Archive Art and Poems

2006 - 2019 / Back to Archive Menu

ARTWORK:

   

Rebecca Boone

Xiangyao Daun
 

Jordan Futrick

Jordan Futrick

Jordan Futrick

Mark Frederick

Mark Frederick

Mark Frederick

Ashley Bowmaster

Kylea Myers

Meghan Renee Delsite

Tabitha Restauri

Steven Douglass

Ethan Knepp


Tanya Daher


Amanda Williamson

Danielle Blatt


Allyssa Ambroise


Megan Stewart

Brittany Ayers

Edie Snyder

Tierra Smay

Ryan McGraw


Rachel Beck


Rodger Holsinger

Eleni LeVan

Megan Riner

Ashley Farley


Manya Blackson

 

Short Story:

Brickstone by Akeesha Williams
Falling by Shannon Williams
A Deeper Blue by Kaleigh Cook
7 Seconds
by Nick Dill
Flight Custodian by Marie Weaverling

Critical Analysis:

"Northrop Frye Meets Kendrick Lamar: The Four Phases of Frye's Monomyth Applied to a Rap Album" by Susana Spradling

POEMS:

Eating My Pierogi by Marie Weaverling
White Leaf by Marie Weaverling
Natural Disaster by John Dibert
Maybe by John Dibert
Moves in Space by Akeesha Williams
Love's Cruel Flame by: John Dibert
Space Weather by: John Dibert
The Day I Die by: John Dibert
The Bread and the Knife by: Joey Balawajder
Ladies
by Imani Wilkins
Bliss by Amanda Williamson
A Quiet Scene in a Dark Forest by Jamie Tyson
Cartooning by Jamie Tyson
Writing Race by Jamie Tyson
The Editor by Erin D'arcy
I knew a boy by Samantha Fulare
The Faux Sober by Jamie Tyson
Blood of the Behemoth by Jamie Tyson
The Church by Jamie Tyson
The Broken Toy Soldier by Jamie Tyson
The Average Gatsby by Jamie Tyson
Floral Print by Jamie Tyson
Gluttony
by Eleni LeVan
Serrated Edge by Eleni LeVan
Too Many Thoughts by Eleni LeVan
Mirror, Mirror by Ashley Farley
Child by Vincent Sbarra
Sleep Easy by Vincent Sbarra
The Puzzle by Vincent Sbarra
Mirror Mirror by Ashley Farley
Crush by Ashley Farley
The Cast by Ashley Kendle
Certain Uncertainty
by Shawn Christ
Dream of America by Shawn Christ
Far Beyond the Point by Shawn Christ
The Poet's Love by Shawn Christ
The Way the Sun Used to Shine by Shawn Christ

Thompson Run in the Summer
By: Josh Sterling

Running at the speed of those eager summer bees
my friends and I race along the ancient sidewalks
of Hydetown's only real street
to the bridge over Thompson Run.
We slide and tumble like reckless stones
from the end of the masonry span
down the dirt path we had forged last year.
Toward the water.
Our tired, worn shoes show their age this year.
Our "Crickin' Shoes".
After repairing our old, stone dam,
we begin our hunt: The recruitment
of this day's combatants.
My crayfish is a champion-to-be.
His claws are vices of death.
The circular battle pit is dug where water meets shore.
Like ants on a drop of soda we huddle around.

Our tanning backs absorb the sun's excited gaze.


Chamomile Tea
By: Christina Seymour

tastes like mildew
on a campfire twig,
blackened with soot
and seething heat—fire
toasts petals to husks.
Drops of lemon

temper the toadstool-must,
but crisping,
wilting husks
stick airlessly
to gums and wet teeth.


Skyscraper
By: Quinten Fletcher

clink – “that’s seven!” – clink, clink – “eight, nine!”

when the roof was still red
our two families would converge
on Pizza Hut at lunchtime,
where our mothers bought tickets
that our fathers had earned,
tickets granting unlimited access
to a buffet teeming with pizza,
thick- and thin-crusted, pumping off steam
like the paper mill near my house,
slices divided in the pattern of the spokes
on the wheels of my bike,
and cinnamon-encrusted breadsticks,
which we double-dipped in pasty icing.
my friend and I, close as two sides
of a fastened zipper, would savor
the banquet with our eyes,
saliva pooling, stomachs begging.

clink, clink, clink – “we’re up to eighteen!” “keep eating!”

laughter saturating the air around us
like the cigarette smoke on the other side
of the restaurant, we became builders,
erecting a tower of dishware, which rose,
plate by plate, clink by clink, toward heaven,
a modern-day Babel.  After the thirtieth story,
building became a struggle,
stomachs distended like overfilled balloons.
building codes were strictly enforced:
one slice or breadstick per plate.

clink – “thirty-seven!” “we have to get to forty!”

sometimes a well-meaning waitress,
alarmed by the height of our skyscraper,
would reach purposefully across our table
and be frozen by a cacophony
of icy shouts.
our greatest hour of gluttony resulted in
a masterpiece forty-five stories high,
proudly gleaming in sauce-smeared glory.
my friend captured a picture of the tower,
though its image was inscribed into our memories.

Circumstance has unzipped us.  When we meet,
silence stretches into years,
and our gazes refuse to connect,
like the negative sides of two magnets –
but mention plate-stacking, and we laugh
like boys again, unburdened by grievances,
and for a moment there is nothing but the past –

clink, clink

for a moment we are friends.


Love: Neat
            Pure; unadulterated; undiluted
By: Marjorie Laydon

Slackened atmosphere of the dinner crowd seeps into the clack of my flats.

Thin, lipless glass—a wide bowl of velvet amber swivels.

Full-bodied, warm, the glistening warning—say hello.

One swirling fingertip, lazy lip captured by teeth.

Hosed toe gathers shadow exploring slack's underbelly.

Ragged inhale, downcast eyes—glimpses of the bare brush of eyelet lace.

Rings of glasses—a parting kiss in the plush carpet.

Slender insteps, trails from cuff links to black frills.

Sucking sounds, mouth at the crooks of elbows and knees.

Honey and salt—like squirming ants in my navel.

Effervescent subtlety of bubbles, silk, and the remains of pure endlessness.

Daybreak's teeth piffle the frosted panes.

A lingering dream—love neatly displaced.


An Adult Lullaby
By: Marjorie Laydon

I want to be the fat peach
you eat under the 4th of July sky—
a pink, dusky sweep—
my skin tight, pried

open, tiny blond hairs
split wide, my juices
sweat down your lips, too careless,
too sweet—keep gouging the looseness—

make your way across me—
pluck my pit, my fickle fullness,
suck my ridged redness, allow my top leaf
to flutter, to fly high, bottomless,

too close this heat,
my desert-skin blushes—
your fingers pinching, pulling deep,
close enough to crush.

 

"Ultimatum" by Gina Zappia

Do you not know what you do to me?
Do I have to write this down because it means so much to me?
Do I have to write this down because you race through my mind all day and all night?

Would I have you in my bed if I didn’t love you?
Would I talk to you for hours on end if I didn’t love you?
Would you think I wouldn’t love you if you were depressed and poor?

Could I answer that question for you now?
I had so many emotions pent up inside, I had you racing through my mind
I had trouble concentrating, I felt like I was going crazy
Why would I think of you so much?
I just need to clarify things for you.
I wonder to myself, how could you think I don’t love you by now?

You are not just a boy that I need by my side.
You are not just a toy that I want to play with for now.
You are not just something that I want there.
You are something that I really care about.

And if you do not recognize this by this day forward.
Then you are not the one that I can love.

You are not the one that can pull me through.
You are not the supportive one that I need.
Just someone I can be a friend to.

I do not want my heartbroken
I just want to clarify my feelings with you.
And if we cannot agree that we feel the same way.
Then, I am not the one for you.

 

"Snap" by Fran Flaherty

The shutter closes
Snap
A second in time is caught
The sight of a wave about to smash on the beach
Snap
A moment frozen for all to see
A hummingbird in flight, wings held still, colors a glow
Snap
A memory in solid form, to hold dear when memories fade away
A father’s face, a mother’s smile, a grandmother’s tear
Snap
A soul is caught and held
Faces haunt the eyes, centuries after death
Snap
Horror, terror, fear are embodied
Bodies cover the ground after battle. Buildings fall in slow motion
Snap
No denying, No lying; only truth shows up in the lens
Snap
Time, moments, seconds, memories, emotions slide through the kaleidoscope
Snap, Snap, Snap


Art by Courtney Wentz

Art by Meghan Wise

    Submitted by Matt Robertson

   


 Submitted by Joel Quiggle  

             
                    Title: "Hell"                               Title: "Rapture"                 
 


    Submitted by DJ Rossman
 


 

 
 


Submitted by Todd Bennett

 


Patty’s Little Helpers: Billy’s Little Friends

Up early in the morning heading off to work
Billy says “see you later, help mommy cook the pork”
Patty zips through the morning, kids are off at school
She tours the mall, everything is looking really cool
Heads for the market, trying to remember
What she’s there for, oh yea – pork
She hopes it will be tender
He doesn’t ask for much
Why does that red light
Look like a strange kaleidoscope
Guess we must be getting low on diet pills
Got to stop at the doctors to get some refills
Meanwhile Billy is slinging iron and steel
That’s burning up his skin
He runs it up the building
Heads down and up again
Wondering why? The other guys
Are slowing down so soon
It isn’t even noon
Five more hours here in the sun
A two hour drive home
It is so damn much fun
Sure hope Patty picked up
The kids and the pills
I’ve got to get home
Cut the grass, pull the weeds
Sure hope the pork is tender

By: Patricia Geis


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Dreamscapes: Hidden Light

Gateway to Eden

The sirens are wailing
Oh how I hate that noise
Someone has been hurt
I feel their pain
Somehow, it is more vivid
I wipe the sweat from my brow
The sweat is bright red
The pain subsides
The sirens are silent
My family weeps
There are beautiful flowers
They smell so sweet
I see a bridge
I cross over it
My mother, son and daughter
Meet me on the other side
They take my hands and say
“We will walk with you
The rest of the way”
In the distance I see
Nana, dad, my grandparents,
Sister, aunts, uncles,
Cousins and friends,
Who I have missed
They all look so beautiful
I look back
I can no longer see
The bridge I just crossed
I want to tell the others
Who I have left behind
“Please don’t cry for me
We will meet again someday
At the Gateway to Eden”

By: Patricia Geis


On the Back of a Photograph
by Joseph Lockard
 

Blue scripted motherly letters
meaning so much.
          Centerfold,
grabbing the onlooker in years future.

White encompass its world
trapping Kodak,
Do not copy.

A 3x5 universe tells a mini tale,
encapsulating the past on its back.

          Name
          Age
          School year
          Date

 


Smokey cafe.  
by Larissa R. Goodman

Cigarettes free floating in mid air...
jazzy notes echoed in background noises.
it's silent as if one is listening to rain
thats when you step on stage...
and your silhouette caught my eye.
heart racing but i'm fine.
your words traveled around the room
but it was felt most in my mind
still in deep thought
counting each breath as you talk.
interrupted by cool snapping
and yet still...lost in your illusion.
Did they feel what I felt in me?
Your image disappeared
and I slowly sipped my tea,
while I replayed your poem,
dedicated to me.
 


The Return
by Valerie Lute 

The first thing I noticed
when I entered the door
was the prevalent scent,
country apple and spice,
I had never noticed before.
 

The rooms had changed sizes
while I was away,
now bigger and emptier
and brighter although,
as the rooms had got lighter
the wood cupboards had darkened
into the rich color
of a black cup of coffee
so deep that I'm sure
if I had stared into one
I would have been lost
and never returned.
 
The bathroom's sponge painted spots
had got up and moved
like they had held a square dance
and just do-sa-doed
but halted right where they were
when I entered the room,
all mixed up
but not knowing what else to do.

The only constant
was the tiny closet space
that now seemed unfamiliar
like I had only seen it once
in a dream a long time before
but completely forgotten
until I had opened the door.
I blow around like a ghost
in this strange house
that as it entices,
cannot keep me in the door.


I Don't Know
by Marissa Carney

"I don't know" has infiltrated every part
of me, taken over, folded itself into the cracks in my brain
filmed my eyes and
wrapped itself around my tongue

Automatic answers
to flashcard questions
            How do you feel
                        I don't know
            What do you feel
                        I don't know
a thoughtless response
that keeps me safe

"I don't know" is the gray area, my home base,
the bay compared to the ocean

I'm afraid to meet the waves
    


My Love is Simple....
by Marissa Carney

I tell you I love you
          but you don't have to wear that like chains around         
                     your wrists,
          it doesn't tie you to me,
          it's not something you need to break free from.
          it's not a weapon.

Loving you
          doesn't mean you have to love me back but
          it doesn't mean you can't. 
          it doesn't make you an icon to worship
          or a standard of perfection to uphold.   

I say I love you
          and that's all it means
          purely, wholly, simply
          it's that easy.


The girl without a face
by Sam Yeager

 I want to get inside myself.
Find the map to a better tomorrow
and pull out my true identity
like a butterfly breaking through the cocoon,
then fluttering its wings,
learning to soar past the desolate areas of dreams,
reveal the beauty I can become.
If only one could hear
the whisper of my wings,
Listen to my call for amity

It's a torturous fate,
to be a prisoner of my own desires.
Lost in the thoughts
that cloud my judgment.
Unable to see the next sunny day.
Wondering,
when the day comes
to take my last breath,
will I finally find my face?

I'm the girl without a face.
This is the mask of the unknown.
You can't see the reality of my existence.
I'm just another face to you.
You didn't care enough to notice
that I'm the girl without a face.

There's so much more to me.
Beneath this meaningless figure,
I long for someone to listen,
to realize I have something to say
and need more than a pathetic walk by
without a second thought
that I could be worth it,
more than a glance,
a stare straight through me.
If only you would try.
Open your eyes to more than what you see,
and find me, waiting
or forever loose me to the forlorn.

Won't anyone notice
there is something about me
that just doesn't seem right,
that I could be better than you think
and let me know I'm not forgotten.
Let this be the last night I'm invisible.

Don't talk to me one on one,
then forget I'm next to you
once there's more than us.
Give me the time of my life for once
then ignore me looking at you if you wish,
at least I'll have my one good day.
Not asking for commitment,
Just a chance for a better tomorrow.
Let the possibility be known,
so that this feeling of loneliness will fade.
Just a day of recognition is all I ask.
A simple moment of acceptance.
Give me hope to let me know
That I'll wake up on the other side of things
And have a better tomorrow.


Losing Control
by Sam Yeager

There's something wrong with us...
Seems like we've always had something wrong
We didn't start for the right reasons
We didn't stay for the right reasons
And I feel like leaving for what seems like the wrong reasons.
 

Worried,
too much is working against us
I'm crumbling under the pressure
Not sure if I can take it
We've been through so much
Handled ourselves alright
But how much longer can we go on like this?

Contemplation,
Between desire and logic.
Caught up in the emotions.
Mixed up instructions,
leading me in opposite directions.
confusing one path with another;
unsure where to go next.
so often I'm lost in my thoughts,
wondering what is right and what is wrong,
which will lead me to the utmost happiness.

uncertainty seems to be the enemy
loosing me in my dreams
wishing I could find the right ones
and see the door to open next
endless possibilities
pile up in my lap
cluttering my mind
loosing control of myself
impulses driving my actions
whims taking over
before calculated approaches can be configured
logical decisions to be made
but there's no time
no more room to decide
too much in the way
blocking my entrance into tranquility

I've lost myself under the pressure
Loosing grip of reality
And falling into despair


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