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Hannah Lauster

Laurel Loop 2009-2010


Laurel Loop _

Laurel Middle School’s Art & Literary Magazine Volume 2 Issue 1 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A Note to the Reader ________________________________________________________

We sincerely hope you enjoy reading our magazine. Thanks to all the students who submitted their wonderful work. You were truly inspiring. President Abraham Lincoln once said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” We have found this to be very true—a magazine can’t go anywhere without its staples! Furthermore, the magazine wouldn’t have been possible without students and editors uniting to create it. Enjoy this edition of Laurel Loop! The Editors Grace Cowan Sabrina Downey Erin Dyke Maria Mayer Elizabeth Murphy Lillian Ostrander Kaleigh Shupp Katie Weimann Faculty Advisors

May 2010 2

Taraneh Tabib-Azar

Christina Stanek Kaye Ford


Table of Contents Front Cover Illustration by Hannah Lauster Back Cover Illustration by Isabel Friedman “Baggage” by Faith Sanders……………………………………………….……….4 “Pow” by Maris Hammerman…………………………………………………….5 “Tropical Beach!” by Abigail Reese…………………………………………….6 Untitled photography by Erin Dyke……………………………………………7 “Dolphin Article” by Abby Marks………………………………………………7 “Ski Racing” by Sophie Cochran………………………………………………...8 “Rainbow” by Sloane Hammerman and Anna Zipp.…………………….9 Re-envisioning Greek Deities by Hannah Patacca...…………………….10 “Poseidon: Lord of the Sea” by Kelsey Jones………..…………………….11 “Spring and Winter” by Sabrina Downey…..………………………………12 Untitled by Liz Kuntz……………………………………………………………….13 “Spring” by Grace Murray………………………………………………………..14 “Modern Apollo” by Lillian Knothe……………………………………………15 Untitled by Ellie Durdle……………………………………………………………16 Untitled photograph by Erin Dyke…………………………………………….17 Untitled by anonymous…………………………………………………………….18 “Sweet Dreams” by Brennan McCray………………………………………..19 Untitled by Mimi Thompson……………………………………………………20 “Christmas” by Sara Hull and Abby Marks……………………………….21 “North” by Lillian Ostrander…………………………………………………….21 Untitled by Maris Hammerman………………………………………………..22 Untitled by India Cora……………………………………………………………...23 “The Season Girls” by anonymous…………………………………………….24 Untitled by Sophie Ruttenberg………………………………………………….26 “I Exclude Gertrude” by Sloane Hammerman……………………………27 “War” by Dylan Hoffman………………………………………………………..28 “Spring and Winter” by Brennan McCray…………………………………29 “Bubba’s Story” by ShelLynn Beasley………………………………………..30 Runners-Up for Cover Contest: Hannah Preston, Maris Hammerman, Grace Rundelli, Hannah Wakefield, Julia Warner– Corcoran, Olivia Shao……………………………….31 3


A Note to the Reader: This poem is a fictional piece from the point of view of an orphan.

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By Maris Hammerman

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Tropical Beach! I read my book under the shade I think wow I have it made Just feel the warm breeze As it blows through the palm trees My toes touch the cool sand On a warm tropical island I can relax‌ Making a sand castle With no hassle I take an afternoon snooze And forget about the winter blues As the day comes to an end I watch the sunset I think of all the wonderful people I have met!

By Abigail Reese

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Dolphin Article While I was swimming, I stumbled upon a feral dolphin. I shrieked very loudly, and my face creased. It started to swim away. I was very curious about the dolphin, so I grasped on to its fluke. It carried me away. As the dolphin went under the water, I heard a sound like the sea was humming. I thought it sounded so beautiful. Then I looked up, and I saw a man inflating a balloon for a little girl. Then I looked down, and I saw a book. So I let go of the dolphin, and I read the margin of the book. It said “Dolphins by Staff Members of Sea World.” Then I realized I was at Sea World. I wanted to find out why this dolphin was here; then I remembered that once my curiosity almost got my leg amputated when I went into a bear cave. I was about to leave, but then I heard a voice saying, “Elmo, show your pattern of doing a good job— jump and grab the treat.” As the voice echoed in my ears, the dolphin jumped out of the water and grabbed the treat with its mouth and went back to the water. Then I realized that this dolphin wasn’t feral. It was a dolphin at Sea World, and its name was Elmo. I remembered that dolphins in captivity don’t last as long as dolphins not in captivity. So I swam, and I unlocked the gate of his cage. He swam to the unlocked gate and went out—but it nudged me first. I thought it would lick me for a “thank you,” but I still enjoyed it. The next day at school I told this story in my favorite subject. By Abby Marks

By Erin Dyke 7


Ski Racing

Racing down the slope The cold wind blows my face Skis carve around gates

Snow flakes on my nose The only thing you see is white Skiing down I go

By Sophie Cochran

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By Sloane Hammerman and Anna Zipp

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By Hannah Patacca 10


By Kelsey Jones

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Spring and Winter Oh, look outside and, I pray thee, Tell me what it is you see. For we are at the Lingering now, Before young Spring makes grim winter bow. Sun breaks through clouds of Charcoal gray, His very presence drives the feel of Winter away. Instead of icy, soft and cold, They sparkle like heaps of diamonds, these banks of snow. They look as hard as crystal glass Hiding gentle, clean spring grass. Bare trees stand against the snow Their shadows upon the ground they throw. May flowers will soon bloom upon their branches, Pretty blooms, they take their chances, With the freezing winter wind. That wind-oh wind! The cruel, bitter wind! Round and round it makes us spin, It whips our hair around our faces, Brings tears to our eyes; quickens our paces Back toward our favorite placesToward home, with all its warmth and comforts.

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Into our houses the wind creeps and blows Rattling icicles and kicking up snow With spinning bounds and quick little leaps Through our winter coats it creeps. Our white fingers and toes it freezes, But Spring comes soon with gentle breezes, And Winter soon shall say goodbye. Spring, oh Spring! When wilt though come? Bringing ferns hung with silvery spider webs spun And bubbling brooks and gurgling springs, Existing for the children’s playful means. Emerald grass hiding chocolate Easter treats, Special eggs-planted by a bunny, instead of hens. Winter still maintains his grip upon the world, But with our sighs, we onward spur Sweet beautiful gentle Spring Who soon shall conquer the winter wind.

-Sabrina K. Downey


By Liz Kuntz 13


By Grace Murray

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Modern

By Lillian Knothe

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By Ellie Durdle 16


By Erin Dyke

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Anonymous

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By Brennan McCray

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By Mimi Thompson

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Christmas Christmas Trees Holly Rudolph Icicles Santa Claus Toys Mistletoe Angels Sleigh Sara Hull and Abby Marks

North A fresh layer of snow Glistens, Sparkles on empty trees, A blanket Covering the fields. A sense of cold Is coming North. The smallest flurries Will dominate, Knocking away Anything In it’s wide path. The cold Has reached The north. Lillian Ostrander 21


By Maris Hammerman

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By India Cora

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The Season Girls Who can see the season girls As our globe they spin and twirl? I can see the season girls As their gossamer gowns they twirl. And for those of you who know not how, I shall describe them for you now. Those who cannot see these girls Cower and shiver when Winter stirs And rears her icy head up high To coat the world in snow and ice. But I know That this is not so. Winter comes in leaps and bounds, Scattering snow upon the ground. Her icy breath forms winter frost. Her sugar-white hair glitters when tossed— And where it trails, icicles are made. And in her embrace, our world remains. Her touch makes the ground harder than rock, And to sink your teeth in snow is such a shock! While Winter may walk and while she may dance, Sleigh bells ring and reindeer prance.

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The Birth of New Life, Lady Spring! High she flies on shining wings, In her gown of pale, soft green, Artfully arranged by her bluebird team. Down she lets her golden hair fall, (Rapunzel’s in comparison is small) The color of gold, as soft as feather. And slowly, but surely, she brightens the weather. As her golden locks tangle round Winter’s fingers, The icicles drip; cold wind dies away; the snow does not linger. Winter melts away. And now green grass transforms the world— Calves and colts are babied by little girls; Flowers glow like bright pastel paints; Robins and starlings find themselves mates, As through the azure-blue sky bright butterflies twirl. Spring reawakens the sleeping world.


The longer Spring stays, the faster is Summer made! The happiest of all these girls, Across the sky she leaps and twirls. Her ruby-red hair tangles with flowers, Turning roses to cornflowers, petunias to poppies. She is far more fair than Aphrodite, With nut-brown skin and Spring’s blue sky colored eyes. When she smiles, angels sing— and the hearts of mountains turn to mush. And her touch makes the sun burn bright and hot in a blush. Under her care and under her smiles, We swim and play. Away the hours while. Happy days fly away As Summer enjoys her annual stay. Summer loves to prolong her days, But Autumn’s time has come around. Her soft brown hair trails over the treetops, Turning the leaves red and orange and gold. The hot sun cools under her quiet gaze— And during her rule, bonfires are laid, Jack-o-lanterns carved, ghost-in-the-graveyard is played. Bears curl up for a long winter’s nap, squirrels gather nuts, Chipmunks and rabbits make little dens and huts. Autumn pleases us and shortens the days, Before the snow comes and we race outside to play. Who can see the season girls As our globe they spin and twirl? I can see the season girls As their gossamer gowns they twirl. And for those of you who know not how, I shall describe them for you now. -Anonymous

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By Sophie Ruttenberg

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I Exclude Gertrude Hi, my name is Olga, and here are some things you should know about me. I live with my parents and my sister. I love chocolate, reading and running. I hate shopping, lemonade, and my sister, Gertrude. Gertrude can be so annoying. She slams doors and punches and screams. She’s only one year younger than me, so she can’t be the cute little sister in books. She steals stuffed animals from my collection, she is a couch potato who hogs the computer and watches stupid cartoons, and she takes up the only good spot on the couch. I’m kind of jealous of her, because she has one best friend— something I’ve been trying to do for years. Her best friend, Ursula, comes to our house so often that my mom bought a blow-up mattress and wrote “Ursula” on it. Not only does Gertrude have one best friend, but she doesn’t have any enemies. At school she either plays with everyone or goes down her list of people that want to play with her. There are a few good things about Gertrude— She’s always there to watch T.V. with. We play a lot of board games together, too. Gertrude and I are always making up fun games, like “evil scientist.” I guess having her around isn’t so bad. Our mom says that when we are older, all we may have is each other. Mom also says we should at least try to be nice to each other. We usually ignore her. I think I can live without Gertrude— but she is my sister, and she’s not going anywhere. I will always think of Gertrude as my best friend. P.S. Gertrude, if you read this, I’m very sorry you read it; and I want my stuffed penguin back. By Sloane Hammerman

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War Freedom, peace, equality— those were the things I stood for. Yet somehow I was forced into a battle that was not my own, the Vietnam War. I wondered if this was going to be my final resting place here on the ground. As I lift my head up slightly I see bodies lying all around me, dead. Have I made my father proud now? Dying here on this battlefield? I didn’t go down fighting. I was trying not to fight. Taking another man’s life— not an option. All men are created equal. I could have stayed with Hope and lived a happy life with her. Oh, Hope and our baby Joy. A daughter who will grow up without a father because of this purposeless war. I could have burned my draft card. Why didn’t I burn my draft card? I look down at my uniform. My jacket, pants, socks, and bloodied boots. I didn’t recognize myself; I was one of them. As I see the sun going down, I think of the days of my past— laughing with my friends, running around the park, my mother’s warm smile— all gone. The sun has set. By Dylan Hoffman

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By Brennan McCray

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A Note to the Reader: I was inspired to write this fictional piece after reading “The Wolf-Child,” a short story written and illustrated by Dennis Nolan.

Bubba’s Story A long time ago, about fifty-six years ago, there was a young and noble boy named Bubba. Bubba was fearless— he was like Hercules but better. His father was the meanest man in town, and no one talked to him. But Bubba’s mom was the one everyone looked up to; she was smart and beautiful. But she was also scared and worried. She was worried about Bubba fighting all the people that trespassed, but she was more scared about Bubba trespassing on our friend’s land just to steal food. “Mom, they chose me to steal food. I have no choice. I must,” Bubba said. “They have the strongest fighters. You will never make it.” “I’ll bring Dad. We’ll be back,” Bubba said. Bubba’s mom ran to her room and prayed and prayed that he would be okay. She went into Bubba’s room later, and she did not see Bubba—only a note. She picked it up, read it, and it said: Dear Mom, It was time that I go. I took Dad with me. Do not be scared; just know I am fine, and I will be back. Love, Bubba

Bubba’s mom cried and cried for two days, and they weren’t back at all. Three more days went by, and they were not back. She cried more. It had been a week and she couldn’t stand it. She had to know if they’re alive. She assumed that they’re dead, so she walked to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and—right when she picked it up, Bubba came in with a sack of food but with no dad. Bubba said, “On the way, Dad couldn’t take it. He was so hungry he starved.” Bubba’s mom didn’t talk to Bubba for days. Bubba didn’t know what to do. What he thought of was to say he was sorry. So Bubba went to his mom’s room, and he saw his mom, dead, on the floor with a knife in her hand. Bubba never said a thing to anyone, and he lived his life quite proud that he saved the town. By ShelLynn Beasley 30


Clockwise from top left: Hannah Preston, Maris Hammerman, Grace Rundelli, Hannah Wakefield, Julia Warner-Corcoran, and (center) Olivia Shao

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Isabel Friedman


Laurel Loop 2010