my backyard with the help of Chad and Megan, two of my best childhood friends.  As I grew a little older and my backyard wasn’t nearly so exciting, it was an adventure staying up until three in the morning with my best friend Ashley at one of our sleepovers.  We watched Nick at Nite and later huddle frightened under the covers as we stared wide-eyed at the massive dog in the horror movie Cujo.

            In fifth grade I had back surgery to treat my scoliosis, and I needed the courage of Indiana Jones.  I started high school, and it was something I was sure would be as frightening as the Dark Side of the Force.   The next summer I had my first dating experience, and the next year I took my first two trips without my parents.

            Still, none of it seemed to be like the great adventures I dreamed of at night.  There were no explosions, fights against the forces of evil, or heroes’ welcomes.  Maybe I hope for too much and set my goals too high.  But, I believe that aiming high is part of life.  I expect life to be exciting, and I know that one day I’ll have the great adventures I dream about.  Even if I don’t, life is the greatest adventure I can have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Desert Night

 

            With a heavy sigh, the lone cowboy heaved himself off his stone gray horse and landed on the ground with a thud.  Dust rose thickly around his boots, swirling and dancing in the still, night air.

            He stretched the stiffness from his muscles and wiped the back of his gloved hand across his sweaty brow.  Rubbing his horse’s long, muscled neck, he murmured softly, “Hey, Thunder, you tired, boy?”  The animal snorted softly, turning his head toward his master with an inquisitive look in his brown eyes. 

            Smiling beneath three days worth of stubble, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a carrot.  Thunder shoved his muzzle against the man’s chest, then against his hand.  Stamping his left forefoot, he blew air out his nose, pressing harder, more insistently.

            The cowboy opened his hand, and the horse delicately drew the treat into his mouth.  He spent a few minutes rolling it around in his mouth before chewing several times and swallowing.

            Minutes later, there was a small, glowing fire on the ground.  The man lay back on his ragged blanket, head resting on Thunder’s hard, leather saddle.  The only sound came from the animal’s quiet grazing.  He knew the horse wouldn’t stray far, he never did.

            Staring up at the star-speckled sky, he watched as the moon, stars, and planets performed their ritual dance.  Before long, his horse came to stand beside him.  A wolf howled, the desert wind blew, the stars winked, and the two stayed side by side, a man and his horse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voice of Darci L. Butcher

 

Yeah, That’s Me

 

I know who she is; she never talks

Says the teacher.  That would be me.

I have some classes with her, I think

Says the industrious student.  Yeah, I’m here.

I don’t talk to her really at all

Says the prep, the jock, the socialite.  Me, again.

I think she’s really nice and fun

Says a friend I have.  Sure, that’s me,too.

I walk through the halls, unnoticed

With nothing to say, nothing to contribute

I sit in class, day after day

No one has anything to say to me, either.

One of these days I’m going to go away

And no one will think of me when I’m not there

Or at least they’ll move on and not care

What will they say about me when I leave?

Oh, her?  I didn’t know her.

Yeah, that’s me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stage Fright

 

We’ve practiced for weeks

It’s been difficult mostly

I am very nervous for my friends

But not for myself

The lights go down

An excited rush overtakes me

I stand quietly and wait to go on

Glancing around at everyone else

I realize my confidence is greater than theirs

They study lines frantically, trying not to make noise…

That’s my cue, I step out onstage

Lights are blinding, I can’t look that way

I focus on who I’m talking to

And don’t realize that I am being focused on

I’ve done this so many times before

Each time I was someone other than myself

They don’t see me, they see…

A mother looking out for her children

Or a child herself, a stereotyped teenager

Even someone crazy, like a hippie or a witch

But they don’t see me

Finally I exit the stage

In a cloud of victory

It’s great being onstage

Because I get to be someone else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Book

 

There is a book, a plain old book

Sitting on a shelf

There is a book, a forgotten book

Talking to itself

There is a book, a special book

But no one’s noticed yet

There is a book, an intriguing book

As good as it can get

For in this book, this unknown book

There are adventures to be had

And in this book, the strangest book

There are people, good and bad

Within this book, if you’d just look

You’d find so many things and places

If you’d just look within this book

You’d learn many new names and faces

There is a book upon a shelf

Sitting talking to itself

Repeating events held deep within

Waiting for someone to begin

To lose himself, and turn the page

Become trapped within a cage

Take half an hour, maybe more

And you’ll know things never known before

Within this book, most special book

There are always different things in store

An open book, in which one looks

Because he isn’t bored anymore.

 

 

 

 

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The Voice of Lindsey Bland

 

The Stars Shone for Me That Night

 

The stars shone for me that night

to guide me on my way

through the darkened desert

so cool and so gray.

 

The stars shone for me that night

while walking through the woods

they shown above the highest trees

hidden under hoods.

 

The stars shone for me that night

through the sparkling snow

a chilling blanket covers the earth

that flies as winds blow.

 

The stars shone for me that night

on the sandy shore

the gold reflection of the moon

helped me even more.

 

The stars shone for me that night

on the mountain peak

shining from the cloudless sky

a moon that looks so bleak

 

The stars will always shine at night

for those to light the way

when the sun sets for the night

until it turns again to day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crouching Tiger

 

Crouching tiger padding through

Darkened jungle crisp and new

 

Stopping by a crystal lake

Peering through the misty wake.

 

A sound is heard above night noises

A trembling cry of animal voices.

 

Muscles bunching under fur

Claws extended, an orange blur

 

Leaping into the dark sky

As if seeing whether he can fly—

 

A lighting on the jungle floor

With a massive, mighty roar.

 

Creatures fleeing here and there

Scurrying for shelter everywhere.

 

The dawn breaking through the night

Takes the tiger into flight

 

To his den that’s tucked away

Till the end of the sun-filled day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Wolf’s Song

 

I come out when the night falls

to sing my eerie song.

 

It is the moon to which I sing.

My voice it enthralls.

 

The night is like the day to me.

It is my waking hour.

 

When the night breaks forth to light,

only then do I cower.

 

Padding through the forest,

on tender paws that know

 

every bend, branch, and bog

under the stars’ faint glow.

 

I’m a shifting, shapeless shadow,

the night through which I creep,

 

back to my den a hidden

the day through which I sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voice of Aly Quick

 

It’s Your Love I Feel

 

I don’t know if you exist,

but still my heart insists

that I can trust you with anything.

Although it’s kind of strange,

I don’t even know your name

but you have always been there for me.

 

And I never feel alone anymore

‘cause you are always on my side.

 

And you take my soul up high

and I feel a love that could never die.

As long as you are near

there’s nothing that I fear,

imagination or for real.

It’s your love that I feel.

 

When I start to go astray

feel I can’t get through the day,

you always manage to pull me through.

A dark night can’t make me blue.

If I only think of you,

The blackest sky will turn to day.

 

And morning sun can bring a new hope

‘Cause you are dwelling in my heart.

 

And you take my soul up high

and  I feel a love that could never die.

As long as you are near

there’s nothing that I fear,

imagination or for real.

It’s your love I feel.

 

You may be in a dream I’ve had

or maybe you’re a hope.

You may be my imagination,

maybe a ghost,

But everyday you’re here with me

forever after true.

I’ll never have to cry again—

I’ll always smile for you.

 

Because you take my soul up high

and I feel a love that would never die.

As long as you are near

there’s nothing that I fear,

not imagination so for real .

It’s your love I feel.

 

When I start to go astray,

feel I can’t get through the day,

you always manage to pull me through.

A dark night can’t make me blue.

If only I think of you,

the blackest sky will turn to day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drowning

 

She walks in perpetual darkness.  Her feet feel as if bolted to a non-existent floor.  Her breath comes in short gasps.  The feeling of ground empties away from her, and for a moment, it seems as if she were going to fall.  But a light appears, and she opens tired eyes to her own bedroom.

 

But still voices sound endlessly in her mind.  “Why did you let it happen?  Why didn’t you stop them?  You could’ve taken his keys.  You could’ve made them stay until they sobered up.  They didn’t have to die.”

 

It is a dream, she keeps thinking, only a dream.  But it isn’t.  She let her friends drive drunk, and now they were gone.  She closes her eyes again, wishing it weren’t real.  But the voices stay; the darkness deepens.  She is drowning in a sea of her own guilt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voice of Anna M. Skidis

 

The Night Before Christmas Eve

 

Twas the night before Christmas Eve, when all through my room,

The television was blaring with an occasional boom.

And me in my cow shirt and funny striped pants,

I turned up my music and began to dance.

When, hark, what should I hear?  Was it footsteps?

I had awakened a father who sounded upset.

He stomped up the stairs, his face turning red,

As I cowered in fear, terror, and dread.

He pounded on my door and began to shout,

While I looked for the fastest possible escape route.

What could I do? Where could I run?

I knew the moments to come would be no fun.

I leaped into bed, covered myself with a sheet,

All except my size seven and a half feet.

The doorknob turned, as if in slow motion

When all of a sudden, I had a strange notion.

I opened my window and prepared to jump.

Wait! What was that? I heard a loud thump.

I looked upward and what should my desperate eyes see?

It was my older sister coming to help me!

She extended her hand, helped me onto the roof,

And I laughed when I saw she was dressed like a goof.

She had her Santa hat on and a funny red skirt;

Both were tattered and torn and covered in dirt.

We shivered and trembled because it was cold.

Oh, how I wished it had never snowed!

I spoke, “Thank you for saving me; boy, am I glad!”

When she smiled and yelled, “I got her, Dad!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rose

 

Swaying gently in the breeze

It moves gracefully with such ease.

Its great beauty always deceives

For the thorns we do not see.

We only look at its beauty

Looking perfect as can be,

But there are the thorns waiting to prick

Waiting patiently for this trick.

But the good it creates makes up for the bad

Makes happiness out of the sad.

The rose has such great poise

Though it’s not still, it makes not noise.

Its wonderful beauty shines.

It’s one of God’s great designs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Pencil’s Song

 

A yellow number two pencil I am.

My owner can draw anything form mountains to Spam.

I wonder what he’ll draw today,

Hopefully something in the color gray.

Maybe a ferret, fish, or fat frog,

Or even a dirty dish or a dog.

 

I hope I don’t run out of lead,

To be sharpened is something that I dread.

Ouch!  He’s using my pink eraser!

This is good, I don’t want to deface her!

When he erases my work, I get depressed,

This work was really some of my best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled

 

When I glance in the mirror, what do I see?

Am I looking at you, or am I looking at me?

You say I’m supposed to be without defect

Is it my fault I wasn’t born perfect?

Why should I end up skipping a meal?

Just so I can appear “ideal”

You nag and nag about what I do

“Don’t let them see the real you!”

I hate to listen to your clouded perception

You shouldn’t listen to the world’s deception

You shouldn’t try and dictate my life

You slash through my self-esteem like a knife

You cut down my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams

Beauty is really not all that it seems

All of this trouble just to achieve perfection

What’s the worst the world can hand me, rejection?

Let them think what they will, do as they please

It’s not their opinions I want to appease

Why should I care what other people think?

I feel myself drowning, starting to sink

Amidst all this lying and all this deceit

All this fakeness and all this defeat

They’ve all let themselves become something they’re not

When truthfully we know they don’t have a lot

They’re all just pretending, acting, faking

Their real selves they are forsaking

Keep in mind, to yourself you must be true

Don’t listen to anyone else but you

 

 

Music

 

A song so soft though it should ne’er be silenced

A sound so precious and powerful to be prolonged

A beat as steady as a hammer

A tune as sweet as honey

It catches you off guard

A grip of iron

It draws you in by your emotions

It’s playing your song

Music is life

Music is forever

 

 

Inspiration

 

Ever notice how whenever you’re around

How much better I try to make myself sound?

The truth is I really admire your talents

But it’s the way you act that throws me off balance

You act as though you don’t deserve the admiration

Maybe that’s why you’re my inspiration

I love how you do the things you do

What is it that makes me want to be just like you?

God has blessed you in so many different ways

I will look up to you for the rest of my days

You have your own special way to make me feel good

You help me like no one else ever could

You keep me going when times get tough

You’re always there for me when things get rough

I thank the Lord for a friend like you

Someone that I can confide in and always talk to

I admire you and all that you’ve ever done

And I’m every bit grateful for the friend that I’ve won

You are truly the most wonderful friend

And I’ll look up to you until the very end

It’s hard to comprehend what I am to you

I can’t believe I’m your inspiration too

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voice of Hannah Goins

 

Lord of All

 

God of wonders

God of light

God of morning and of night,

when we wake in the morning

and praise your name,

and when we lay down at night

and give thanks for the day,

when the light blue skies are filled with

the sun’s rays,

you are a God of mighty wonder and

of might.

You made us in the beginning.

You’ll bring us home in the end

even though we all have sinned.

You love us all just the same

no matter what gender, race, or age

because you truly are …

             Lord of All

 

 

Sunrise

 

     Today as the trials of life they

come.

     Tomorrow there will be a sunrise.

     Yesterday when you couldn’t do anything

but cry.

     Wasn’t there a sunrise to bring

the new day?

     And whenever you’re sad and lonely,

just remember there’s always a sunrise

when you think that there will be a

sunrise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Storm

 

As the loud, obnoxious siren went off, Aubrey and I huddled closer together in the hallway with our dog.  I had a bowl of popcorn by my side along with my sister.  I looked out the window.  It was pitch black with a small patch of green here and there.  Suddenly, mom rushed in the hallway and said just to sit still and pray.  That’s exactly what I did.  I folded sweaty palms and began to pray a small, silent prayer.  Then Dad came in and said to take cover.  Aubrey began to cry.  The sound of a crying baby and an obnoxious siren were not too pleasant.  After a few seconds the sirens went off and we came out of our hiding.  The storm had passed.

 

 

 

 

Lost

 

You called.

I talked.

You said, “I love you.”

I said, “Are you sure?”  pause… “Okay.”

Before I hung up, you said, “I love you.”

I said, “Okay.”

After I hung up, I thought, “What is love really?”

Then the answer came.

I wasn’t ready for love.

The next time you called you said, “I love you.”

Then I said, “You don’t know what love is!”

“Stop playing games with me,” you sounded upset.

I said, “If you’re only in this for love, you can get lost.”

I said, “I can’t go on with this anymore; it must stop.”

I hung up the phone in a rage.

You’ve never called again.

I’ve wanted so many times to call and say I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should or not.

Now I’ve lost you.

I’ve longed for someone to hold me in his arms like you did, but now never again.

I’ve lost you forever.

I’ve tried so many times to forget about you, but your image never leaves my mind.

Now, I’m lost.

I will find you someday, but until that day you’re…still…lost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On The Battlefield

 

It’s a spiritual battle going on

between Heaven and Hell.

Shadows bouncing to and fro

off the walls everywhere we go.

We can’t see them, but we can sense

their presence.

Satan, casting demons around

try to get us off the path

But we say stop it, get behind me, Satan

In the name of God my salvation and help.

And he flees at the sound of our voice.

We’re all suited up in the armor of God.

As we all go our own separate ways.

Only if we trust and believe His name.

For our own battle is not against flesh and

blood, but of the rulers of the darkness

and spiritual forces of evil in heavenly realms

Therefore we need to be prepared to

fight at any time

Out on the battlefield with shrieks and

screams of anguish, of demons and saints fighting for the right

we walk along with God by our side.

This war has not yet ended, so

only God alone knows what

will happen tomorrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Voices of Eva Deterding and Kate Kruta

 

Eva Deterding

 

When all the world is

    on my back, who will

         be there for me?

No one cares too much

     about me. Sometimes

         I feel nothing.                                                   

I don’t care who is

    on my side or who

       will be never there.

I just try to take

   it one day at a

     time, so I live.

All I hope is one

    day soon I can feel

       something again.

Catherine Kruta

 

It takes one day

To destroy so many lives

It takes one day

To change history forever

One day out of many

Why this day?  Why this hour?

Towers forever gone…

We will never see again

One day in infamy

Changed the fate of many

What did they think

As they went to work that day?

What did they feel?

Did they know?  Did they sense?

How could they know

What lay in wait for them?

One day changes a life

Forever.

One day can change

the world

forever

 

Younger Voices

Grade School Creative Writing Contest Winners

 

First Place Short Story

 

            Patches of light shone through the water and illuminated the beds of kelp around me.  I peered through the plants and saw a colorful group of fish swim by.  I checked my oxygen tank;  I had to get back to my boat in a few minutes.  Time seems to pass really fast when you’re swimming in the ocean.  As I turned to swim back to the surface, a flash of light near the sand caught my eye.

            It was a key glittering, half buried in the sand. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand.   There were words engraved on it, but I couldn’t read the language.  I swam up to the surface of the water and quickly climbed in my boat.  I showed the key to my friend, who, like me, is a marine biologist.

            “Where did you find this?”  she asked me.

            “It was in the sand,”  I said.

            “I’ve never seen a language like this before, Angie,” she told me.

            She examined the hey once more and gave it back to me.  Neither of us had any clue what it opened.  I grew curious and had to find out why it had been at the ocean bottom