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CAROLINA FRIENDS SCHOOL The Digital Lit Mag

Creative Thoughts from Middle School Minds 2011-12

Are you ready for an exciting yea r? The digital lit mag includes poem s, photography, art, and more!

Lit mag staff: Hadiyah Omar, Henry Spuria, James DePolo, Kaydi Zembow, Shafe Selvidge, Tyler French, Victoria Cruell, Zoe Scretchings.


9/11 On that one fateful day, Al Qaeda

9/11 Never Forgotten

terrorists went out to hijack 4 planes. One of them hit the North tower. People were crying and screaming, not knowing what to do. Soon after, the South tower had been hit. Another plane hit the the Pentagon. The fourth plane was also going to Washington, D.C. Some people believe they were heading for the White House or the Capitol Building. The passengers found out what was happening, and they managed to overthrow the hijackers and crash the plane into a field in Pennsylvania. Both towers fell, but only 16 people survived. Many people that day risked their lives and died heroes.

Zoe Scretchings September  12,  2001

NUMBERS

Tuesday, September  11,  2001 A  gorgeous  day  with  blue  skies  and  a  bright  sun In  New  York  people  were  walking  with  smiles  lit Soon  before  the  North  Tower  would  be  hit BOOM!  People  were  running  all  over  the  place It’s  no  Ime  for  rhyming,  let’s  cut  to  the  chase Confusion,  fright,  emoIons  were  running  wild Fireman  were  sent  out  to  help  people  in  need BOOM!  The  South  Tower’s  been  hit! The  firemen  got  busy,  they  put  the  fire  out But  this  parIcular  job  was  harder  than  they  thought An  hour  later  the  South  Tower  fell  down ALL  the  way  down  to  the  ground By  now  they  discovered  this  was  no  mistake 4  planes  had  been  hijacked,  it  was  a  terrorist  aPack This  just  in,  the  North  Tower  has  fallen  down ALL  the  way  down  to  the  ground This  is  for  the  brave  souls The  people  who  had  to  make  the  decision  to  burn  or  to  jump The  people  who  had  to  tell  their  kids, “Daddy’s  not  coming  home.” The  legacy  of  9/11  is  not  to  grieve  for  the  loss But  to  remember  the  heroes  who  risked  and  gave  their  lives   for  other  people

People who died

2,998 Firemen who died

343 Survivors when the towers fell

16


the way in, and the way out every middle schooler has a double challenge: first, to be unique and to appreciate all that makes one special, and second to be connected to others and to appreciate the sameness at the heart of all of us, what gives shape can make us uncomfortable the skin that surrounds us, the essence within us, can feel like the first draft of work, as we feel each flaw as a mistake that draws the myopic eye, whereas there’s that of creation in that draft and we should honor how far it goes toward what can be true, the first step out from possibility into the actual is always worthy of awe, who we are at our heart does not want to stay alone, and every step we make that is of a true connection pulls us toward the other to make a whole larger than the sum of parts, the young work their souls hard in this daunting challenge, all of us should honor the way in to ourselves and the way out to others with the substance our lives.

by Henry H. Walker October 8, ’11


POEMS...

Layout and photography by: Victoria C.

Poem by: Natasja Brezenski

For those who write their music, dare dream for seas who sail by stars, and dance on every breeze, for those who live life, for those who write their music

1


P

Like a

O

E

T

R

Y

DIAMOND B Y: S E L E N A FA I T H

I feel it all rush up the anger and the pain my vision blurs as a little drop of water falls to the floor like a diamond shattering apart I sit and let the tears fall from my eyes and they all shatter apart as they hit the floor and new diamonds rise up and start falling too

Layout by: Victoria Cruell


POEMS by selena

My feet splash into the water and the sand slush splatters against my ankles the ocean spay flies into the air and lights up as it shines in front of the sun my legs move faster and faster with each lunge farther and farther i stop and the waves splash against my legs as i look into the ocean and i start believing layout by henry spuria

[1]

look at some other poems on the website


O, L L E H O L YE L B D HE O O G E Y B GOOD t last I am here a as passed the time h r good I’m here fo stood so strong I as blown the wind h grown and I have er now I’m strong w how I don’t kno ere but life is h dear and I know hard that life is u’ll stay just say yo Go fly away y into the sk

say it’s time to odbye goodbye go

Photography and layout by: Victoria Cruell

ith a F a n le e S : y b Poem


My dogs are so much fun They greet me at that door and walk me out before I leave When I am home they sit on my lap and chase toys Sometime they’re bad and they chew up my shoes or eat off the table, But they are still so much fun Woof Woof


By Ben  Alexander   Layout  by  James  DePolo   the  black  cat   sleek                                        powerful,   and  clever   my  friend  who  I  loved   and  who  though  he  couldn’t  talk   I  felt  like  I  could  read  what  he  was  trying  to  tell  me   every  day     I  went  to  see  him     until   one  day     he  wasn’t  there   why  I  asked,  they  said  he  was  gone,   why  I  asked  again  they  said  he  was  dead.        


SPOT By Liam Searles-Bohs I feel like I始ve been sitting here for years Face-down, can始t move Or else he might see me What is this near my nose? It has the consistency of dried applesauce or crusty milk. Elmer始s glue on my floppy ear The two little round spots on my side which I始m named after Ooop! Up I go, thrown high in the air And then down like a rock. His gentle hands catch me and then drop me onto the bed, destined to lie here for another year.


A best friend someone to tell anything at all to trust and to care for the best thing that you could ever have, a dog

By Anonymous Layout by Kaydi


POEMS by jackson cecil

poem from writing quest!

the smell of a new rain fills the air voices sound but nature takes over once more crickets and birds compete for loudest song of the morning bringing the sun out in all its glory the canopy blocking it out like blinders on a horse the water trickles scilantantly in the stream as an assasian would creep up on prey a new call brakes through the high pitched hum of the incekts the sun pieces the clouds like a fang through skin blinding me

[1]


Drawing by: Nora Martin

Clear skies on a silent day. A magical garden just waiting for someone to open the gates– open the gate to an alternate universe. A place where imagination is the key. Poem, photography and layout by: Victoria Cruell


Flying Carp By Seth Lee

A flying Carp In the sky I’m hoping he Will do a dive

In the water From up high With a splash It almost died

Layout by Shafe


By Enjay   Layout  by  James  DePolo     She  has  a  place  in  many  hearts   But  I’m  afraid  she’s  out  of  aces   And  is  stuck  with  the  wrong  cars   And  everyday  sees  the  wrong  faces       Many  street  songs  are  dedicated  to  her  name   Shouting  for  her  to  never  change  and  to  always  stay  the  same       A  daughter  of  the  streets     Her  heart  losing  its  heat   But  to  me  she  means  everything   And  I’ve  always  got  her  back       She’s  always  been  loyal   And  these  are  all  facts   She’s  loyal  even  if  your  dumb  or  smart   And  I’ll  always  be  loyal,  Copenhagen  you’re  my  heart!  


The Redwood  Forest   By  Zoe  Lindsey-­‐Mills   Layout  by  James  DePolo  

There was  only  one  way  and  that  was  up   Higher  and  higher  until  out  of  sight   We  hiked  and  hoped  over  zig  zaged  routes   There  was  one  that  was  so  big  we  climbed  right  inside   It  was  so  beautiful  there  was  only  peace  and  nothing  but  silence  


TIME time is fast or slow

you have got to accept it tick tock goes the clock

Type to enter text

Poem and photo by Kaydi H. Zembow


Try by Fiona Lane ______________ There are only so many ways I can try, try to show you, show you who I am, because I am afraid. There are only so many times I can try, try to tell you, tell you I am afraid, because I am who I am.

Drawing by Kaydi Zembow


Whispers I am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  waves, the  murmurs  heard  by  the  hills,  standing  forever, listening  forever. I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  woods, slowly  remembering  the  things  said  long  ago. I  am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  rivers, the  murmurs  heard  by  the  valleys,  sinking  forever, listening  forever I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  birds, slowly  remembering  things  said  long  ago. I  am  the  whispers  picked  up  by  the  waterfall the  murmurs  heard  by  the  mountains,  ruling  forever, listening  forever. I  am  the  voices  recalled  by  the  butter<lies, slowly  remembering  the  things  said  long  ago.


Swan Lake Poem By Georgia Fabec Layout By Zoe Scretchings

I remember  the  time  I  played  Swan  lake I was the princess the star Beauty! I was the one the shined over everyone in the town With my gleaming eyes and grace everyone wanted to be me... I would always find the secrets beneath I was the mighty swan! BECAUSE THAT IS WHOM I WANTED TO BE!


Blissful Illiteracy Poem by:

kcalb elttil esoht lla ta kooL

Liam Searles-Bohs

Look at all those little black squiggles Some day I’d like to learn how to decode them

selggiuqs

But for now all I need is the pictures

ot woh nrael ot ekil d’I yad emoS Without looking at the words

meht edoced

I know exactly what’s happening

serutcip eht si deen I lla won rof tuB

Sometimes I will be read to,

But I like looking just as much.

The words are dry cereal flakes

sdrow eht ta gnikool tuohtiW

And the pictures succulent, sugar-covered raisins Dripping in the milky white of the page.

gnineppah s’tahw yltca xe wonk I

When I see only words I sail by without even looking but then I turn the page and find a full page picture,

,ot daer eb lliw I semitemoS

like finding an island paradise after sailing by only desolate and uninhabited islands.

.hcum sa tsuj gnikool ekil I tuB I still feel very similarly. Looking back sometimes I still feel the letters are like little black ants marching across the page taking the color from a beautiful picnic.

Layout and photography by Victoria Cruell

sekalf laerec yrd era sdrow ehT


Digital Lit Mag Staff Profiles By: James DePolo

Jim

Tyler James Victoria Zoe

Henry

Shafe

Kaydi

Hadiyah

MS LIT MAG 11.VOL 1  

CFS MS students writing

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