Welcome to Xpress Plugged In, our new online gallery of student expressions. Please follow the submission instructions CAREFULLY. New work will be posted every Monday.
-- Nancy Green, editor of XPI
For the month of September, Xpress Plugged In will feature a four-part Best Of series. Each week the spotlight will focus on the 10 best pieces of art, photography, writing and 3-D work published in XPI from August 2009 through July 2010. Student grades and schools are based on the date the work was originally submitted.
Soft sighs come from the sky,
Treading lightly through the trees.
She hides behind gossamer clouds of dew,
Silent, while hearts fly,
Hoping to please,
Trying to pursue.
She laughs at the attention,
And steps into the night,
Glowing, beautiful and bright.
She sings to the waves and the water,
To the land and the beasts.
She sings as Earth's daughter,
She sings as she runs from the east.
Marisa Petrick, 11th grade
She slipped the little, red, fragile shoes on. Dorothy stood up with the hope that she'd make it home safely. She tapped her shoes three times, "I'm comin' home Mama," she thought. Little specks of magic swarmed her, and her feet slowly lifted from the ground as if she were a feather -- weightless, delicate and imprinted with a beautiful design -- her shoes.
Dorothy is home, but the question remains, why did she have to slip those red shoes back on in the first place?
Mariah Watts, eighth grade
Bundles of babies,
cart wheeling ladies,
wrappers littering the ground,
nosy what-iffers,
powdered candy sniffers,
Mac-eaters weighing many a pound,
insane hands typing,
lazy mouths griping,
a grill so gold it glows,
International Baccalaureate,
unacceptable chocolate,
quarterly fashion shows,
roach infestations,
portable Playstations,
lightning-fast spreading rumors,
belt-hating males,
a rainbow of veils,
'dain bramage' without tumors,
hair flooded with dyes,
oversized bags under the eyes,
an attempt to teach Chinese,
a man without brows,
fork-stealing sows,
a girl with a hurricane sneeze,
wearers of togas,
gulpers of sodas,
book bags making strides with a limp,
a sky blue floor,
a handle-less door,
a gamer with the mouth of a pimp,
Froot Loops on fire,
low-cut attire,
enough pizza to feed a nation,
cars with huge rims,
caps without brims,
a particularly prim Asian,
deadly burritos,
hackey-sacking emos,
pooping in pants while cryin',
underscored editors,
athletic predators,
and a teacher with the heart of a lion.
Quesly Daniel, 12th grade
In those weekends at Ocala,
On the farm where papa learned life,
I found a cat with sunset eyes,
only for mama to shove it out the door
of the pale blue minivan before we headed home.
I found an orange tree that was never ripe,
and a pile of sand that resided close to manure.
I found an old chicken coop my father built
and a greenhouse, where, before granddaddy was sick --
before I was alive -- he cultivated the greatest flowers
in the tri-county area.
I lost a pair of socks there, on that farm, but found the sensation
of sweet country grass between my toes.
I found the taste of water never purified by chemicals:
tangy and bitter and fresh.
I found the sound of my father's childhood;
of learning how to get by on almost nothing,
and I found pride in quiet papa, who could leave
Poverty with his head held high and find Prosperity.
I found the taste of goodbye -- and it was an awful taste --
when the sun would set on horses grazing,
and papa would wait in the car while I found
the courage to hug the man,
who wheezed and faltered with every step,
who was the reason we came at all.
Kennis Lora Dees, 12th grade
A realization made too late
Another shattered wish, one more meaningless date
That alone is enough to drown in
the pain of my rebellion, the residual sin
Now, you tell me more of what you do
all that I sensed, yet a bit more, too
a slap to the face and ...
in a way, we've both fallen from grace
The ache of a thousand oaths, welling
forming tears in my eyes, my mind dwelling
on the history between you and me
adding to and filling a dark sea.
The sky wields words of scorn to send down;
I hear and play the part of a clown:
hiding my sorrow to hide your mistake
playing the ignorant so your favor I'll make.
So it goes,
death, struggling with life, the two forever foes.
You were the instrument, I played the part;
I knew all along pain would result for my heart.
Tonight, as solemn as a Treblinka Jew
Tonight, I swallow my tongue for you.
Kristen Wegner, ninth grade
Tortoise
Walking slowly
Hard shell is knight's armor
Coyote! Head goes into shell
Coward
Lilia Jade Watson, fourth grade
I always thought of us
As chocolate and vanilla.
You were bigger, better
More talented, more loved.
I was smaller, insecure,
An introvert, a coward.
You walked around
Like you owned the place
And I wallowed
In your shadow.
Like chocolate and vanilla.
I wanted to be you
I wanted to live your life
For just one day
Until you told me
How jealous you were
Of me
Of little old me,
Wildly self-conscious
And always feeling
Out of place.
I was vanilla, you were chocolate.
You told me you loved me
You loved the way I was
You assured me that I was special
I was different
I deserved to be secure
And in that instant
I realized
That while many prefer chocolate
Others prefer vanilla.
I was special
I could be myself
And in that instant
I took a giant leap out of your shadow
I hopped to your side, and we both laughed
And I walked in the sunlight
For the first time in ages.
Jade KlosGardner, eighth grade
I wish we had a cherry tree in our backyard.
In June, I would lie on my back under its slender branches
and wait 'til the first fruit came falling down.
The blossoms would twirl in the air
and intoxicate my senses.
I would pretend I was a cherry tree myself,
Place pretty pink flowers in my hair,
Make earrings out of cherries,
Twirl around and look beautiful all day,
Smile to the little kids playing in my shade.
The cherry tree and me, we're the same.
We dance to the same music,
We dig our feet in when the wind blows,
We raise our arms to reach for the sun,
We even know a few words in Japanese.
I hear that in Australia
Cherry trees bloom for Christmas.
Pink snow! That's it, when I grow up
I want to be an Australian Cherry Tree
And my name will be
Cherrylotte
Charlotte Samson, seventh grade
I am from a place where they always say love is the answer
Where lovers come and go, but friends are forever
Where life comes before death
The inevitable facts that cannot be avoided.
I am from a place that dreams and cherishes
Where our passions come alive
Where the light just shines
And the beauty in ourselves comes to life.
I am from a place that's holy and glorious
Where I can look up and smile
Where the peace is in reach
The other side is always near.
I am from a place that has always had potential
Where things could change and turn beautiful
Where everything could just live and love safely,
But sometimes you can only dream of such things.
I am also from a cold and dark place
Where the lights go out inside
Where the passion dies
And the flesh of men rules again.
I am from a place where there is no mercy
Where the crimson shines bright
Where the hearts are dead
And the pain is suffering.
I am from a place that can't be saved
Where it is doomed to just end
Where some forge the death before their time
And the bodies pile up.
I am from a place where fornication and pornography is cool
Where you decide to have fun, but kill the consequences in the end
Where sex is no object, but is treated like one
And the small precious life that is made is unwanted.
I am from a place that comes with heartbreak
Where he says he loves you, only to break you
Where you look up to the heavens and ask, why?
The death collector can only be close by.
But I am also from a place where there is hope
Where that one person, thing, or the unseen, can make your day
Where loved ones come before friends
And life goes on.
I am from a place where you can get joy from life
Where you have protection against the things that kill, steal and destroy
Where beauty of one reigns
And the love can always be restored.
Danielle Hopkins, 10th grade
The buzzing of a bee
The tinkling of sleigh bells
The falling of snow on people below
A giraffe munching leaves
The tiny hummingbird's wings
The erupting of a volcano
The first clap of thunder
A meteor hitting earth making a huge explosion
The roar of a lion
The "pop" of fireworks
Meara Corbett-O'Connor, third grade